[Alvar’s POV — Leif’s Office—Sa Ti]
"Woaaahhh!"
"Ohhh!"
"Thank you, my lord!"
The courtyard echoed with cheers, the kind of joy only soldiers could make over shiny rocks and exaggerated speeches.
I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching from above as Leif smiled at them—his expression warm, genuine, and radiant enough to rival the sunlight spilling across the marble floors.
He really doesn’t even realize it...
The way his voice carried through the air, steady and kind: "It may beco a small kingdom of its own, all because of you. So, thank you for everything—and for coming back safe."
My lips curved faintly. "He’ll definitely beco a good ruler..." I murmured under my breath.
A voice, smooth and familiar, cut through my thoughts like a blade.
"That’s because... that’s the fate he’s already chosen."
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The Second Prince’s tone always carried that irritating mix of amusent and warning.
"I was having a peaceful mont," I said quietly, eyes still fixed on Leif below. "Try not to ruin it."
But, of course, he ignored completely.
"Did you not read the book yet?"
My grip on the window fra tightened. Slowly, I turned to face him. "Why do I feel like you want to?"
He smirked, lounging against the doorfra like he owned the place. "Because that’s exactly what I want, Grand Duke."
Our eyes t—his gleaming with mischief, mine cold as steel—but under that icy calm, sothing twisted in my chest.
I turned back toward the window, toward him. Toward Leif. His laughter carried faintly upward, soft and unguarded.
That book... It’s sitting in my desk, waiting. The one given by the Priest—the one that could tell what kind of power Leif possesses. And yet... I haven’t opened it.
Because deep down, I know what I’ll find won’t just be words. It’ll be the truth.
Truth about who sealed his holy power. And the truth about why Leif—of all people—feels so achingly familiar to my soul.
I could feel the faint tremor in my own hand as I exhaled.
... No one in his family knows about his Holy power. And yet...I am so nervous to find what kind of power he possesses.
Why? Why am I——scared?
A soft laugh broke the silence. "You know what’s funny about you humans, Grand Duke?"
I turned slightly, eting his gaze. The Second Prince stepped closer, his presence filling the room like a shadow sliding across sunlight. His long coat brushed the carpet as he walked toward my desk, eyes glinting in amusent.
"You humans," he began, fingers tracing the spine of the ancient book that lay untouched, "you fear everything. You grow with too much expectation, chain yourselves to the ghosts of your past, and cower at the idea of your own future."
He looked at then—smiling, but not kindly. "You call it wisdom. I call it cowardice."
I didn’t move. "And what would you know about fear, Your Highness?"
He chuckled lowly, tilting his head. "More than you think. I’ve seen it in kings who begged the gods for rcy. In saints who cursed heaven before dying. And now..." His gaze flicked toward the window where Leif stood far below, surrounded by knights and sunlight. "...I see it in you."
My jaw tightened. "You don’t understand."
"Oh, but I do." He leaned forward, voice soft and cutting. "You’re afraid of him. Afraid of what he is. Afraid that you’ll lose him, right?"
There was deep silence. I couldn’t speak because...it’s true.
"I’ve seen too many humans like you, Grand Duke—always trembling at the thought of losing their love."
My eyes narrowed.
"You..." I began slowly, studying the sharp lines of his face. "...you speak as if you’re not human at all. As if you’ve lived far too long to still pretend."
For a mont, the amusent drained from his expression. His gaze sharpened, cold and ancient—sothing unearthly flickering behind his irises. Then, as if catching himself, he smiled again. Smooth. Effortless. Dangerous.
"Perhaps I have," he murmured. "But that’s a story for another ti."
He turned toward the door, his coat trailing behind him like a shadow stretching over the floor. "I shall et Leif now. Don’t worry," he added lightly, glancing back with a faint smirk. "I won’t touch him. I wouldn’t want my king to be scrubbed again."
Before I could respond, he was gone—leaving only the fading echo of his boots against marble and the faint chill of unease crawling up my spine.
I sighed, "He gives a headache..." I mumbled.
My gaze drifted back to the desk. The book still lay there—bound in brown leather, sealed with threads of gold light that pulsed softly, like it was breathing. Watching. Waiting.
I swallowed. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached toward it. Every instinct scread not to. But curiosity... and fear... have always been the most dangerous pair.
"I guess," I whispered to no one, "... I have no choice but to read."
The golden seal flickered, and for an instant, I swore I heard sothing—a faint whisper, like wings unfurling in the dark.
And then... the light bled open.
***
[The Chronicle of the Beginning—The Prophecy of Light]
Before kingdoms rose, before mortals learned to pray, the world was a battlefield of light and shadow. When the earth burned—choked with rot and corpses—and devils devoured the souls of n, the heavens wept.
And from that weeping sky... He descended.
A fla of divine judgnt—crowned with six radiant wings and a heart that burned with the will of creation. When the Great Devil crawled out from the Abyss, spreading corruption through the heavens, it was He who stood against it.
For seven days and seven nights, light and darkness clashed. Mountains lted. Seas turned to ash.Even the gods trembled.
And when the heavens themselves began to bleed, the descended one tore his own divine heart from his chest and forged from it the Chains of Eternity—binding the Devil deep beneath the mortal realm.
But the price was steep.
His body turned to light. His soul scattered to the winds. And his voice faded from the skies.
Yet the gods, in their sorrow, blessed him with a Power. The Chosen Child of Seraph will rise. The child will bear all the powers of Seraph. He is not a god. He is not a saint.
He is the Bearer of the Seraph Fla —a mortal chosen to carry the burden of heaven’s last warrior.
And when darkness rises once more, when a fool dares summon the Devil again—He shall awaken too.
He shall gather what was once scattered:
The flas from the dragons. The wisdom of the elves. The strength of the dwarves. The grace of the angels. The craft of the magicians and the faith of the spirits.
Together, they shall stand as one army of light.
All will gather around him—the heir of the Seraph King—for he alone can reunite heaven’s lost children and stand once more against the Devil’s reign.
***
[Alvar’s POV — Back to Present—Leif’s Office]
The last line hung in the air like a blade over my throat.
"And once more, the Seraph King shall rise."
The ink shimred faintly against the candlelight, as if the words themselves refused to die. My hands... they were trembling. I didn’t even realize it until a drop of wax fell on the page—soft, red, almost like blood—and I flinched.
"Seraph King..." I whispered, tasting the na like it might burn.
The sa divine na from the forbidden hymns. The one the priests never dared to utter without trembling in pain.
I closed my eyes.Light. Wings. Fire.
The image seared behind my eyelids—the sa feeling I had when I first t Leif. That impossible warmth, that gravity in his gaze... that echo of divinity that made my soul kneel before I even understood why.
And then—it hit .
"Is... is this why Elowen wanted Leif to take an oath for her?" I breathed, my pulse roaring in my ears.
"She knows..." My voice cracked, trembling as realization unfurled like a storm. "She knows that Leif’s power isn’t so re saint’s blessing."
I turned toward the window, where the faint moonlight still bathed the courtyard in silver. Leif was yawning lazily, smiling faintly at the Crimson pups, unaware—so blissfully unaware—of what slept beneath his skin.
"It’s not a saint’s power..." I whispered, barely able to breathe. "It’s the power of the Seraph."
My eyes darted back to the open book. The last line burned on the page, its divine ink glowing faintly, almost mocking .
And when darkness rises once more, when a fool dares summon the Devil again—He shall awaken too.
The words slamd into like thunder. My blood ran cold.
"That ans..." I rasped, every nerve in my body screaming with the truth I didn’t want to accept."That ans..."
The candle beside flickered violently—its fla twisting, stretching upward like it, too, sensed what I was about to say.
"The Devil... has been awakened?"
The wind outside howled through the window, scattering parchnt across the room. Sowhere far away, thunder cracked across a clear sky—unnatural and cold.
And for the first ti in centuries, the world itself shuddered.
I stood frozen, staring at the trembling pages, at the faint glow still pulsing from the book’s script. My breath caught as one last thought crept in, cold as death.
If Leif has been awakened... then who sealed his power? And more terrifying still—
Who... awakened the Devil?
END OF SEASON ONE.
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