Elara's POV
We hit solid ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
For a moment, I just lie there, gasping, trying to figure out if anything is broken. My whole body aches. Through the life-binding spell, I feel Azrael's pain mixing with mine, making it impossible to tell where I end and he begins.
"Are you hurt?" His voice comes from beside me, rough with pain.
"I don't know." I push myself up slowly. "Are you?"
"I don't know either."
We're in a circular room made of black stone. No doors. No windows. Just smooth walls that seem to absorb light, making the space feel smaller than it is. Above us, the ceiling is open to a swirling purple sky where impossible shapes drift past.
Morgana appears in the center of the room, her shadow-dress flowing around her like it's alive.
"Welcome to the Trial Chamber," she says with that too-sharp smile. "This is where I test everyone who enters my domain uninvited."
"We didn't enter uninvited," Azrael growls, forcing himself to stand. "We were running for our lives."
"Details, darling." Morgana waves a dismissive hand. "The Void Between has rules. You want my protection from Heaven's hunters? You want sanctuary in my realm? Then you prove you're worthy of it."
"And if we refuse?" I ask.
"Then I throw you back to the hunters myself." She examines her nails, which are painted the color of starlight. "Uriel is quite persistent. He's already at the border of my domain, demanding I hand you over. It's really quite tedious."
My heart sinks. "He followed us."
"Of course he did. You're his precious student who betrayed everything he taught you." Morgana looks at Azrael. "He wants to save you. Bring you home. Execute you properly, with dignity and honor."
"How kind of him," Azrael says bitterly.
"Isn't it?" Morgana claps her hands together. "But here's the fun part. If you pass my test, I'll tell Uriel I never saw you. I'll hide you in my realm where even Heaven can't find you. I'll give you time to heal, to plan, to become strong enough to fight back."
"What's the test?" I demand.
Morgana's smile grows wider. "You have to survive each other."
Before I can ask what that means, the room changes.
The walls ripple like water, then transform into mirrors. Hundreds of them, surrounding us completely, reflecting our images back and forth into infinity.
Except the reflections aren't quite right.
In one mirror, I see myself in pure white robes with glowing wings. My younger self, back when I was still in Heaven, still celebrated, still whole.
In another mirror, I see myself corrupted completely—black wings, red eyes, dark magic crackling around my hands like lightning.
"What is this?" I whisper.
"Your fears made real," Morgana's voice echoes around us. "Your doubts. Your darkest possibilities. The test is simple: face what you're most afraid of becoming. Face what you've lost. And survive it without breaking."
The mirror with my corrupted self shatters.
The dark version of me steps out, grinning with teeth that are too sharp. "Hello, Elara. Let's see how much of your soul is left, shall we?"
She lunges at me, hands wreathed in black magic.
I barely dodge, rolling across the stone floor. "Azrael!"
But Azrael has his own problems. Three versions of himself have emerged from the mirrors—one in full Seraph armor covered in blood, one with fully demonic features, and one that looks exactly like him but with dead, empty eyes.
"You killed for them," the bloody Seraph says. "Murdered innocents. Followed orders like a good little weapon."
"You're a monster," the demonic version hisses. "Half-breed. Abomination. Neither angel nor demon. Belonging nowhere."
"You'll become this," the dead-eyed version whispers. "Empty. Broken. Alone forever."
The mirrors keep shattering. More versions of ourselves pour out—each one representing a different fear, a different failure, a different possible future.
I fight my corrupted self, our magic clashing in bursts of gold and black light. She's stronger than me, faster, because she's everything I'm afraid of becoming. Every time I use blood magic, I get closer to turning into her.
"You can't win," she laughs. "I'm already inside you. Every forbidden spell brings you closer to me."
She's right. I feel it—the corruption spreading through my soul like poison. The more I fight, the more I use my power, the more I become her.
Through our bond, I feel Azrael struggling too. The curse is draining him. His demonic half is fighting his angelic half. He's being torn apart from the inside.
We're losing.
"Elara!" Azrael shouts. "The bond! Use the bond!"
The life-binding spell. We're connected now. His life is mine, mine is his.
Which means his strength is mine too.
I reach through the bond, pulling on Azrael's power. Shadows flow into me, mixing with my corrupted light. At the same time, I push my healing magic toward him, trying to stabilize the war happening inside his body.
The moment our powers truly mix, something incredible happens.
The gold and black light from my hands merges with the shadows from Azrael's demonic heritage and the divine energy from his angelic blood. It creates something new—something that's never existed before.
Silver light. Pure and powerful and balanced.
The corrupted version of me screams as the silver light touches her. She disintegrates, turning into smoke.
All around us, the mirror versions start crumbling. They can't exist in the presence of this new power. This perfect balance between light and dark, divine and demonic, corruption and purity.
The mirrors shatter. The room returns to normal.
Morgana slow-claps, actually looking impressed. "Well. That was unexpected."
I collapse against Azrael, both of us shaking with exhaustion. "Did we pass?"
"Oh, you did more than pass, darling." Morgana circles us, studying the silver light still flickering between our joined hands. "You created something new. A power that shouldn't exist. The prophecy was right about you two."
"What prophecy?" Azrael asks.
Morgana's expression turns serious. "The one that says a fallen healer and a broken warrior will either save all three realms or destroy them completely. The one that Raphael is terrified of. The one that's why he cursed you, why he framed you, why he wants you both dead."
My blood runs cold. "We're part of a prophecy?"
"Not just any prophecy. The end-of-the-world, reshape-reality, change-everything kind." Morgana grins. "Congratulations. You're cosmic accidents waiting to happen."
Before I can process this, Morgana snaps her fingers. A viewing portal opens, showing the border of her domain.
Commander Uriel stands there with a full battalion of angels. Their weapons are drawn. Their faces are grim.
And standing beside Uriel, looking pale and shaken, is my sister Lyanna.
"They're not leaving," Morgana says. "Uriel has set up a siege. He's going to wait you out, no matter how long it takes."
"Then we're trapped," I whisper.
"For now." Morgana's eyes gleam. "But I can teach you to use that pretty new power you just created. I can help you get strong enough to break the siege. Strong enough to fight Raphael himself."
"Why would you help us?" Azrael asks suspiciously.
"Because chaos is good for business," Morgana says cheerfully. "And because Raphael once tried to harvest my power too. I'd very much like to see him fail."
She extends her hand. "So what do you say? Ready to learn how to reshape reality?"
I look at Azrael. Through our bond, I feel his uncertainty, his fear, but also his determination. We're in this together now, whether we like it or not.
"If we do this," I say slowly, "if we learn to use this power—what happens to us?"
Morgana's smile is mysterious. "You become exactly what Heaven fears most."
Azrael squeezes my hand. "What's that?"
"Free."