[Oraniel]
Oros glowed softly in the evening light as Oraniel made his way home, wings folded tight against his back so he would not brush the crowds. The marble streets gleamed as if they had been washed moments earlier. The fountains shimmered with pale luminescence. Every tower, every column, every arch of the city radiated calm perfection.
Yet the quiet still felt strange.
People moved normally. Voices drifted through the air in steady conversations. Nothing outwardly wrong. But Oraniel sensed a tension beneath it all, like a song played with one string out of tune. Angels whispered a little too softly. Their eyes lingered on one another a moment too long. Even the breeze seemed to hesitate before moving again.
He tried to ignore the feeling as he approached his apartment building. A line of white stone columns framed the entrance, carved with sigils of protection and harmony. He stepped inside, expecting the familiar silence of his small home.
Instead, he halted immediately.
Someone was here.
The air carried a sharp, clean scent. It reminded him of cold starlight, if such a thing could have a smell.
He walked deeper, passing the narrow kitchen and into the living space.
Two angels stood inside.
The first was impossible to overlook. He towered near the window, wings folded neatly behind him. They shone like polished platinum, each feather flawless and reflecting faint light as if lit from within. His eyes were silver dawn. His expression calm, but not gentle. His presence felt like a force that could quiet a storm simply by standing still.
An angel so prime, pristine. Oraniel had never seen anything close to this in Oros.
The second angel stood near the wall, wringing his hands. An acolyte from the training hall. Someone Oraniel knew in passing. Bright, enthusiastic, often late to lessons.
Now he looked frozen. Nervous. His eyes flicked between Oraniel and the other angel with thinly veiled fear.
Oraniel's voice caught for a moment. "Ael... what are you doing in my home?"
The acolyte opened his mouth, but the other angel spoke first.
His voice was clear. Not loud. But every word felt heavy, as if the meaning pressed down on the room itself.
"You will descend soon. You will be uncovered. Do not fear what you see. Listen to the visions that follow."
Oraniel stepped back, wings tightening.
The angel's gaze softened slightly. The softness felt vast and distant, like light seen from far above. "Your path returns to you. Walk it without hesitation. You will become the salvation of those who wait."
Before Oraniel could respond, the angel's wings lifted. Light folded around him like a cloak, growing brighter until the figure dissolved completely. There was no shimmer, no breeze, no sound. He simply vanished.
Silence settled over the room.
The acolyte trembled. Something flickered across his eyes, a shimmer of energy that made Oraniel's feathers rise.
"Ael," Oraniel whispered. "What was that? Who was he?"
The acolyte blinked slowly. When he spoke, the voice was not his own.
"Do not trust them."
Oraniel's heart stuttered. "What?!"
The acolyte's posture straightened. His expression emptied, replaced with something ancient and cold. Something that looked at Oraniel as if peering through him into distant worlds.
"When you wake," the voice said, "you will fear the truth. Do not run from it. Seek the other angels. They will know you, even if you do not know yourself. They will tell you everything"
"Ael, stop. What are you talking about?"
A faint smile formed. It did not belong on the acolyte's face. It did not belong in this place.
"Believe them if you wish. But remember this, you are not theirs to shape."
The light around him flickered. The acolyte's body fractured into particles of silver, scattering like dust caught in a beam of sun. Then he was gone.
Oraniel stood alone.
The apartment was silent again. The columns, the polished floor, the neatly stacked shelves all sat in perfect order, exactly as they had before. As if no one had been there at all.
His breath trembled as he pressed a hand against his chest.
Two angels had appeared. Two warnings and a message that clawed at something deep inside him, something he had never been aware of.
Oraniel sank onto the nearest chair, wings drooping. In that instant he became just as unsettled as all those around him.