(Convergence Arc – IV)
The world was silent — the kind of silence that holds its breath before destiny speaks.
---
[Night – Border Plains]
Seraphine:
"…It's colder tonight."
Her voice broke softly against the wind as she stood by the edge of an abandoned chapel. The moon spilled silver light over the cracked stones, turning every shadow into a memory.
The saint's cloak fluttered gently, its white now stained with the dust of travel. Beneath that calm expression, her eyes flickered — not with holy radiance, but uncertainty.
Seraphine (thought):
If the light wavers in me… then what am I, truly?
Behind her, faint whispers of priests and paladins lingered — their faith shaken, their whispers like broken prayers. But Seraphine was already far from them.
She raised her gaze to the moon.
Its glow was soft, melancholic — a light that did not purify, but listened.
Seraphine:
"…You again."
She closed her eyes. The same dream had visited her for nights — a voice, low and distant, calling her name like a song half-forgotten. A man's voice.
But she could never see his face. Only a shadow, reaching out across time.
---
[Elsewhere – A lonely hill, same night]
Sora:
"…Still can't sleep."
He sat under a crooked tree, staring at the same moon. His shadow familiars slept nearby, their forms flickering like lazy embers. Dorte was the only one awake, tossing a pebble toward a campfire.
Dorte:
"You keep staring at the sky like it owes you answers."
Sora:
"It does. I'm just waiting for it to apologize for ruining my life."
Dorte:
"You sure it's the sky's fault?"
Sora glared. "Don't start being philosophical at midnight."
Dorte:
"You brought me along, so you get midnight philosophy."
They sat in silence for a moment. Wind brushed through the grass. A few fireflies drifted close, their light soft like heartbeat flickers.
Sora (thought):
Every time I close my eyes, I see that light again. Hers.
He didn't know why the thought hurt — or why it felt… nostalgic.
---
Dorte:
"You've been quieter lately. That's rare for you. Normally you're making your minions rehearse your 'evil laugh of domination.'"
Sora:
"…They were off-key."
Dorte:
"Right. That's definitely the problem."
Sora smirked faintly, but his eyes stayed distant.
Sora:
"Tell me something, Dorte… Do you ever feel like you've met someone before — someone you shouldn't remember?"
Dorte looked at him, half-shadowed by the firelight.
Dorte:
"Once. And I learned that kind of feeling usually means fate's about to mess with you."
Sora:
"Too late for that."
---
The world fades into two scenes—
Seraphine walking through the ruins of an old village, her hand tracing a wall with faint sigils of light.
Sora wandering through a meadow of silver grass, his shadows forming faint ripples behind him.
Every step mirrors the other — both drawn by something unseen.
Seraphine (thought):
Why does this ache feel familiar? Why does his name… whisper through my prayers?
Sora (thought):
Why do I remember her voice… when I shouldn't even know her?
The moon above seems to breathe between them — a bridge of quiet light connecting their doubts, their loneliness, their memories that do not belong.
---
[Approaching the Crossroads]
Dorte:
"There's a town ahead. Old border post, mostly ruins now."
Sora:
"Perfect. Maybe I can finally find a bed not made of regret and grass."
He stood, brushing off his coat. But as they descended the hill, something in the air changed. The wind grew colder — sharper, as if carrying two heartbeats at once.
At the same time, Seraphine approached from the opposite path, her steps light but uncertain. She too felt it — that inexplicable pull in her chest, like invisible strings drawing her forward.
Seraphine (whisper):
"…Someone's there."
Sora (quietly):
"…This feeling again."
---
[The Crossroads Beneath the Moon]
Dust swirled softly in the moonlight as two figures stopped at opposite ends of the road.
Neither spoke. Neither moved.
The world itself seemed to pause — the insects fell silent, the trees stilled, even the stars waited.
Sora's shadows recoiled slightly, as if recognizing something divine.
Seraphine's light dimmed, trembling as if it feared to shine too brightly.
Their eyes met — for the first time since that cataclysmic night.
Not as enemies.
Not as saint and sovereign.
But as something else — something deeper, ancient, forgotten.
Sora:
"…You."
Seraphine:
"…It's you."
The moonlight curved between them, pale and silent.
In that stillness, fragments of old memories rippled through their minds — laughter under a different sun, hands reaching, a promise whispered and broken by time.
Neither understood it, yet both felt it — the undeniable echo of a bond that defied centuries.
Seraphine (softly):
"Why… does it hurt to see you?"
Sora (faint smile):
"Because the universe likes irony."
A soft wind passed, scattering petals from unseen flowers. For an instant, their shadows touched.
And the world exhaled.
---
When the light met the shadow once more, neither conquered the other.
They simply remembered.
The moon hung quietly above, bearing witness — silver and eternal.
> "The world held its breath — for the sun and shadow had found each other once more."