Babylon — 3:02 A.M.
The sky raged in molten ribbons of gold and crimson, and the very air seemed to scream as the Seraphim descended—winged forms of impossible light and shadow, neither angels nor creatures of flesh, but something far older and purer. Their wings were not made of feathers but of flame, spinning in wheels of fire, their faces shifting with every blink.
Nathaniel dropped to his knees as the weight of their presence crashed down like an invisible ocean. Even Ezra took a step back.
"They weren't meant to come yet," Ezra whispered.
Rahim's voice was low. "The timeline is broken. You've stirred what should've slept."
One Seraph touched the ground, and the earth cracked like dry parchment. Its voice was not sound but thought.
> "The Seventh Seal trembles. The Gospel shall either close or open anew."
Nathaniel looked up through burning eyes. "Why me?"
> "Because you are the final pen. You are the scribe of choice."
Ezra stepped forward, desperate now. "No. This isn't how it ends." He pointed at Nathaniel. "You don't know what you're holding. The Thunders don't bring salvation—they bring undoing."
Nathaniel's head throbbed. The Thunders. They were still inside him—whispering, alive, waiting. He could feel their power gathering like a storm. He'd been fighting their call, trying to hold it back.
But the time had come.
The Scroll of Fire
From the air, a scroll descended. Unlike the one John of Patmos had eaten, this one pulsed—a living flame.
The Seraph intoned:
> "Eat, Scribe. Let what is sealed become known."
Nathaniel reached out, and the moment his fingers touched it, fire spilled into his chest. He didn't burn—he became bright. He stood taller, stronger, his voice rising not as his own, but as a conduit of the divine:
"And I saw the world written again, but not in ink—in blood, in ash, and in mercy."
The Seven Thunders boomed again—this time through him.
> "Rebuild."
> "Reveal."
> "Unbind."
> "The Lamb is not coming back the same."
> "The dragon has children."
> "Two cities will burn—one of man, one of memory."
> "And the Witness shall bleed truth."
The scroll vanished into dust. Nathaniel fell to one knee, breathing hard.
Ezra staggered backward. "What have you done?"
Rahim was smiling now. "He's chosen. Not silence. Not destruction. Something new."
Lucien stared, pale and awed. "You… rewrote Revelation."
Nathaniel looked at his hands. "No. I answered."
The Prophecy Splits
Above them, the cracks in the sky began to heal. But not with light. Not with darkness. With balance. The Seraphim did not sing. They waited.
Ezra shook his head. "This isn't over."
Rahim turned to him. "It is. For you."
A blinding flash. And when the light dimmed, they were all gone.
The ruins of Babylon quieted.
The stars above no longer bled.
But the world had changed.
And it wasn't done yet.