Chapter 165: The Garden of Silver Feathers

The wind above the Himalayas held a scent unfamiliar to mortals—an aroma of silver, dusted with frost, and shadowed by something older than scent itself.

Rei stood on the floating platform that overlooked the sacred garden known as Aerael's Perch, a place even the angels dared not step into unless summoned. Beside him were Mireille, Noira, and Eirenne—all cloaked, all quiet. Behind them, the horizon glimmered with unnatural auroras.

"Is this where the next spirit slumbers?" Eirenne asked.

"No," Rei replied. "It's where she waits."

A sudden whisper split the air, followed by a gust that shimmered like moonlight. Feathers—hundreds—descended like snowflakes, but each one whispered a different name.

Then, the ground before them twisted.

And from the tangle of ancient roots and broken halos emerged a figure cloaked in starlight and sorrow.

She was neither tall nor imposing. Yet she stood as if the heavens bowed beneath her feet. Hair the color of frozen dusk, eyes bandaged with veils of spirit-silk.

"Aerael," Rei whispered.

She turned her face toward him, though she could not see.

"You carry too many lights," she murmured. "And each one blinds the path ahead."

Mireille stepped forward. "We're not here to threaten you."

"Not threats. Memories," Aerael said. "He walks with memories so loud they disturb the dreamwinds."

Noira, sensing tension, subtly reached toward her blade.

Rei held up a hand. "I'm here to offer a pact."

Aerael stepped closer. The feathers thickened into a halo around her.

"A pact with the last Harrowed Angel?" she asked. "You risk unraveling yourself."

"I've done worse," Rei said with a faint smile.

---

Chorus of Sins

The garden shifted. Flowers bloomed in reverse, their petals forming faces of those Rei had saved and failed.

Aerael raised her hand. A staff of bone and starlight formed.

"You want my flame?" she asked.

"I want your pain," Rei answered.

That silenced even the spirits within him.

Aerael struck her staff into the ground.

"Then relive it."

Rei's mind was dragged through her eternity: centuries of servitude under false heavens, battles where her wings were torn and sewn shut, the betrayal of Seraphim who feared her clarity. Aerael had not fallen. She had been pushed.

And she had never stopped singing for the ones still falling.

---

A Wing That Casts No Shadow

Rei emerged from the vision, gasping.

Aerael knelt beside him.

"You didn't turn away," she said.

"I don't flinch from truth," Rei replied.

The staff dissolved. Her wings—neither black nor white, but translucent and cracked—wrapped around him.

> [Integration Request: Aerael, Harrowed Angel of the Lost Choir. Classification: Echo of Transcendence. Warning: Dual-System Conflict Risk at 22%. Proceed?]

He nodded.

> [Integration Accepted. Slot 10 Secured. Choir Resonance Active. Spiritual Limit Raised.]

As Aerael dissolved into golden threads, her final whisper lingered:

"Find the ones still singing. They are the key."

---

Elsewhere: The Seraph Court, Underworld Echo

Archangel Sandalphon crushed the goblet in his hand.

"He's found Aerael."

Beside him, Gabriel turned. "Then the veil has begun to thin."

"The sovereign system must not breach the Choirbound Law."

"We may not have a choice."

Above them, in the fractured firmament, a new constellation began to form.

One shaped like a flame-wreathed wing.