The Sacred Hall of Ceiala’s Council Building was a marvel of craftsmanship. The towering ceiling stretched impossibly high, crafted from pristine white stone and interwoven with glowing crystal veins. A large skylight window in the center bathed the room in natural light, adding to the hall's serene glow. Massive columns lined the edges, carved with intricate runes of old, their surfaces shimmering softly. The air within the hall was dense with history and power.
In the center of the hall, there was a large, curved table made of shining white stone. The emblems of each tribe and nation within the Realm were proudly etched in front of their respective seats, marking where the leaders of the Realm would sit.
Stormfront and Tempest entered the hall, their footsteps echoing softly as they joined the assembly of the Great Pillars of Meiyr.
Idris A’Valei—The Hydra Avatar; Lucius A’Damos—The Golem Avatar; and Shuri A’Mal—The Griffin Avatar, sat at the large table with their respective Sacryns standing behind them, their gazes alert. Opposite them, the three Sacred Council members of Ceiala—Darius Durnan, Sade Valtari, and Dr. Jyro Zephyri—prepared to begin. The seat for the Phoenix Avatar remained empty, serving as a solemn reminder of the great loss of Kamari’s father.
The hall fell silent as Darius Durnan began to speak. His voice reverberated through the stone walls, carrying a sense of gravity and urgency.
"I want to first thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here tonight. With that said, we must address the increasing threat of the Incursions, which are growing in number and severity. The Realm can no longer keep pace. If we don’t act soon, this chaos will consume us entirely."
His words hung in the air as the Council nodded in unison.
Dr. Jyro leaned forward, his face creased with a mix of deep thought and concern. His long, gray beard brushed against his chest as he spoke.
“My efforts in discovering the Nether Flame have been unfruitful. Typically, for such a drastic increase in Nether Energy, we would be able to detect a clear output—a faint trace at the very least. But there’s been nothing. It’s as though the Nether Flame no longer exists.”
The revelation caused murmurs to ripple through the hall.
Sade Valtari narrowed her eyes, and her voice cut through the quiet as she began.
“What about the Angel of Death? If we could capture him, we may be able to force him to reveal the location of the Flame.”
Before she could finish, Lucius A'Damos, a hulking figure of stature and muscle, interrupted. His voice was low and deep, like the rumble of an earthquake.
“Capturing the demon? Is that really your suggestion? You may spend too much time buried in scrolls to know, but the demon is a force unlike any other. Capturing him is far from a viable option.”
There was a heavy pause, and Dr. Jyro nodded in agreement.
“Lucius is right. Capturing the Angel of Death is nearly impossible. Our best chance lies in finding his hideout—wherever he’s been hiding all these years.”
“And how do you suggest we accomplish that?" Sade asked. "You just said it yourself—you haven’t been able to detect any trace of the Nether Flame. What exactly do we have to go on?”
The hall descended into disorganized chatter, with the weight of the problem pulling the conversation in multiple directions.
Eli then spoke up, half-joking.
"Why not check out Seliak? Wouldn't that be the perfect place for a hideout?"
The room fell into stunned silence, with faces twisted in confusion at the seemingly absurd suggestion.
The Griffin Avatar, Shuri A'Mal, scoffed as her deep amber eyes scanned Eli's body with silent contempt.
“This is no time for jokes, boy. Nothing survives on Seliak. Not even the Angel of Death could withstand the Knull Energy that saturates that wasteland.”
However, Dr. Jyro's expression shifted, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming as a sudden realization crossed his mind.
“Hold on. As absurd as it sounds at first... it’s not entirely out of the question.”
The hall fell silent once again, with everyone's gaze fixed on Dr. Jyro.
"Jermaine can withstand the environment on Seliak, but only for a short time. His near-limitless Enre provides him with some protection. What if the late Zion found a way to neutralize the effects of the Knull? He had collected millions of souls over the last century. It's not impossible that he used them to insulate his hideout from the Knull's effects."
A silence fell as the weight of Dr. Jyro's words sank in. He continued.
“It would also explain why none of my instruments have been able to detect the Nether Flame’s power. The Knull Rift might be acting as a mask, shielding its presence from detection. It’s a brilliant strategy if it’s true.”
Sade Valtari scoffed.
"Neutralize the Knull? That's absurd. Come on, Doctor. Let's not entertain such nonsense."
"Not exactly," Dr. Jyro replied. "I’ve seen it done once before—by Andre Fel’Norae, a remarkable Knull researcher. His attempt was on a smaller scale, but he pulled it off."
Dr. Jyro briefly glanced at Eli at the mention of Andre Fel'Norae. Jermaine clenched his fists, and Nia quietly wrapped an arm around Eli as he avoided Dr. Jyro's gaze, choosing instead to look at the marbled floor tiles.
Sade Valtari's gaze locked onto the skylight as she processed the information.
"If what you're saying is true, that changes everything. We can only hope that your theory holds water."
Byron, who had been listening intently, stepped forward.
“If the hideout is located on Seliak, then that’s where we’ll go. Stormfront will lead the charge.”
Dr. Jyro nodded slowly.
“It’s a risk, but if Zaire is truly hiding there, we can’t afford not to take action.”
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After the Council adjourned and the Sacred Hall emptied, Eli lingered near the edge of the room, trying to blend into the background. He barely noticed Dr. Jyro's approach until the man was standing beside him.
"Eli. I’d like you to consider helping us with this effort."
Eli tensed and instinctively crossed his arms over his chest as if wearing armor.
"I’m not sure that’s a good idea."
"You understand the nature of Knull Energy better than anyone. This knowledge could be the key to ensuring the success of the mission."
Eli's eyes dropped to the floor. Just hearing Dr. Jyro’s voice and the weight of his request tugged at something raw inside him. His grip tightened on his arms as if he were holding himself together.
The silence between them grew heavy. Finally, Eli forced himself to speak, though he continued to avoid Dr. Jyro’s gaze.
"I’ll think about it. No promises, though."
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Nearby, Imani overheard their conversation. Her eyes narrowed in curiosity, but she chose to remain silent.
A few minutes later, as Tempest stepped outside the Council Building, Leon grinned and motioned for Eli and Imani to follow.
"There’s someone I want you to meet."
At the entrance, there was a tall woman, almost as tall as Leon, whose height already towered over Eli's respectable six-foot-two frame. She had a striking presence with caramel skin, sharp yellow eyes, and brown hair with yellow highlights styled into a short, curly mohawk that complemented her confident stance.
"This is my girlfriend, Tanya A’rin. The Griffin Sacryn."
Tanya’s eyes sparkled with warmth as she greeted them.
"I’ve heard a lot about you, Eli. But since you're new to the squad, Imani, I haven’t heard much about you yet."
Eli, in his usual charming way, grinned.
"Well, now I see why Leon’s always racing back to Kabora."
Tanya laughed softly, casting Leon a knowing smile.
"Leon did mention you have a way with words."
However, her expression shifted as she asked.
"Isn’t someone missing? Kamari, right?"
Upon hearing Kamari's name, the group's energy dipped. Leon's smile wavered slightly.
"Yeah, Kamari’s not with us right now. He’s recovering in Ahwahl."
"I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he gets better soon."
She leaned in and kissed Leon on the cheek before excusing herself.
"I need to rejoin the Griffin Avatar. It was great meeting all of you."
As she walked away, Leon's gaze followed her, pride gleaming in his eyes.
Before the conversation could continue, Idris A’Valei—the Hydra Avatar—approached with Demoi A’Rayn—the Hydra Sacryn—close behind. Both men carried their authority effortlessly, though Idris exuded a warm, fatherly energy, while Demoi’s demeanor was far more combative.
"Imani!"
Idris greeted her with a kind smile.
"It’s great to see you again. I'd love to hug you, but I'm aware and respect your boundaries. How's Ceiala and the new squad treating you?"
Imani returned his smile.
"It's good to see you too, Idris. It's been eventful, but I've adjusted."
Demoi gave her a playful nudge.
"I hope you're not letting them soften you up. If you get too comfortable here, I’ll personally come back to toughen you up again."
Imani’s smile widened.
"No need to worry about that."
Idris chuckled.
"Take your time and learn all you can. We’ll keep handling the Eldran Empire until you're ready to join the fight again."
Imani nodded.
Idris and Demoi took their leave, disappearing into the night. As they departed, Leon and Eli rejoined Imani, their lighthearted conversation quickly filling the air once more.
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Meanwhile, in Ahwahl, Kamari woke up suddenly, his chest heaving and sweat rolling down his face. He threw off the sheets, unable to stay still any longer, and quickly got dressed before slipping out into the cool night air.
The path to the lake was a short walk, the forest surrounding it whispering in the breeze. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting pale shadows across the ground as Kamari made his way to the water's edge. His mind was racing with thoughts of his past failures.
When he reached the lake, the calm, mirror-like surface did nothing to soothe him. Instead, it seemed to mock him—its serenity was a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside. Without thinking, Kamari raised his hands and unleashed a powerful blast of yellow flames across the water. The heat cut through the air with a roar. The water hissed where the flames struck, sending steam rising in thick clouds.
"Why can't I do this?!"
You're too weak, Phoenix... Zaire’s words echoed in his mind.
He growled through gritted teeth, and another surge of flames exploded from his hands, the fire burning so hot that the very edges of the lake began to bubble. His arms shook with the effort, but the blue flames he so desperately sought eluded him.
Memories of the Red Massacre, the Phoenix Core slipping away, and the countless lives he couldn’t save played in his mind on a relentless loop. He cursed under his breath, hurling flame after flame into the water as his frustration mounted.
Each blast drained him further until, finally, his energy gave out. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. His hands trembled, scorched with heat, and his body ached with exhaustion. But none of that compared to the hollowness in his chest—the feeling of utter failure that refused to leave.
The sound of soft footsteps broke the silence. Kamari didn’t look up. He didn’t have to.
Malik approached him quietly, holding a small flask of water.
"So, this is where you ran off to."
He handed the flask to Kamari, who took it without a word, his body too tired to protest.
Malik sat down beside him.
"Pushing yourself to the limit like this won’t help, Kamari. Anger and frustration won’t get you there. You need a calm, clear mind—that’s the key."
Kamari drank deeply from the flask, his hands still shaking. He wanted to listen to Malik—he always did. But tonight, the words felt distant, like advice meant for someone stronger—someone less broken.
"I’ve tried to clear my mind, to stop letting this... this failure consume me. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is everything I’ve lost. All I feel is this weight. And now, without the Core…"
His voice broke.
Malik remained silent, allowing the weight of the silence to settle between them for a moment.
"Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and try again."
Kamari clenched his fists as he stared at the waters of the lake. His reflection stared back, distorted in the rippling surface. He tried to follow Malik’s advice, to breathe in the cool night air and still his mind. But all he saw were the faces of those he couldn’t save, and all he felt was Zaire’s cruel grip on his chest—the Phoenix Core slipping away.
His frustration mounted again, and with a harsh exhale, Kamari stood up abruptly.
"It’s not working. Fuck this!"
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving Malik by the lake. His steps were heavy with exhaustion and defeat.
Malik watched him go, his figure swallowed by the quiet night.
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Somewhere in the Realm, a dark rift hung ominously over a small village, its swirling energy casting long, twisted shadows over the cobbled streets below. Infernals of every kind—goblins, orcs, and shadowy beasts—rampaged through the village, their howls blending with the terrified screams of the townspeople. Fires raged in the distance, consuming homes and fields alike, as smoke choked the once-clear sky.
At the heart of the destruction, Zion and Zaire stood tall amid the crumpled bodies of fallen Seraphim warriors, their armor still gleaming faintly under the oppressive light of the Rift. Zion remained calm, his eyes scanning the battlefield with a measured gaze. He moved with deliberate grace, showing neither haste nor cruelty, as he extracted the souls of the few survivors left among the carnage.
One by one, the souls of the villagers rose from their bodies as Zion extended his hand. But rather than tearing them away violently, he whispered, almost like a father comforting his children in their final moments.
"Your lives were not lived in vain."
He rested his hand gently over the chest of a dying woman, her eyes filled with terror.
"Your sacrifice will serve a greater purpose. The pain will pass, and peace will come."
The woman’s body stilled, and her soul drifted up, merging into the swirling energy in the heart of the Rift above. Zion stood, his face solemn, his brow creased not with malice but with the burden of necessity. He moved to the next villager, repeating the quiet, reassuring words. His touch was never harsh—his expression almost mournful.
Zaire watched from nearby, silent as always when his father worked. He had long become accustomed to the calm, calculated way Zion gathered souls, but it still unnerved him how different it was from the ruthlessness they exhibited in battle. His father’s sense of purpose, his belief in their mission, was unwavering—even when Zaire himself had doubts.
With the last of the souls gathered, Zion straightened and surveyed the ruined village.
"We’re done here."
The two of them vanished into shadows, returning to the cold stone walls of their hidden lair. It was dimly lit by the faint green glow of the soul vats lining the chamber, their liquid contents swirling with captured energy. Zion immediately approached the Dakr, its dark pedestal humming with growing power as the stored energy from the souls continued to feed into the massive portal gate at the far end of the room.
"Three days."
His were locked on the numbers flickering across the control panel.
"Just three more days until the portal gate is activated."
But before Zaire could respond, Zion winced sharply, clutching his chest. His breathing became ragged, and the Nether Flame—its small, dark form crackling atop its pedestal—whispered insidiously into his mind. Its voice was like poison, seeping into his thoughts, urging him to embrace its power.
Give in, Zion. You cannot resist me forever.
For a moment, Zion's eyes glazed over, and he staggered backward. The dark tendrils of the Flame's influence crept across his mind, twisting his thoughts and distorting his purpose. And then, without warning, Zion turned on Zaire, his face contorted with rage and anguish.
With a ferocity Zaire had never seen before, Zion lunged at him, shadows coiling around his hands as he struck.
"Father, wait!"
Zaire called out, his voice panicked as he narrowly dodged the first strike. But Zion didn’t listen—his eyes had darkened, consumed by the Nether Flame’s corruption. Zaire barely managed to block the next blow, the force sending him stumbling back.
"Snap out of it!"
His father was slipping away. Zaire could feel the power of the Flame surging through Zion, overwhelming his will, threatening to tear him apart.
In a swift motion, Zaire materialized a Prime Crystal, its white and yellow light glowing with God Energy. He pressed it into Zion’s chest, forcing the crystal’s healing power into his father’s body. The glow enveloped Zion, and for a tense moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the shadows began to recede from Zion’s eyes, and his wild, frenzied breathing calmed.
The crystal pulsed, its light dimming as Zion regained control. He stumbled to his knees, gasping for breath, his hand trembling as it clenched the now-dulled crystal.
Zaire knelt beside him, his heart pounding.
"Are you... Are you alright?"
Zion, his face pale and lined with exhaustion, looked up at his son. His voice was weak.
"I'm sorry. I... I will not lose to its influence again. I swear it. I will fight until my last breath, Zaire... until the day we can finally banish it from this Realm."
Zaire, still shaken, nodded slowly. His father’s words rekindled the fire of his resolve, but the fear remained—a quiet, gnawing terror that perhaps they were running out of time... that perhaps Zion wouldn’t last long enough to see their mission fulfilled.
Zion reached up and placed a hand on Zaire’s shoulder.
"I’ll be alright. We have three days. Three days, and then we’ll be free of this."
Zaire helped his father to his feet. Three days... he could only hope it wouldn't be too late.