Uriel was supposed to consume her, but he hadn’t. And he could’ve used his newfound, yet temporary, strength to interrogate her and learn more.

But he hadn’t.

WHOOSH!

Uriel appeared in front of Lucianna, staring down at her just as she looked up into his eyes, the longing within evident.

Her hands reached out to caress his chest as she drew closer, her breaths becoming laboured. Her body shook, as if a veil covering her was shattering and... she became identical to Miquella.

"I knew you’d choose right." Her eyes practically bled with emotion.

But Uriel didn’t spare her a glance. He simply sighed.

Another scheme, another choice he’d been stripped of, and another sky he’d had to carry on his back.

Who Lucianna—or Miquella, he didn’t know who was who—was didn’t matter. Her goals didn’t matter. Nothing did.

In part because he already knew who she was, but mostly because he’d given up.

"Listen," his gaze turned to Samael.

Samael’s eyes were red, tears flooding his face as his palms pressed against it, caught between fear and shock.

He didn’t understand what was happening. They’d originally gone out to eat, then went to train and help him understand his abilities, and now...

How had things spiralled so far?

"You’ll have to carry my body all the way up to the post. Let us get captured and just stay safe until I wake up. After that, I’ll wake up and we’ll do as planned."

Samael’s pupils shook. "But... y-your body... how a-... are you...?"

Uriel’s face, for the first time, reflected something other than apathy, and he softly smiled.

His smile oozed with a strange sort of energy, an energy that sank into Samael and made him feel the depths of his heart—its endless sorrow and agony.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

Samael didn’t immediately understand Uriel’s meaning, but seeing his head tilt toward the brazier, his eyes widened even more.

...

["But that is what Prometheus gave us the flame for. So you could burn the filth of your earth and use it to forge armor within which your clay body could lay."]

["So that you could add wings, however profane, to your back, and soar. So that you could leave a land of scorched marks behind and touch the stars at least once."]

["But as you live on the earth, if you burn it, then so will you."]

[A pause.]

["To soar, you must burn. You must spark the flame of your own agony."]

...

Those were the words Uriel had uttered to spark the formation of his Demi-God Path.

Back then, the words had meant nothing to Samael, but they had shaken his soul and laid before him his deepest truths.

But now, with everything that had happened, they carried an entirely different meaning.

Samael’s jaw clenched, hard. ’To soar, you must burn.’

Seeing that Samael understood, Uriel turned away, his smile fading as he did so. He faced the palace and the brazier.

Just as he was about to leave, though, a voice echoed.

"I-is there no other solution? How do you know you’re not going to die? How can you trust her? What if it’s a trap?!"

His eyes landed on the still-hypnotised figure of Miquella, who clung to Uriel like a long-lost lover.

Samael could hardly believe this was the cold entity who’d nearly killed Uriel and forced him to take this monstrous form.

"How do we know there’s not more chaos behind that decision?!"

Uriel slightly shrugged. "Who knows."

"I’ll burn and find out. If I live, then I’ll have been right."

Samael frowned. "And if you don’t?! What about my brother? What about the Spire? Don’t you have a home to return to?"

"No."

Uriel turned to face Samael. "But even if I did—"

He tapped his chest.

"—would my mother recognise me?"

He paused as he heard Samael’s heart skip a beat, as if letting him take in the full sight of the horror he’d become.

"Emrys will remain at your side. He’s a great boy. He’ll take you to heaven and back if needed."

Samael remained silent. All he could do was watch as Miquella and Uriel flew toward the brazier.

All he could do was stare at Uriel’s broad back, and his titanic wings that blotted out the skies.

All he could do was watch him fall toward the flames.

...

Uriel stood in front of the brazier.

The bowl-like structure was easily hundreds of meters wide, made of ancient gold and etched with countless old formations of white runes.

At the center of the brazier, a large dark flame burned with unmatched intensity. It was as dark as the void, yet its flickering tongues illuminated all things around it.

The heat it gave off was beyond words; enough to melt all atmospheric aether and turn the area into a void zone of emptiness.

Looking at the flames, Uriel could feel a deep and ancient spiritual law infused within them, holding unfathomable secrets.

He didn’t immediately move toward it, though. And Miquella, who stood at his side, did nothing to rush him.

She simply smiled, content with his choice.

’Why?’

Uriel seemed lost, but he wasn’t. Not entirely.

Lucianna’s plan—or Miquella’s—was simply to push him far enough to use the Heartless Vessel enchantment, then force him to use the flame to try and eradicate it.

With Lucianna’s ability to see the future, and Miquella’s Spiritual Law that allowed her to choose the outcomes she wanted, such a thing was easy to plan.

And it worked. He’d used the enchantment and had turned into a monster of flesh, with his only option being to use the flame.

He knew his conclusion was right because, when he used resonant dominance on Miquella during their battle, he’d read her intent and heart.

That was how he knew what her plan was, who she was, and why she’d lured him here through Emrys.

But he didn’t understand why.

Why do all this?

He’d be a fool not to notice that Miquella and Lucianna were nothing but tools, used by someone else to try and force him onto a path.

It was as Lucianna’s vessel had said—something was forcing him to walk a path of their choosing.

But also, as Lucianna herself had said, that ’something’ could only be his past self, since he was the one who had left Lucianna and Miquella here, and the one who had shattered his runic scar.

Uriel’s best guess was that his past self had somehow split something—an entity—into two halves, trapping one part in the palace, Miquella, and binding the other to the entire space, Lucianna.

The details didn’t matter, but he was almost certain he was right.

But the question remained.

’Why?’

Because of his Sin, there, functionally, was no past Uriel.

That meant that even if he assumed a past version of himself was trying to somehow revive themselves through him, it wasn’t possible.

It was a bit of a paradox, but he knew it was true. He had seen all their souls burn to form his Sin.

And if his past selves had all been as powerful as he believed them to be, they knew he’d choose the Sin—and that he’d thus kill them.

After all, was Ophanis not a memento left by his past to save him? Had his past self not used Thoryl to summon the gate and fix his sparks?

And had that not directly led to him gaining his Sin? His past self had almost surely done it on purpose.

It was incredibly confusing. On one side, his past was sabotaging him, but on the other, he was helping him survive the impossible odds he was facing.

So, why?

’Sacrifice.’

Uriel closed his eyes, and a deep sigh escaped his lips.