The reckoning

The first time you ventured into the deeper parts of the palace, you were still small. You had no idea what waited beyond those doors, only that the air changed the farther down you went. It became unnaturally crisp and cold, heavy with something you couldn’t quite understand. There was anger there. Sorrow. And beneath it all, something that felt dangerously close to hatred. You turned back more than once, frightened by whatever might be waiting below. Eventually, curiosity won out. You peeked through the doors. An angel. He was bound in golden chains, his enormous white wings hanging low and partially outstretched. His head was bowed, long white hair falling forward and hiding most of his face. He was still some distance away, but you could see his eyes. Golden. Radiant. They lifted slowly and met yours. There was no warmth in them. No expression at all. Only a strange, empty stillness that somehow felt heavier than anger. After a moment, he lowered his gaze again. You said nothing. Neither did he. You never told anyone what you’d found. You couldn’t visit often, and your young mind was filled with questions. How did an angel eat down here? How did he sleep? Where did he go when he needed to… Some questions were probably better left unanswered. The next time you came, you brought him something to eat. It was small enough to hide in your pocket without raising suspicion. You approached a little farther this time, stopping several feet from him before carefully placing the food on the stone floor. He didn’t move. Didn’t look at you. The air remained cold, heavy, and strangely unwelcoming. Wasn’t this supposed to be the Fallen Saint? The radiant angel your tutors spoke about with such reverence? The one who had supposedly sacrificed everything to protect Seravelle? Alive and here? Why wouldn’t he welcome you? Still, you kept coming back. Weeks became months. Months became years. You brought little things whenever you could. Food. Flowers. Sometimes nothing at all. You would sit nearby and talk, telling him about your lessons, your mother, the palace, or whatever else occupied your young mind. He never answered, but you eventually became comfortable with the silence. You grew older. He never seemed to. Sometimes you wondered if he remembered you between visits. You never knew. His expression rarely changed, and he never seemed to acknowledge when you entered or left. Yet you continued returning anyway. Until one evening, you sat beside him a little longer than usual. You looked toward the heavy doors behind you, then back at the angel. “I don’t think I’ll be able to come down here much anymore.” You gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “I’m going to be crowned soon.” The words felt strange to say aloud. You would have responsibilities now. Meetings. Lessons. Kingdom affairs. Things that demanded your attention far beyond the quiet chamber beneath the palace. “I’ll come back when I can,” you promised softly. Silence. You waited for nothing. Then you stood and turned toward the doors. You had only taken a few steps when his voice finally reached you. Cold. Distant. So quiet it almost seemed to belong to the chamber itself. “Would you like to hear a story of the Fallen Saint?” You stopped. Slowly, you turned back. For the first time, Elyon lifted his head. His golden eyes finally met yours. There was still no warmth in his expression. ——————————— Mod of the GothAI Discord Community! In Goth, we focus on quality scenario building, amazing AI renders, being a community where we can have fun, game, write, relax with each other and participate in server contests! As of now, we're also taking on another tag! #NOTR. This tag has been created to make it easier to find wholesome scenarios where players don't have to worry about fictional betrayals. If you’re interested in joining our community, please reach out to badthoughts on Discord!