The world returned slowly—like sound rising through deep water.
Riven blinked against the fading gold light, lungs burning as he dragged in a painful breath. Dust floated through the air. The rooftop was half-destroyed, charred black and glowing faintly where the golden shockwave had struck.
But none of that mattered.
Azael lay motionless in his arms.
"Azael…"
Riven's voice cracked.
The chains of blood magic still glowed, etched into Azael's skin like burning red veins. His breathing was shallow—too shallow—and his wings, usually strong and ethereal, flickered weakly like they were losing form.
Riven's hands shook as he held him.
"Azael, please—look at me."
For a terrifying moment, there was nothing.
Then Azael's fingers twitched, brushing lightly against Riven's wrist.
He opened his eyes just barely—faint gold, dimmer than Riven had ever seen.
"Still… here," Azael murmured, voice rough with pain. "Not… leaving."
A wave of emotion hit Riven so hard he couldn't speak. Anger. Fear. Relief. All tangled inside him, twisting until his chest felt like it might break apart.
"You took the binding curse for me," Riven whispered. "You weren't supposed to—"
A weak smile ghosted over Azael's lips.
"You're… my responsibility."
Riven's heart stuttered painfully.
"Azael… That's not why you did it."
Azael didn't answer—but the silence was enough.
Before Riven could say anything else, a harsh, broken hiss echoed across the rooftop. One of the Council members dragged itself out of the rubble, cloak shredded, bone sigil cracked halfway through.
Its voice was warped, furious:
"Guardian… you should not have intervened. The curse was meant for him."
Azael's eyes sharpened slightly.
"I know."
Riven instinctively tightened his hold on Azael.
"Don't move. You're injured."
Azael exhaled softly. "I'm aware."
The Council figure raised a trembling hand.
"Interfering with the Contract of Blood… has a price. You cannot save him now. The curse is already inside you—feeding on your essence."
Riven's breath hitched.
"What?"
Azael's body tensed faintly in his arms—but he said nothing.
The figure continued, voice dripping with venom:
"Guardian, you have traded your fate for his. The Eternal One will awaken soon. But you… will fade."
Riven felt the ground tilt beneath him.
"No."
He grabbed Azael's shoulders. "Tell me that's not true."
Azael closed his eyes for a moment, breath shuddering.
"It's… complicated."
Riven's voice broke.
"You're dying because of me?"
Azael's eyes opened again—soft but steely.
"No. I made a choice."
His voice was low, strained but unwavering.
"And I would make it again."
Riven's chest tightened so painfully he could barely inhale.
The Council figure lifted its cracked sigil again, preparing another strike.
Riven stood.
He didn't think.
He didn't plan.
He moved.
A rush of golden energy exploded from his body—raw, instinctive, protective. Riven's aura flared so violently the concrete beneath him split.
The Council figure recoiled.
"What—? His seal should not be breaking this fast—"
Riven's voice was unrecognizable.
Low. Resonant. Filled with something ancient.
"You tried to take what's mine."
The air vibrated.
Even Azael looked up at him with shock.
Riven raised his hand, palm glowing with molten gold.
The Council figure screamed as the golden power surged toward it, ripping through its form like fire through shadows. It disintegrated in a burst of dust and red lightning.
Silence rushed in.
Riven felt the power drain slowly, leaving him dizzy, trembling. He dropped to his knees beside Azael again, breath ragged.
Azael studied him through half-lidded eyes, expression unreadable.
"Your awakening is accelerating," he whispered. "Faster than I anticipated."
"That doesn't matter right now." Riven cupped Azael's face gently. "Where do I take you? What do I do? How do I undo the curse?"
Azael coughed softly—golden blood staining his lip.
Riven froze.
"Azael—"
"Listen." Azael grasped Riven's wrist with surprising strength. "There is… one way."
Riven leaned closer, desperate.
Azael's gaze darkened—serious, ancient, and unbearably gentle.
"There is a place where your past self stored his forbidden power. A sanctuary only the Eternal One can enter."
Riven's pulse quickened.
"My… past life?"
Azael nodded weakly.
"If you reach it… you can reclaim the fragment of your original essence. With that, you may be able to break the curse binding me."
Riven's voice was barely a breath.
"Where is it?"
Azael hesitated.
"It is hidden beneath the city. But it will not open unless you acknowledge what you are."
Riven swallowed hard.
"And what am I?"
Azael stared at him, eyes burning faintly with devotion and doom.
"The Eternal One," he whispered,
"and the only being I have ever sworn myself to."
Riven's heart crashed against his ribs.
His breath broke.
Azael's hand fell weakly from his wrist.
And in that moment—terrified, furious, and aching—Riven made a silent vow:
He would not lose Azael.
Not to fate.
Not to curses.
Not to the past.
He would tear the world apart before he let that happen.