The Grand Haven buzzed with a heavy tension, the air humming faintly as twenty seraphs hovered in perfect formation above the center of the grand arena. Their majestic wings radiated a divine brilliance, casting soft but imposing light across the marble coliseum below. At the center of it all, one seraph stood grounded amidst the spectacle, his presence far outweighing the collective aura of his kin.
He was a figure of effortless dominance. Four pairs of vast, feathered wings fanned out behind him, each as graceful as it was intimidating. His long black hair cascaded down his back, and his slender frame carried a serene yet ominous strength. His piercing gaze, calm yet sharp, remained fixed on the seventh statue in the Grand Haven—a statue that had not been there before.
"That... was not here before," the mighty seraph muttered, his voice low but audible to all around him.
