The silence that followed the explosion of the doors was deafening. The cold presence in the room was like a weight on Mary's chest, suffocating her as she tried to make sense of the events unfolding before her. The dark figure that had entered the chamber moved with an eerie fluidity, as though it was one with the shadows themselves. It was tall, draped in a cloak that shimmered like black smoke, and the eyes—those piercing, glowing eyes—seemed to burn into Mary's very soul.
Mary's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her saber, the weight of the blade grounding her in the moment. The air around her crackled with a dangerous energy, like a storm was brewing just beneath the surface. She could feel it—a power, ancient and incomprehensible, emanating from this creature before her.
Lela, standing at her side, also tightened her grip on her spear, but there was something different about her stance now—something not just defensive, but almost... expectant. Loosie, too, seemed unnerved, her usual playful demeanor gone, replaced by a taut focus. Even the figure from the Council, the one who had led them here, was now visibly shaken.
The figure's voice broke through the tense silence, low and guttural, a voice that seemed to echo from the very depths of darkness. "You are too late."
Mary's heart skipped a beat. This was no ordinary enemy. This was something ancient, something that had been waiting, watching, perhaps even orchestrating all that had come to pass.
"We've been waiting for you, Mary," the figure continued, its voice like ice creeping into her bones. "The blood of the Archangel runs through your veins. And now, the time has come for you to fulfill your destiny."
Mary's breath caught in her throat. The words echoed through her mind, each one a dagger of dread. The blood of the Archangel? Was this truly why she had been thrust into this nightmare? Had her life, her very existence, been nothing more than a preordained link in a chain that she couldn't escape?
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her breathing, to block out the suffocating weight of this revelation. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice stronger than she felt. "What do you want from me?"
The figure's eyes flashed with an almost imperceptible gleam. "I am the harbinger," it said, its voice now like a whisper of wind through dead leaves. "The one sent to awaken you to the truth. You are the chosen vessel, Mary. The vessel through which the Archangel will rise again. You are the key to ending everything."
Lela stepped forward, her spear held firm, though she didn't attack. "You speak of the Archangel as if it's a god, but we know the truth. You are not some celestial being. You are a demon, a servant of destruction."
The figure tilted its head, an unsettling smile playing at its lips. "A demon? You misunderstand. I am no mere servant. I am the one who was cast out, the one who sought the truth of the Archangel. And now I will awaken it. The time of the Council is over. Your struggle is meaningless."
Mary's mind was reeling, her thoughts a blur. The Council's secrecy, the bloodline she had never known about, the strange events that had always followed her—all of it was falling into place. But why had it come to this? Why her?
"What do you want from me?" she asked again, her voice shaky but determined. "What is it that you think I can do?"
The figure's eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of pity and malice. "You don't know yet, do you? You will." It stepped closer, the darkness surrounding it seeming to pulse with every movement. "You will awaken the Archangel, and in doing so, bring about the end of the realms. Everything you know—everything you love—will cease to exist."
Mary's heart pounded in her chest as the weight of its words settled over her. The end of everything? It sounded impossible, unreal, but with the way the world around her had twisted and turned, she couldn't help but believe it. She could feel the power that had begun to stir within her, the ancient bloodline she could no longer deny.
"I won't do it," she said fiercely, stepping forward, her saber held high. "I will stop you."
The figure's smile grew wider, more predatory. "You think you have a choice, Mary? You think you can fight destiny? You were born to do this. Whether you accept it or not, the Archangel will rise through you. You cannot stop it."
The figure's hand raised, and suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. A blinding flash of light pierced through the air, and a ripple of pure, unadulterated power surged through the space. Mary's body trembled under the intensity of it. She could feel the Archangel stirring within her, an ancient, unstoppable force awakening from its slumber. The bond between them was undeniable now, and it terrified her.
Lela and Loosie stepped forward as well, their weapons drawn, prepared to face whatever came. The figure, however, didn't seem worried. Instead, it watched them all with a calm detachment, like a predator watching its prey.
"You don't understand," the figure said, its voice a cruel whisper. "The Council's lies will die with them. They kept you from the truth because they were afraid. Afraid of what you are. What you will become."
Before anyone could react, the figure extended its hand toward Mary, and a powerful force slammed into her chest, sending her sprawling backward. She gasped for air as the pressure on her chest squeezed the breath from her lungs, but she refused to submit. She struggled to push herself up, determined not to let this being break her.
"We don't have to do this," Mary whispered, her voice hoarse. "There has to be another way."
The figure stepped closer, its voice now a dark, mocking laugh. "You believe there's another way? That the power inside you can be controlled? You were born for this, Mary. And I will see it through."
Mary's eyes narrowed. "I may have been born for this," she said, rising to her feet with all the strength she could muster, "but I'll choose how it ends."
With a cry, she swung her saber at the figure, but it moved with unnatural speed, dodging the strike with ease. Lela and Loosie attacked in tandem, but the figure seemed to be everywhere at once, avoiding their blows with terrifying grace. Mary could feel the power building within her, the Archangel's influence pulling at her, threatening to take over.
"No," she whispered to herself. "Not like this."
Suddenly, she felt it—a surge of warmth deep inside her, as though a flame had ignited in her chest. The Archangel's power, twisted and ancient, began to respond to her will, not the figure's. It was still a struggle—an internal battle between the part of her that feared the power and the part that knew it was the only way to win.
Her saber began to glow with an ethereal light, a glow that seemed to respond to the very power that had been awakened inside her. With a defiant cry, she lunged again, this time with the full force of her newfound strength. The figure seemed caught off guard, its confident smile faltering for just a moment.
The battle had only just begun, and the stakes were higher than Mary had ever imagined. The future of everything, it seemed, rested in her hands.