(Convergence Arc – III)
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[Seraphine's side]
The world was quiet after the storm.
Not peace — just the silence that comes when even prayers stop answering back.
Seraphine walked through the ruined chapel of a border town, her white robes torn, gold embroidery dulled by ash and travel dust. The sunlight through broken glass painted her face in fractured color — crimson, blue, gold — as if heaven itself couldn't decide what she was anymore.
She stopped before the altar.
Once, she would have knelt. Now, she only stared.
Seraphine: "Was it mercy… or hesitation?"
Her voice drifted into the emptiness.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him — the man of shadow whose eyes weren't cruel, just… tired. The one she was raised to call enemy, but who had spared her when he could have ended everything.
Seraphine: "You should've killed me."
She laughed weakly, the sound echoing against cracked stone.
Seraphine: "Maybe then I wouldn't be questioning every sermon I ever believed."
Outside, pilgrims passed — whispering rumors of a "black figure" wandering the north roads, followed by spirits and laughter. Some called it a ghost, others a god.
She turned toward the open door, sunlight spilling through like liquid gold. Her shadow stretched far ahead of her — and for a second, she thought it wasn't hers.
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[Sora's side]
The same sunlight touched another path — a muddy road lined with wilted flowers.
Sora walked aimlessly, cloak tattered, hood low, with Dorte trailing behind him — the man's hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
Sora: "So. You're still following me."
Dorte: "You owe me lunch."
Sora: "…I saved you from a collapsing tavern."
Dorte: "Yes. You also caused it."
Sora sighed, too tired to argue. The wind carried faint bells from a distant temple — soft, haunting, familiar.
He stopped, looking up at the clouds.
Sora: "Hey, Dorte… do you ever feel like you've forgotten something important?"
Dorte: "Every time I look at your face."
Sora: "That's not what I—"
Dorte: "Relax, Lord Shadow Hangover. I'm listening."
There was a hint of a smile beneath the man's calm tone — the kind of quiet humor that didn't break the mood but softened it.
Sora's eyes dimmed, distant.
Sora: "When I fought her… I saw something. Not power. Not light. It was… familiar. Like a memory trying to remember me."
Dorte didn't answer. He looked up at the same sky, squinting.
Dorte: "Maybe some souls keep crossing until they remember what they're missing."
Sora turned to him.
Sora: "…You say weird things for someone who pretends to be normal."
Dorte: "And you pretend to be human."
Sora: "Touché."
They walked on — two silhouettes against a trembling horizon.
---
[Seraphine's side]
Night came early that day, as if the sun had lost its courage.
Seraphine lit a single candle in the chapel. Its flame flickered as she read the same scripture she'd once memorized as a child. The words spoke of purity, of righteous wrath, of divine justice.
They all sounded hollow now.
Seraphine: "If he is the darkness… why does he look more human than I feel?"
Her hand trembled — the candlelight bent toward her, like even the fire wanted to listen.
She closed the book, whispering.
Seraphine: "Maybe… we were never enemies. Just reflections that never met at the right time."
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[Sora's side]
He camped under a dying tree, the moon hanging low and pale above him. Dorte sat nearby, roasting something unidentifiable over a weak fire.
Sora leaned back, eyes tracing constellations that refused to stay still.
Sora: "This world feels… off. Like it's waiting for something to happen."
Dorte: "Or someone."
The air shifted — cold, then strangely still.
Sora looked toward the horizon, where the faint outline of a cathedral stood far beyond the fog. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw her there — a shape in white, hair glinting gold in moonlight.
He blinked. Gone.
Sora: "…Dreams bleeding into daylight again."
Dorte: "Maybe daylight's just learning to dream."
Sora chuckled softly.
Sora: "You talk like a poet."
Dorte: "You fight like one."
Silence settled — heavy, comfortable. The moon reflected faintly in Sora's eyes, and for the first time in centuries, they didn't look empty.
---
Far apart, yet beneath the same moon — two souls paused mid-step, as if something invisible brushed their hearts.
Seraphine looked up through the chapel window; Sora looked up from his fire.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
A single thought passed between them — wordless, uncertain, and painfully familiar.
> "Why does it feel like we've met before?"
The night wind carried the sound of the same bell across both lands.