Outside the ruins of Sanctum Keep, a crowd was quickly gathering.

Children and their parents had come stumbling up the mound of dirt and craggy rocks to see what all the fuss was up past the decimated bridge where the grand castle of the Archons once stood. They saw a squad of guards at the bridgehead, trepidation draped across their faces. Muffled voices were coming from the entrance to the Keep dungeons. Everywhere in Sanctum, there was a feeling that something momentous was happening.

Whispers

"Move it! Make way, make way!"

Borlor pushed through to the front of thronging crowd, setting his eyes on the first of the guards.

"What in the bloody name of Ethan is going on here? We've got repairs to complete here – what's causing this holdup!"

The guards stiffened at his fury, seeing the Geomancer Magi appear alongside him.

But their leader – a brash young Lycae named Tarant with orders right from the top – straightened up and told them exactly what he'd been told to.

"The Archon is in discussion with the Lightborn," he said. "He has decreed that he should not be disturbed."

Whispers spread through the crowd, carried mainly by the children among them.

"It's true! He's still down there!"

"B-but it's been a whole week!"

"Maybe he's…y'know."

"No! Ethan's stronger than that old man. He's probably torturing him!"

"Nancy! No more talk like that!"

Amidst such parental admonishments, Borlor the Dixit tried pushing passed the guards.

"Let me through!" he said as the crowd continued their chatterings. "The Archon could be in danger!"

The guards did not budge. Instead, they slapped their halberds hard on the stone floor.

"Don't make me ask again, boy."

Tarant stared past Borlor, knowing that the old blacksmith could rip him apart if he chose.

"The Archon has given us His orders," he said. "Nothing in this world will compel us to disobey."

"Not even us?"

A shockwave went up the crowd and the entire throng began to part for three figures that had begun walking through their ranks. Only one awestruck Minxit child held its mama's frigid hand and cried out, "It's…. it's them!"

She was speaking for everyone in Sanctum. Tarant and his warriors buckled as the three Guardians of the Archon emerged before them.

Tara was the one who spoke for them, emboldened, and with an air of authority that her old roguish friends in the crowd couldn't help but snicker at.

"We've got some urgent business with the Archon, as it turns out."

Tarant hesitated. He felt the eyes of his men turn to him.

"That is…we hold nothing but respect for the Guardians of the Archon. But not even we can give you entrance to his discussion."

At Klax and Fauna's raised eyebrows, Tarant gestured over to the small conal entrance to the Keep dungeons. It was little more than a hole in the earth, but upon it had been placed a prismatic, hexagonal enchantment that could keep out even the most determined magi.

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"Reflector Shield," Fauna muttered. "Whatever's happening down there, Ethan doesn't want anyone to interrupt."

"Could it be..?" Klax whispered, catching the eyes of his companions and letting the question hang.

The three of them knew what Ethan intended. And, had this been maybe half a year ago, they would have doubted he'd manage it on his own. Now, however, they'd seen exactly what he could do. They'd seen that Jun'Ei's judgement had been placed on the right kind of man, and that he, in turn, would make the right kind of judgements for the world.

And they'd be right there by his side. As they'd always been.

The three of them chose not to push the matter further. Instead, the turned towards the crowd and, with a mischievous wink at Borlor, Tara raised her catty voice for all to hear:

"Your Archon's gonna emerge from that little hole over there more powerful than he's ever been before. You'll see. That's just what he does."

As she said those words, something began to vibrate before the feet of the crowd. Their collective eyes bulged at Tara.

"I'd stand back if I were you."

The Hybrids of Sanctum did as they were bid. They shuffled away, spurred on by nothing but Tara's words and her confident demeanor.

As they moved down the hill towards the city, they saw something beginning to glow from within the rubble of the Keep. It was a light that shone through the cracks of the broken walls and ashen battlements, as radiant as the Lightborn's killing glare, but tinged with a lambent sheen of violet. One flash, then two, then three, four, five – before the Hybrids knew it the entire mound surrounding the throne of Sanctum was awash with the purple resonance that sparked with pure, unrestrained power.

They could feel the sheer heat radiating from the Keep ash-pile now. Almost like an explosion was ready to pop off. Tarant and his guards finally decided that they'd done their jobs – they retreated into the departing crowd with just as much fervor as everyone else, and left Borlor to stand beside Tara, Klax, and Fauna.

"By the Archo-" Borlor stuttered. "Get the hell back! Get ba-!"

The Dixit stopped his plea when he saw the swelling pride in the faces of the three warriors. It seemed impossible to believe - but there it was. In the face of power the likes of which Borlor had never felt before, those three showed no fear at all.

The ethereal light began to swirl round the ravaged castle, burning away what remained of the old Archons statues, sweeping away the banners and trinkets that defined the past of Sanctum – the old hopes of its people. It swirled like a ghostly snake chasing its own tail, becoming a maelstrom that rocketed up and formed a pillar of dark light that pierced the visible clouds that now hang above them all.

Then, with a crack of violet lightning, He emerged.

Where once there was nothing, now a humanoid figure stood in front of the Throne of Sanctum. Four feathered wings spread out from its back, surrounded by a halo of crackling violet light. A mane of raven-black hair flowed down its broad shoulders, and its face, gaunt and regal, were etched with runic lines of power that ended just at its blazing, purple eyes. In its right hand it held aloft a sword that shone with dark violet flame, tinged at its edges with a cloud of trailing shadow. Where once, its form had been bathed in the light of Kaedmon, now that light was replaced with a darkness that seemed to cling to it like a cloak – a darkness that it had pulled from the abyss of Sanctum and wore proudly round its neck.

And atop the head of this dark angel was perched a little blue hat, with a crimson eye sweeping over the nation that it would now lead into the world above.

Ethan checked his status, giving the Hybrids time to digest the sight they could scarcely believe they were seeing:

Ethan Hawke

Current Host: Artorious, the Angel of Kaedmon

LVL: 200

HP: 3500/3500

MP: 2000/2000

WILL: 3000/3000

STR: 200

PER: 185

SPD: 150

INT: 135

CHA: 100

He'd carried over everything from Revok into what he first assumed would be a blank vessel, with a few additions to his HP and Charisma.

And thanks to his newest Skill, this angel's killing light would fly again:

New Skills obtained: Angel Arm (Grade S), Azure Arc (Grade S), Shield of the Faithful (Grade S), Eyes of Raziel (Grade S), Judgement of Ethan (Grade S)

That last one had been a little addition he'd made. In his memory, it just sounded more appropriate with his name. And it was the Skill that he decided he'd use on old Kaedmon, when the time finally came.

And come it would, sooner rather than later.

For now he looked down on the flock of Hybrids, all of them crowding round him with reverant eyes – all of them dropping to their knees and letting his name drip from their lips, their tongues lingering on both syllables.

It was a sight that brought to mind Lamphrey's apocalyptic dream-vision, and for a moment he thought that this display of power might have been the wrong move.

But then he saw them.

His eyes fell upon the three who had been with him since the very start. The only three Hybrids who did not fall to their knees in supplication.

Instead, Fauna, Tara, and Klax all held a fist to their chests and called out to him in unison:

"My Archon!"

It looked like they'd made their decision. And that alone kept him from letting the dream take hold. So, instead of worrying, doubting, or envisioning what was to come, he smiled down at them.

"Not so formal, please," he said. "We have work to do."

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