Empire Solarius - Solar Capital. 

The central altar of the Golden Cathedral, the most sacred temple of the Church of the Sun God, burned in prayers. 

Crusaders, monks, preachers, and politicians whispered on the failed meeting with the elves. About the "demonic presence" on the continent. About the emergence of pagan cults in the villages. 

And standing, between golden columns and flaming stained glass, was Malak UG, the paladin. His shoulders still carried the scars of the last clash. His sacred sword Sekhmet remained packed - pulsating, restless. 

A silence fell when he crossed the hall. 

The central statue of the sun god - five meters high, crowned with gold and empty eyes - seemed to observe it. 

Suddenly Sekhmet resonated, like muffled thunder. 

- What was that? asked one of the priests. 

The sword trembled. 

Malak held her fist firmly. But the blade seemed ... wanting to escape. 

- Sekhmet, what are you feeling? 

The statue stirred. He started shaking alone. A fissure appeared in the golden chest of the divine image. A black radius shone inside. Lights emerged from cracks. 

And then ... the statue exploded and it emerged. 

At the top of the altar, like a veil unfolding, Arkaaniel descended. He wore white, but his shadow was dark. The eyes, silver without reflection. The hands, open as a martyr. 

"Sekhmet ..." he said, looking at the sword. - Do you still love me? 

Sekhmet exploded from Malak's hands and attacked Arkaaniel, trimmed in the air by his power. 

Everyone shouted. 

The Holy Primate raised, furiously. 

- Tractor! You attacked the throne of the Most High! 

- I am not...! Malak tried to explain, but no one listened. Arrows were erected. Swords ballen. 

- Capture the apostate! - shouted the primacy. 

Malak jumped out of the balcony. Behind him, his Pupil Aranna - young, short black hair, light armor and determined look - followed him, struggling to overthrow the bars. 

But arrows followed them. Lots of. 

Malak turned to recover Sekhmet ... but hesitated. 

Aranna was injured. An arrow crossed his shoulder. Blood was gushing. 

The paladin made the decision: left the sword. He took the pupil in his arms. Fled. 

They set up a black horse and fired around the city on fire, with the church roaring behind them. 

Mystical Forest, Aetherion Kingdom - Three days later. 

Axiel and Loriel walked between crystal clear trees. He kicked stones, bored. She made drawings in the air with beams of light. 

- You're strange. - He said. 

- Ah, nothing. But perhaps the whole continent is about to dive into a blood bath, all the fault of a crazy heavenly who knows you for some reason you pretend not to know. 

- Ah. That. 

Suddenly an old elf gypsy, with hair like storm clouds, dressed in skins and bone necklaces, came out of nowhere. 

"You." He pointed to Axiel. - You have traces of the sky. 

Axiel raised his eyebrow. 

- Is this compliment? 

- This is warning. she said, with hoarse voice. - You carry ... the sky that fell. 

Loriel widened his eyes. For the first time ... scared. 

"Mrs. Nairë ..." the fairy murmured. 

- Hello, witch of fragile wings. - Said the Gypsy elf, now looking straight at Loriel. "Still getting into confusion?" 

Axiel, confused, walked away. 

After he left, Loriel and Nairë talked alone. As old known. 

- Arkaaniel has started. And no one is doing anything. - Said the Gypsy. 

- He's not ready. - Replied Loriel, seriously. - Not yet. But if the paladin survives ... 

- He needs help. 

Loriel nodded. The golden shine returned to his eyes. And the cynical humor ... disappeared. 

Scarlet meadow, border of the capital of the Solarius Empire. 

Malak, with his body covered with wounds, galloping weak. Aranna, passed out in front of him, bleeding. The crusades surrounded them. 

- In the name of the sun god, income! 

But then a gild of golden light cut the air. 

Loriel appeared in the air, flying in teenage size. Open arms. Mystical dress dancing with the wind. 

- Time to intervene. - murmured. 

She touched the floor. 

Axiel then appeared slowly, with an bored look. 

- If I knew it was to play with hero ... 

Malak saw him. The eyes widened. 

- You! 

- Relax, crossed. I didn't come to kill you today. 

- Bad time to duel! Shouted Aranna, even wounded. 

The crusades approached. 

Axiel raised his hand, and from the palm sprouted a black blade of light. 

With a cut on the floor, he opened a fissure between them and the enemies. 

- I said to relax. 

Arrows came. Malak fell from the horse, with three stuffed on his back. 

Loriel grabbed his body while teleporting all away. 

Aetherion Kingdom - Ellifices Lands - Crystal Palace. 

A flash filled the sacred garden. 

Aether and Elena, surprises, ran to the circle of invocation. 

There they were: Axiel, with a bad mood. Loriel, panting. Aranna, bleeding. Malak, almost dead. 

Elena ran to help. Aether ordered the real healers to come. The servants appeared with sacred herbs and cloths. 

Axiel looked at Loriel, while the elves took care of the paladin. 

- Since when do you know high -scale teleport? 

- Fairy secrets. she said, recovering the sarcastic tone. "Do you think I'm just a beautiful little light?" 

"I think you're a locker locked with four locks and no key." 

Loriel laughed. But his eyes ... they were still dark. 

Golden Cathedral - Underground 

The Sekhmet sword floated amid magic currents, sealed in a containment field made with blood of clerics. 

And then ... she woke up. 

The spirit of the sword took shape: a woman with flamenco red hair, golden skin, eyes of war. 

Arkaaniel appeared before her. 

- Still resist, old daughter of light? 

- And you still pretend to be God? 

- I am more real than any prayer. 

"You are just a rebellious son ... thrown out of heaven for vanity." 

"And you, a weapon that falls in love with paladins that don't deserve it." He smiled. "Let's see how long you resist ... Before you bow to me." 

She shouted. The seal trembled. But she was still free, in spirit. 

- You will never have my blade. 

Arkaaniel turned. 

- I don't need her. I just need ... of an army of blind faith. 

And he left, leaving the seal pulsing like a heart about to explode.