The sun hid behind black clouds as the floor shaved under the crusaders' boots. Arkaaniel, the false god of Solarius, marched ahead of his horde, floating a few meters above the devastated land as a heavenly entity. In his angelic face, features of madness mingled with fanatical glory. Golden tunics rippled around them as flames. His open incandescent wings announced not a Savior, but a final judgment. 

In front of him, the kingdom of Gladius fell. The Spartan troops, with their heavy shields and splasted spears on earth, could nothing against the advancement of blind faith. Enchanted Crusaders, Wizards of Fire, Spiritual Beasts invoked from the bowels of the Solarius Temple. Screams. Ashes. The ground red with blood and embers. 

In the sky, Arkaaniel looked up. And then the memories descended upon him as veils of a forgotten past. 

There are ages behind ... 

He flew between worlds, between dimensions, between the Creator's whispers and the music of the stars. It was a pure heavenly. A protector. 

Sekhmet was flying by his side - not as a weapon, but as a woman, with long hair like moving lava. A solar goddess, with eyes like dancing embers. Their romance burned like the sun itself. They loved each other between battles, between judgments and feasts of the gods. 

Loriel, the goddess of the moon and guardian of the elves, accompanied them in missions. And another, one heavenly with red eyes and identical features to those of axiel, completed the inseparable quartet. They laughed together, defended worlds, protected people, and inspired legends in each place they played. 

Then came the rebellion. 

First, against Lucifer, who had already been expelled by the oldest. Then a new one - for freedom, for power, for pride. They wanted to come down to the world and live like gods. Create miracles. Impose justice. But that became domination. 

And there was a traitor. 

The one with an Axiel's face, but he did not accept to master mortals. He tried to prevent the group. Tried to alert Loriel. And so it was destroyed by Arkaaniel and the others, Sekhmet crying beside him while the world burned in protest to that decision. 

Loriel never forgiven them. 

The Creator cursed them: Sekhmet was imprisoned in a solar sword form. Arkaaniel was left in the Temple of Solarius, asleep as a golden statue that received prayers from ignorant priests. Faith fed him. Madness consumed it. 

In the present ... 

Sekhmet, now trapped as a black blade, forgotten on the altar of the Golden Temple, fired briefly. A sleeping but alive consciousness. Remembered the touch of Arkaaniel. From his laughter in destroying his former heavenly friend. 

And cried. 

She remembered the struggle between Malak and Axiel - respect and brute force. He remembered the moment they both came together to destroy the vampire witch, fighting like siblings, even without knowing what united them. Sekhmet felt something break inside. 

"Forgiveness, Loriel ..." he whispered with his trapped soul. 

The invisible tears ran down as his blade throbbing discreetly on the solar stone altar. 

Arkaaniel raised his hand in the air. 

In the sky of the gladia kingdom, a flaming sphere began to rotate. The heat burned to the bones. Children cried. Old people prayed. Warriors howled in agony. 

"It's the end," said a soldier, kneeling, the helmet on his feet. 

"May the gods take us," said another, hugging his wounded brother. 

And Arkaaniel ... laughed like a madman. 

In the elfen kingdom ... Aetherion, Capital.

The climate was another. The sacred trees trembled with the approaching war weight. 

Aether, dressed in a living silver -silver armor, walked firmly between his troops. The elves warriors set up giant deer and beasts of the forest, and the wizards already traced protective circles. Aranan accompanied her on a horse. The fate was Asham-Hadar, an Arab kingdom near the border, which would be the next target of Arkaaniel. 

"We won't let another kingdom fall," said Aether. - We will fight for everyone. 

Beside them, Aurelia - her daughter cutting the golden, leaving them shorter - and Nivea, even bandaged, wore Solarius's armor with dignity and fury. The real lineage was standing. 

In an inner garden of the castle, Axiel, Malak and Elena gathered with Loriel. 

"Solarius's temple will be invaded," Axiel said. - Sekhmet is there. And I will free it. 

"Sounds like a good suicide mission," Loriel commented, crossing his arms with his typical mocking smile. 

- Is this a compliment? Dumbled Elena. 

Loriel turned his fingers, drawing symbols in the air. Magic circles of silver light began to emerge around them, illuminating the stone floor with arcane shine. 

- Two destinations. Two fronts. A single chance. Choose well who goes where ... because the return ticket is with a scheduled time - said Loriel, laughing. - I'm an efficient taxi driver, but I don't do miracle. 

Malak smiled, adjusting his sword. 

- We created our own miracle. 

Axiel squeezed his fists. His red eyes burned. 

And the world ... trembled with the approach of the final war. 

...