The skies over Whitmoor split at dawn.
Not with thunder or flame—but with silence.
A stillness so profound that even the birds fell quiet.
Elias stood atop the ruined chapel tower, his cloak swaying in the breeze. The echoes of last night's voice still whispered in his skull.
> "You are not alone…"
He hadn't slept. His skin felt too tight. His blood too hot. The Devil's System had started speaking—and listening. Every thought, every flicker of rage or sorrow, it mirrored back at him.
But now, something new crept into his awareness.
A presence that wasn't Infernal.
Celestial.
He turned.
There she stood—on the rooftop across from him.
Dressed in ivory robes that shimmered in the morning haze, her silver-blonde hair framed a pale face that looked both young and ageless. She held no weapons, but the air around her buzzed with barely restrained power.
Elias didn't need to ask who—or what—she was.
She answered anyway.
> "I am Seraphiel. Bearer of the Heavenlight System."
