The ruins beneath Arkanis were far more than Gabriel could have ever anticipated. The moment he stepped into the dormant vault, an ancient power stirred within, pulsing through the walls like the heartbeat of a long-forgotten god. Cracked sigils on the obsidian walls began to glow in shifting hues, their intensity growing—blue, crimson, and finally a searing gold that fractured the very air.
Merlin's voice broke the silence, quiet but filled with knowledge. "This place responds to you, Gabriel. It's not just divine—it's something older, something buried long ago." His eyes scanned the walls, deciphering the ancient script as they moved deeper into the chamber.
Gabriel felt the weight of Merlin's words. As much as the world had shifted in the last days, he had never felt such a raw, untapped force in his blood before. This was more than just the power of Gabriel the Angel; this was something from before the gods themselves.
The trio moved cautiously—Gabriel, Aziel, and Nyra—though there was an unspoken tension between them. Their destinies had been forced together, but Gabriel knew that survival demanded they set aside their differences for now.
At the center of the vault stood a crystalline obelisk suspended in mid-air, floating on the currents of a gravitational rift. It pulsed like a dying star, and etched upon it were names—the First Bearers, ancient beings who had once wielded fragments of divine or elemental essence. As Gabriel stepped forward, his hand reached instinctively toward the crystal.
The instant he touched it, the obelisk shattered into a million shards of radiant energy.
The explosion of light enveloped them, tearing through the ruin. Gabriel's mind was flooded with memories that were not his own—visions of gods warring with angels, the fall of realms, and the creation of the Vaults. At the center of it all was a figure shrouded in white fire and shadow: the First Immortal.
"Who was that?" Nyra asked, dazed by the force of the vision.
Merlin, just as disoriented but no less perceptive, answered grimly, "The one before the gods. A myth that even they tried to erase."
As if answering the revelation, the ruin pulsed again, sending a ripple through the air. A door appeared—circular and rimmed with ancient runes, the language of an age forgotten by even the gods themselves. Beyond it, darkness churned, whispers pulling at Gabriel's senses.
"Something stirs," Aziel said, his tone shifting as he gripped his twin glaives tightly.
They stepped forward.