The wind howled around Vem Arson as he stood at the edge of the Abyssal Forest, the last row of trees standing sentinel before the scorched wasteland that stretched toward Mount Emeron.
His silver wings trembled slightly in the gusts, and his eyes narrowed to the sight of the distant volcano. Dark clouds swirled over its peak, and thick columns of smoke rose from its depths, like the heavy breath of some ancient, slumbering beast. On his shoulder, Pilor sat quietly, his sharp eyes gleaming, chirping softly, as if sensing the impending danger.
"We're close," Vem muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the howling winds.
With that, Vem spread his wings and took flight, the wind tugging at his black tunic as he soared. His grip tightened on the golden hilt of Seraphina, his sword forged in heaven and pulsing with light in his hand. A beacon of hope, it shimmered as he hovered mid-air, and Pilor flew beside him with effortless grace.
Below them, the landscape was a ruined wasteland of cracked earth and jagged rocks, rivers of molten lava winding from the bowels of Mount Emeron. They flew over the Valley of Dust, where the ruins of once-great cities lay buried beneath centuries of ash. They crossed the Black Sea, its waters bubbling and boiling from the heat radiating from the volcano. Vem's heart pounded as they drew closer to the mountain. His mission was clear: find the fallen angel and return her to Cevastein.
Yet beneath the urgency of the mission, something more gnawed at him—a deep, unshakable fear. He had heard the stories, tales of angels who failed to save the fallen, angels who could not bring them back from their descent. He would not allow himself to fail.
As they approached Mount Emeron, the heat became nearly unbearable, even through his armor. Vem landed on the cliff's edge, overlooking the heart of the volcano. Its molten core glowed with a menacing light, casting fiery reflections in the air.
The, suspended high above, chained in divine iron, was the fallen angel. Her body hung limp, her wings charred at the edges but still faintly glowing with a celestial light.
Long, midnight-colored hair spilled in dark waves over her shoulders, and her skin held a soft, silvery sheen. Her wings, though battered, retained the grace of the heavens. Around her neck hung a luminous crescent-shaped pendant, casting a gentle glow on her face. The pendant shimmered like starlight, with tiny flecks of gold in the silver.
Vem's breath caught. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice rising. He flew closer, the heat intensifying with each beat of his wings.
She stirred weakly, lifting her head. Her deep purple eyes met his, filled with an ancient sorrow that pierced his soul. "I thought no one would come," she croaked.
"I'm here now," Vem replied, reaching for the chains that held her. The divine iron glinted ominously, a material known for its strength and the power it held over angels. Vem had to be cautious; any sudden movement could worsen her condition or cause the chains to tighten further. His fingers brushed against the cold metal, and he focused, willing Seraphina to emit a radiant glow.
But as his fingers touched the iron, her pendant began to flicker.
"No!" she gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "The pendant... If it goes out, I'll fall."
The light of the pendant dimmed, fading fast. Vem's heart raced. "Stay with me! I won't let you fall, I promise!"
Before he could act, the pendant's light vanished completely. With a sudden crack, the chains snapped, and the fallen angel plummeted toward the molten core of Mount Emeron.
"Dammit!" Vem roared, diving after her, his wings flapping furiously as he closed the gap. He extended one arm down, grasping her hand with urgency.
In one swift motion, he shifted his grip from her hand to her waist, stabilizing her as he fought to pull her up. The intense heat pressed against him, but he focused on her, his heart pounding in sync with the urgency of the moment.
As they hovered above the volcano, a terrible screech filled the air. The ground rumbled, and from the depths of the molten core, a colossal creature began to rise. Its body was forged from molten stone, and its eyes burned with the fury of a thousand suns. A dragon-serpent hybrid, the monster towered above them, lava dripping from its fanged mouth.
Vem tightened his grip on the fallen angel with one arm while positioning himself for a defensive maneuver. "Pilor!" he shouted. "Attack!"
The royal bird, high above, let out a warning cry and dove toward them.
The monster lunged, swiping at them with fiery claws. Vem barely dodged the attack, using his wings to propel them upward while keeping her safe. He could not afford to let the beast's rage distract him. With his free hand, he called upon Seraphina, the sword racing back to him, glowing with holy light.
With a swift motion, Vem hurled the sword through the air. It spun like a comet and struck the monster in the chest, embedding itself in the creature's molten flesh. The beast roared in agony, lava spewing from the wound as it writhed in pain.
But the battle was far from over. The beast lunged again, and Vem narrowly avoided the attack, his wings working furiously to keep them aloft. Still gripping the fallen angel tightly, he prepared for another strike. With a final, determined cry, he charged. He sliced through the beast's molten hide with a clean strike. The monster let out a final, earth-shattering roar before it disintegrated, its body collapsing into the lava below.
Breathing heavily, Vem hovered over the volcano, still clutching the unconscious fallen angel. Her pendant had gone dark, its light extinguished. He gazed down at her, feeling the weight of the battle and the gravity of their narrow escape. There was no time to rest. He needed to get her to safety.
Vem soared through the night sky, carrying the angel toward Cevastein, a grand palace perched atop the highest peak of the kingdom. When he arrived, he descended into the cold, dimly lit dungeons beneath the palace, where the other fallen angels were imprisoned. Gently, he laid her on the stone floor of an empty cell, her face peaceful, bathed in the pale light.