Apostles' War

Elian Reyes

Eidalein, after the Mission to France

11:03 AM, Garden of Eden

I didn't know the exact moment I stopped trembling.

Maybe it was when the last of the ash settled across the cathedral ruins.

Maybe it was when Leon placed a steadying hand on my shoulder.

Or maybe it was earlier.

Much earlier.

Before the Seraphblade came.

Before I knew I was capable of standing on my own.

But even now, here in the calm light of Eidalein's sacred gardens — flowers blooming in impossible colors, and the distant hum of chimes carried on breeze-like prayer — I still felt it.

That moment...

That terrible, beautiful moment when I thought I would break… and chose not to.

⸻

The Grinshade Lord laughed with a thousand mouths, and every one of them echoed my fears back at me.

You're a mistake.

You don't belong.

You'll only slow them down.

Burden. Deadweight. Pretender.

Those weren't lies. Not really. Not the way lies usually are. They were truths twisted just enough to bite. Because I had thought those things. Not just once.

Even as Leon stood calm as a shadow, guiding us through the battlefield.

Even as Enoch leapt forward with unwavering conviction, light bursting with every step he took.

And I—

I trembled.

I froze.

Not because I was afraid to die.

But because I was afraid they would die because of me.

That my hesitation would cost them. That my presence would get in the way of the two Apostles who actually knew what they were doing. That the Seraphblade — beautiful, unreachable — had been wrong to mark me.

⸻

When Leon told me to take center, I almost said no.

I remember that.

The shape of the words hovered behind my teeth.

No. I can't. I'm not ready. I'm not enough.

But then I looked up.

And I saw them.

Enoch — his boots blazing golden against stone, drawing holy footprints that repelled the darkness.

Leon — a flicker of humility moving through shadows, unseen and precise.

They were fighting with everything they had.

And they weren't asking me to do the same.

They were trusting me to do the same.

That trust… it didn't feel like pressure.

It felt like a gift.

Like a hand held out, saying, "We can carry this together."

And I realized — I didn't want them to carry it all alone.

I didn't want to be protected anymore.

I didn't want to be the one they covered, the one they sheltered.

I wanted to protect them.

I wanted to be part of the light that pushed the darkness back.

⸻

So I moved.

I don't remember raising my hand, or reaching for the blade.

I only remember the feeling that bloomed in my chest.

It wasn't rage.

It wasn't courage.

It wasn't pride.

It was kindness.

Not the soft kind. Not the kind that waits patiently.

The kind that moves. That answers.

The kind that says: I will not let you carry this alone.

And in that moment — the Seraphblade came.

Like a star collapsing into my hands.

⸻

It didn't burn when I grasped it. I thought it would. That a weapon of light would sear into flesh like fire, or brand me from the inside.

But it didn't.

It… welcomed me.

It felt warm. Familiar. Like holding the hand of someone you trust deeply, someone who has always been with you, even if you'd never seen them before.

I remember how the blade sang when it fully formed — not like a cry of war, but a hymn. A note that matched the rhythm of my breath. My heart.

It didn't shout fight for glory.

It whispered stand with them.

And I did.

I stepped forward.

Not to lead.

Not to follow.

But to walk beside.

⸻

When the first tendril lashed out at me, I didn't flinch.

The Seraphblade moved before I did — or maybe we moved together.

Like it already knew what I needed.

I called the skill without knowing its name.

[Merciful Severance]

Not a slash of punishment — but a release.

The Grinshade's tendril unraveled in golden fire.

No blood. No scream of agony.

Only a hollow sound — like shame exhaled.

I kept moving.

And I didn't stop.

⸻

There was a moment — mid-battle — when I looked up and saw Leon breaking through illusions with the Cloak of the Nameless, his presence unraveling the pride of our enemies like silk.

I saw Enoch stomping across the battlefield like an angel made flesh, each footfall carving hope into the stone.

And I didn't feel less than them.

I didn't feel like a fraud.

I felt like part of something greater. Something whole.

That's when I raised my hand and called forth the Shield of Warmth.

It came like instinct.

A sphere of light, not to separate us from danger, but to gather us.

A barrier that held. That included.

That welcomed all who stood within it.

Enoch shouted a thanks I barely heard. Leon's eyes flicked to me just once — a nod, small, but full of meaning.

And I stood my ground.

Because I didn't have to be perfect.

I only had to stay.

⸻

The final strike came not from anger — but alignment.

All three of us moved like notes in a single chord.

I remember how it felt when my blade pierced the void at the center of the Grinshade Lord's chest.

It didn't shatter like a monster slain.

It sighed.

Like a lie that no longer had the strength to wear its own face.

And then it was done.

⸻

Now, here in the Garden, the blade is gone.

But I still feel it.

Not in my hand.

In my heart.

It hasn't left me.

It's just waiting.

Waiting for the moment I choose again — to stand, to protect, to belong.

⸻

I don't know if I'm a hero.

I don't think I ever will.

But I know what I am not.

I am not a mistake.

I am not a burden.

I am not alone.

⸻

From now on, when the darkness comes —

I will answer.

Not because I am brave.

But because I am not the only light.

And because I've seen what happens when we carry it together.