The journey to the capital was swift but tense. Gabriel's silent presence only added to the weight in Meredith's chest as they crossed through the familiar lands of Pyria. His golden gaze remained fixed ahead, unreadable, as the wind ruffled his white wings. For Meredith, the gravity of what lay ahead tugged at her thoughts with each passing mile.
When they reached the castle gates, Victoria was outside, her expression tight with the weight of the kingdom's troubles. The sight of Gabriel descending with Meredith startled her, but she quickly regained her composure.
She didn't ask why Meredith had arrived in such an unexpected and dramatic manner; she only knew that whatever had brought her sister here couldn't wait.
Without a word, she stepped forward and took Meredith's arm, her grip firm but steady as she guided her inside, her urgency overriding any questions for the moment.
In the grand chamber, the King and Queen stood side by side, their regal composure masking the tension that crackled in the air. Meredith and Victoria faced them, their expressions demanding answers that had been long withheld. Behind them, Gabriel silently followed.
Before entering, Meredith had pulled Victoria aside in a quiet alcove, her tone urgent and unwavering. "The marks," she began, her grip firm on her sister's arm. "They're connected to the dragons. Elyon's plan, the kingdom's survival—it's all tied to the marks."
Victoria's eyes widened, confusion and alarm flashing across her face. "What are you saying? The marks are ceremonial, nothing more."
Meredith shook her head, her jaw tight. "No. They're more. People with marks—they transform into dragons. It's not just a symbol. It's a binding claim, and our family knew this. They knew and allowed it."
Victoria's voice faltered as she replied, "Transform into dragons? This can't be true. This—this is madness."
"Just follow my lead," Meredith urged, her tone softening briefly. "We're not leaving without answers."
Now, standing in the grand chamber, Meredith wasted no time, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "The marks. The dragons. You knew. You knew all along what they meant, what they would cost—and you allowed it."
The King's shoulders stiffened, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His gaze met hers, steady but shadowed with a weariness born of long-held secrets.
For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching unbearably. Then, with a heavy sigh, he spoke, his tone low and measured.
"We did what was necessary," he said, the quiet gravity of his words filling the room. "Pyria would not have survived without Elyon's favor. The marks were the price of that survival."
Victoria, still reeling from Meredith's revelation, took a step forward, her voice trembling. "You knew what the marks really meant? That they turn people into dragons? And you still let this happen?"
The Queen stepped forward, her voice gentler but no less firm. "Do you think we made this choice lightly? Pyria was a fledgling kingdom, struggling to find its footing. Elyon offered us protection, prosperity—a chance for our people to thrive. It was a choice between survival and annihilation."
Meredith's fists clenched. "And you didn't think to tell us? To warn us that we were bargaining with our lives?"
The King sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "We hoped you'd never have to know. That the price would never fall to you."
Gabriel's voice cut through the tension, calm but piercing. "The marks are more than symbols. They are bonds. And Meredith's mark is unlike any other."
Meredith turned to Gabriel, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
Gabriel's golden eyes softened, though his tone remained steady. "You are not merely marked. Your destiny is tied to Pyria itself. You are its protector—its last line of defense. Your mark binds you to the kingdom, and when the time comes, it will call upon you to make the ultimate sacrifice."
Meredith's breath hitched. "Sacrifice?"
Gabriel hesitated before answering. "To fully embrace your dragon form would save the kingdom. But it would also sever your ties to humanity. You would become something... beyond mortal, yet no longer yourself."
Victoria's face paled, and she grasped Meredith's hand tightly. "There has to be another way," she said, her voice breaking. "You can't ask her to give up her life for this."
Meredith swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor as Gabriel's words sank in. The weight of her role, her duty, pressed down on her like an iron shackle.
---
That night, Meredith lay awake, her mind racing with the enormity of what she had learned. The firelight flickered across her chamber walls as she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind.
Could she truly give up everything—her humanity, her life—for the kingdom? Was she ready to become a dragon, knowing she might never feel the earth beneath her feet, never hear her sister's voice, or laugh with her soldiers again?
Her mark pulsed faintly against her skin, as though answering her unspoken questions. The kingdom needed her. Pyria's survival depended on her willingness to embrace this destiny.
When dawn broke, Meredith rose with a newfound resolve. The weight of her decision sat heavy in her chest, but it was a burden she was willing to bear. As the pale light filtered through the castle windows, she made her way to the study, where she knew Victoria would be.
Her sister was there, as expected, hunched over a table cluttered with maps, scrolls, and urgent letters. Victoria's face was drawn, her fingers gripping the edge of a document as if sheer will could force the words on the page to rewrite themselves. When she heard Meredith's footsteps, she glanced up, exhaustion and worry etched into her features.
"I've made up my mind," Meredith said softly, stepping into the room.
Victoria's eyes widened, her hand faltering over the table. "You can't mean—" she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
"If this is what it takes to protect everyone," Meredith interrupted gently, her voice steady but not without warmth, "then I'll do it."
Victoria's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, she looked younger, stripped of her regal composure. "But what about you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What about your life? What about everything you've fought for?"
Meredith forced a small, brave smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "If it means they'll live, then it's a life well spent."
The silence that followed was heavy with the unspoken truth they both knew: there was no other choice.
Bargaining with Elyon was an option neither of them could stomach. His terms were always absolute, his price steep.
To approach him now, at Pyria's weakest, would be to kneel before a force that saw them as little more than pawns in his divine game. It was unthinkable—and yet, the weight of that impossibility only underscored the necessity of Meredith's decision.
Victoria's hands clenched into fists on the table. "You shouldn't have to pay this price, Meredith. It's not fair. None of this is fair."
Meredith reached out, placing a steadying hand on her sister's. "Fairness doesn't save kingdoms. Sacrifice does."
Victoria's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, her grip tightening around Meredith's hand. "I wish there were another way."
"So do I," Meredith admitted, her voice softening. "But there isn't. We can't buy time with Elyon, not now. The only thing we have left to give is me."
Victoria turned away, brushing at her eyes. "I hate this," she muttered, her voice raw with emotion. "I hate that it has to be you. I hate that we're even in this position."
Meredith moved to her side, pulling her into an embrace. For a moment, the two sisters stood there, leaning on each other as the weight of the kingdom bore down on them. When Victoria finally pulled back, her expression was resigned but resolute.
"If this is the path you've chosen," Victoria said quietly, "then I'll do everything in my power to make sure it's worth it."
Meredith nodded, her resolve unwavering. "And I'll make sure Pyria survives, no matter what."
---
From the shadows of the hall, Gabriel watched the exchange, his golden eyes fixed on Meredith. Something deep within him stirred—something that had no place in the heart of an angel.
He admired her resolve, her selflessness, but it was more than that. Meredith had become more than a duty, more than a mortal he was meant to guide. She was a force of nature, a light that burned so brightly it made him question everything he knew about his purpose.
For centuries, he had obeyed Elyon's will without question. But now, standing in the quiet of the castle, Gabriel realized he was no longer the angel he had been.
Meredith had changed him, and the feelings she stirred in him were dangerous—feelings that could lead to rebellion, to ruin, to a fall.
The memory came unbidden, pulling Gabriel back to a time long ago.
---
Meredith had been a child then, no more than six years old, with wide eyes full of wonder and defiance. She had stood before him, her tiny hand clutching a crown of daisies.
"Will you marry me?" she had asked, her voice bold and unwavering.
Gabriel had smiled—a rare, genuine smile.
The days that followed were filled with moments etched into his memory. Meredith, with her endless energy and audacious curiosity, had insisted on showing him every hidden corner of the castle grounds.
She'd dragged him to the gardens, her tiny fingers tugging insistently at his hand, as she eagerly recounted stories of imaginary battles and grand adventures.
When she wasn't regaling him with her tales, she was daring fate itself—climbing trees too high for her small frame, balancing precariously on the castle walls, or venturing far too close to the riverbanks.
Gabriel had watched her antics with a mix of bemusement and quiet vigilance, always stepping in at the last moment to pull her back from danger.
"Are you always going to save me?" she'd asked once, pouting as he set her firmly on the ground after retrieving her from a particularly reckless climb.
"Perhaps," he replied, his voice tinged with rare humor. "Someone has to keep you from breaking your neck."
She'd laughed then, a sound so pure and joyous that it had caught him off guard, echoing in a place he hadn't known could feel warmth.
But the simplicity of those days couldn't last. One evening, beneath a sky painted in hues of gold and crimson, Elyon's decree had come.
Meredith, as a royal, was to bear the mark—a bond that would tie her not only to her kingdom but to Elyon's grand design. With that decree, Gabriel's purpose in Pyria had reached its end. His task, as Elyon's emissary, was to ensure the kingdom's foundation was set, its rulers aligned with the divine will. The mark was the final piece, a symbol of that alignment, and once it was bestowed, Gabriel would no longer be needed in this corner of the mortal realm.
Gabriel's heart had grown heavy with the weight of the knowledge. The carefree child he had come to protect, the one who had made him laugh and remember a softer world, would be bound to something far greater—and far more devastating—than she could ever understand.
The marking ceremony had been solemn, the grand hall bathed in a golden glow. Gabriel stepped forward, his expression composed but tense, as he extended his hand.
A radiant sigil of light formed in his palm, its intricate patterns pulsating with Elyon's divine power. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, as Gabriel moved closer to Meredith. He pressed the sigil against her skin, just above her heart, and a searing light flared.
A drop of his own blood followed, merging with the sigil to complete the bond. The mark appeared, shimmering faintly, its shape intricate and otherworldly.
For a fleeting moment, Meredith's wide eyes met his, a flicker of pain and confusion crossing her face. The connection between them was undeniable—raw, intense, and burdened with the weight of what had just transpired.
Gabriel's hand trembled ever so slightly as a sharp pain radiated through him, a brief but excruciating echo of the process. He drew back, wings shifting as though to steady himself, the lingering warmth of the sigil imprinted in his palm. The silence that followed was deafening, the mark now a permanent reminder of Elyon's claim—and of Gabriel's role in forging it.
Later in Meredith's chamber, Gabriel sneaked in. He stood in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and casting shadows across the room.
Meredith lay on her small bed, her breathing slow and even, her six-year-old face serene despite the weight that had just been placed upon her. The mark shimmered faintly on her chest.
Gabriel stepped closer, his movements silent as his wings folded tightly behind him. His hand hovered above her, trembling slightly as he summoned the spell.
The air shifted, a faint shimmer enveloping the space around him as he formed a sigil and ancient words formed on his lips.
"Forget," he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet it carried the weight of divine command.
The spell flowed from him in soft, silken waves, wrapping around Meredith like a veil. Her mark pulsed faintly in response, its glow dimming as the magic took hold. Gabriel watched as her small body relaxed further, her dreams shifting into a peaceful haze.
But as the spell was working its way, her lashes fluttered, her small face shifting with a fleeting awareness. Her eyes opened—soft, sleepy, yet bright with that unshakable curiosity unique to her.
Gabriel froze, his breath catching as those innocent eyes locked on him, unguarded and unafraid.
"Who are you?" she murmured, her voice a faint, dreamlike whisper.
The magic swirled around her, the spell nearing completion, and Gabriel felt its pull as though it tethered him as well. His chest tightened, an unfamiliar ache blooming there.
"I'm no one," he whispered at last, his voice as soft as the moonlight that bathed the room. It wasn't the truth, but it was all he could give her.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, her small hand loosening its grip on something. Gabriel's gaze dropped, and his heart wrenched at the sight of a crown of daisies slipping from her fingers, falling to the floor with a soft rustle.
He stepped back, his wings unfurling slightly as though to shield himself from the enormity of the moment. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of his magic fading into stillness.
Turning, he vanished into the shadows of the chamber, his whispered words lingering behind him like a ghost. And though her memory would carry no trace of him, Gabriel knew he would carry hers forever.
But now, standing in the present, Gabriel couldn't shake the memory of her gaze—the spark of something unbreakable in those young, defiant eyes.
---
As the night deepened, the two sisters shared a quiet, tearful goodbye. Their words were few, but the unspoken bond between them carried the weight of everything they couldn't say. Victoria watched as Gabriel stepped from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he extended a hand toward Meredith.
Meredith turned to her sister one last time, her smile bittersweet. "Take care of them," she whispered before placing her hand in Gabriel's.
Together, they ascended into the night sky, the air cool and crisp against Meredith's skin. The stars shimmered above them like scattered diamonds, their soft light mingling with the faint glow of the city below.
Meredith sat securely in Gabriel's arms, her fingers instinctively clutching his shoulder as the rhythmic beat of his wings carried them higher, each stroke powerful yet deliberate.
The silence between them was thick but not uncomfortable. The vast expanse of the heavens enveloped them, the world below shrinking into insignificance as Gabriel flew with a grace that felt almost otherworldly.
Meredith tilted her head back, her gaze tracing the stars as they flickered above. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the rush of wind.
Gabriel's golden eyes flicked down to her, his expression softened by the starlight. "It always is," he replied, his voice low, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the moment.
For a while, Meredith forgot the weight of her decision, the kingdom, and the marks. All that mattered was the way Gabriel's arms steadied her, the warmth of his presence cutting through the chill of the night air.
As they flew, the capital's lights faded into the distance, replaced by the shadowy outline of Elysia Island. The sea below glistened like liquid silver, and the cliffs rose up like silent sentinels guarding the lush paradise beyond.
Meredith glanced up at Gabriel, her heart skipping a beat as she caught the faintest trace of something in his expression—an unspoken tenderness, a fleeting vulnerability that felt entirely at odds with his usual stoicism. She didn't look away, even as her cheeks warmed under his gaze.
"Thank you," she said softly, the words simple but laden with meaning.
Gabriel's wings shifted slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he returned his focus to the horizon.
"You don't need to thank me," he said, but his tone betrayed a quiet depth.
The island came into view, its cliffs illuminated by the silvery moonlight. As they descended, Meredith glanced down, expecting Gabriel to land her in the shadows, keeping his presence hidden from her troops.
But this time, he didn't.
Instead, Gabriel descended toward the heart of the camp, his wings spread wide and luminous as they caught the firelight below. Soldiers stopped mid-task, their gazes snapping upward as the angel's form became visible in the night sky. A stunned silence fell over the camp as Gabriel landed gracefully in their midst, folding his wings behind him with deliberate poise.
For a moment, no one moved. The sight of the celestial being left the troops frozen in awe and disbelief, their murmurs rising like a tide. Garrick stepped forward instinctively, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword, while Fresia stood rooted to the spot, her wide eyes fixed on Gabriel.
Meredith dismounted, glancing around at the stunned faces before turning to Gabriel. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but Gabriel spoke first, his voice resonating with an authority that commanded absolute attention.
"I am Gabriel," he announced, his golden eyes sweeping over the soldiers. "And I am here to fight alongside you."
The camp erupted into a cacophony of whispers, disbelief mingling with awe. Garrick hesitated, then stepped forward, his jaw set. "You're here to fight? For us?"
Gabriel turned his gaze to Garrick, inclining his head slightly. "For Pyria."
The declaration hung in the air, its weight undeniable. Fresia finally found her voice, whispering to Meredith, "He's... he's really here."
Meredith blinked, surprised by Gabriel's bold declaration, the weight of his words resonating through the gathered soldiers. For a moment, her mind raced, caught between disbelief and admiration. But she quickly steadied herself, recognizing the significance of the moment. This was no time for hesitation.
She stepped forward, her cloak trailing behind her as the murmurs of her troops quieted under her commanding presence.
Gabriel stood tall beside her, his golden wings folded but radiating an undeniable aura of authority. Meredith's gaze swept over the soldiers, taking in their wide eyes and tense postures.
Her voice rang clear and firm. "He is," she confirmed, meeting the gaze of her right-hand man Garrick, who nodded subtly in acknowledgment. "An angel has chosen to stand with us. Together, we will protect this kingdom—not just with strength, but with unity."
Her tone softened, measured, but firm. "I know the stakes," she said, her voice steady and carrying just enough warmth to reach every soldier in the camp. "I won't stand here and tell you it's going to be easy. The road ahead is steep, and the cost will be great. But Pyria is worth it. Every life in this kingdom, every family depending on us—it's all worth fighting for."
Her gaze swept over the group, resting momentarily on Garrick, Fresia, and a few of the younger soldiers whose uncertainty flickered like shadows across their faces. She straightened her back, her posture exuding quiet resolve. "We're not just fighting to hold the line; we're fighting for the chance to rebuild, to prove that this kingdom doesn't break under pressure. That we don't run. That we don't give up."
The camp seemed to inhale as one, the tension hanging in the air transforming into something sharper—focused determination. Gabriel's golden eyes flicked toward Meredith, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them, a shared acknowledgment of the stakes and their place in this battle.
"Prepare yourselves," Meredith continued, her voice carrying the weight of both hope and urgency. "The fight ahead will be the hardest we've ever faced. But with Gabriel among us, we have an edge. Let's not waste it."
A ripple of awe swept through the camp. Slowly, the tension began to melt away, replaced by a cautious but growing sense of hope. Gabriel's presence, his words, and the sheer magnitude of his declaration left no room for doubt—Pyria's fight had taken on a new, celestial force.
Meredith turned slightly, her shoulder brushing against Gabriel's as she leaned closer, her voice dropping just for him.
"Thanks for not staying in the shadows this time," she said, her tone light but sincere.
Gabriel's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "You're welcome. Try not to waste this moment yourself, Commander."
Meredith smirked, but her heart swelled.