[Oraniel]
Oraniel paced his apartment long after the two angels vanished. His wings twitched with restless tremors. The walls felt too close, the silence too sharp. He could not stay here. Not after what he saw. Not after the way the acolyte had spoken with a voice that did not belong to him.
Even if the strange voice had borrowed him, Ael himself might remember something. Might understand something. He might at least confirm that Oraniel was not imagining the entire encounter.
He stepped out onto the balcony and launched into the air.
Oros glowed with its usual serene brilliance below him. The streets radiated from the central square like white stone rivers. Temples of pale marble rose with archways carved in swirling patterns. Fountains sprayed thin veils of starlight that shimmered as he passed above them. Towers of glasslike crystal caught the sun and refracted it in warm pale hues.
Yet Oraniel could not shake the sense that something underneath that perfection trembled.
He angled toward the training district, gliding over curved rooftops and columns shaped like angelic figures reaching upward. The Academy domes passed under him, each one glowing faintly with internal runes.
He landed outside Ael's residence and hurried inside without knocking.
"Ael?"
His voice echoed softly.
He was on the floor, slumped against the wall near his sleeping area. His usually groomed wings drooped in a lifeless curtain across the tiles. His bright sigils dimmed in wanning manner.
"Ael!" Oraniel dropped to his knees and lifted him slightly. "Wake up. Please."
His eyes were partially open, but unfocused. No recognition. No awareness. A faint breath, nothing more.
Oraniel's heart pounded. He stood and ran outside.
"Someone!" he called. "I need help!"
Two angels across the courtyard turned to look at him.
He waved frantically. "My friend collapsed! I need assistance!"
They only stared at him.
Not confusion or interest, just silent staring.
Oraniel took a step forward. The two angels stepped slightly closer too, but their expressions did not change. Three more walked onto the street, turning their eyes toward him with the same blank intensity.
He felt a cold tremor move up his spine.
"Are..? What's Wrong?"
More angels paused in their tracks. All of them turned their eyes toward him.
No response or motion, just an intense stare.
Oraniel opened his wings and shot into the air, heart hammering. He needed officials, instructors, anyone higher-ranked. Someone had to see what was happening. Something was going on and someone had to explain why the entire city was acting like carved statues.
The world flickered.
Just a shimmer, barely visible, but he saw it. Like the color of the buildings dulled for a heartbeat, then returned.
A second flicker followed. This one weaker, but unmistakable.
Oros was dimming.
He hovered in place, breath shallow. The rooftops below seemed... less sharp. His vision strained to catch details that had always been clear. The carved murals on the academy dome blurred for a moment, like wet paint.
Then a small section of the outer ring of towers flickered in and out of existence.
He sucked in a breath.
"What is happening…"
He turned sharply back toward his apartment. He needed to leave the skies and think. He needed a moment to breathe. But when he reached the avenue near his home, he stopped dead.
Part of the street ahead was gone.
As if someone cut a smooth chunk out of the city and replaced it with… nothing. A soft, humming emptiness of pale blue. The same color as the sky. Except it was on the ground.
Oraniel stumbled back, wings flaring, platinum eyes panicked.
And the empty patch grew. Only a few inches, but he saw it. The edges dissolving. The pavement softening and melting into the void like sugar under water.
A surge of terror shot through him.
He launched himself back into the sky, climbing fast. At this height, he could see the horizon.
And the horizon was wrong.
The outer districts glowed faintly, then flickered. Rows of statues blinked out, returned, then dissolved halfway. Columns thinned like smoke. Entire gardens vanished, leaving smooth patches of that eerie pale-blue nothingness.
Below, angels walked through the dissolving city without noticing anything at all as if none of it were real.
Oraniel's breath came out in sharp gasps. He tried to steady his hands, but they shook uncontrollably.
The world was unraveling.
And he was the only one who saw it.