Chapter 23: The Island Without Name
Zion was burning.
Not with fire from rebels, but from within.
The Ecclesia towers had turned their weapons inward. The purge had begun. Every orphanage that once trained flamebearers now stood locked. Every sealed vault once guarded now silenced. And above the city, Lior stood before a great machine built in secret.
It was called the Final Choir.
He raised one hand.
Begin the hymn.
The machine responded in a voice that was neither human nor holy. A sound designed to erase flame.
Below, far from the city, a boat sliced across ancient waters.
Abraham sat at the front, wind pressing into his face. Saral stood beside him, holding the Ark wrapped in white cloth. Behind them, Reuel guided the vessel.
The island they approached did not appear on maps. It had no name. No flag. It was called only by the faithful as the Root.
This is where the Tree first grew, Reuel said.
Not in Zion?
Zion was built on its corpse. This is where it lived.
The Ark glowed faintly, reacting to the soil even from the shore.
As they stepped onto the beach, the ground trembled.
Saral fell to her knees.
It's here.
Abraham looked around.
The island was quiet. Covered in mist. But beneath the moss and silence, he could feel it too.
Like a heartbeat under stone.
They walked into the center of the island, where the ruins of an old temple lay half-buried in vines. Seven pillars once stood there, but one was shattered.
The Seventh Seal.
It was not broken. It was removed.
Saral placed the Ark on the altar.
The wind stopped.
Reuel stepped back.
This is where I leave you.
Why? Abraham asked.
Because this part is not mine to walk.
He turned away.
You must go alone.
Abraham and Saral stepped forward.
The altar shifted.
Not down. Not up.
Inward.
They were pulled not into stone, but into memory.
A vision opened.
The planting of the Tree.
Thousands of years ago.
A single hand placing a golden seed into ash-covered soil. The seed glowing, reacting not to the world—but to love.
The voice spoke again.
You are not the Seventh Seal.
You are the soil.
The Tree will rise again only if you choose not to control it.
Abraham looked at Saral.
So what do we do?
She touched his chest.
We let it grow.
Suddenly, light burst from the altar.
The island shook.
The tree roots beneath their feet stirred, reaching upward.
But before they could rise—
A blast shattered the air.
A black aircraft appeared above.
Lior had found them.
The Choir was coming.
The Church would not let the Tree return.
Not without a final war.
End of Chapter 23