I stared at her. Everything inside me screamed to push back—to demand logic, proof, anything that made sense. But something about her voice, the stillness in her eyes, the way the air itself seemed to hush when she spoke... made me stop.
I didn't nod. Didn't agree. But I didn't interrupt.
Azuya turned, walking toward the golden table. Her fingers brushed its surface as she passed, leaving a faint ripple in the glow—like the table was water beneath light.
"Once," she said, "our worlds weren't divided. Jinn, Dwarves, Giants, and Humans—we all lived under the Divine's eye. In harmony. In purpose. Not perfect, but whole."
Tamilla stepped up beside her, adjusting her glasses. "Until the war."
Aksel snorted. "Always a war, isn't there?"
Azuya ignored him, her voice taking on a new tone—like a breeze turning cold. "The Divine gave us gifts. Insight. Elements. Wisdom. Strength. But with it came choice. And with choice... came pride."
The moment she said that... something inside me snapped. Not violently. Just—clicked.
Like a lock turning.
I wasn't hearing this for the first time.
I knew this story.
Not from books. Not from dreams. From him.
The old man. The hallway. The mint tea.
The story he wasn't supposed to tell.
My breath hitched.
I remembered the way he'd leaned back in his chair, that haunted softness in his eyes.
"Before the sky held light..."
"Giants. Dwarves. Jinn. Humans..."
"And the Tower..."
Then, almost without meaning to, I muttered under my breath:
"Afterwards... God sends prophets. They try to stop the war. They fail."
"The prophets felt helpless... asks God to separate the four peoples..."
Azuya's eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of surprise there.
"Humans remember this story?" she asked softly, almost to herself.
I nodded slowly, like the memory itself was fragile.
Azuya glanced toward Gabriel briefly, then back at me.
"Humans abandoned faith long ago," she said quietly. "We were told the story was forgotten... lost."
"an old man told it to me once," I whispered "He got killed for telling it."
Tamilla and Aksel exchanged looks. Tamilla's face grew somber, Aksel's usual grin fading.
"Among the other races," Azuya continued, "this creation story is common knowledge. Passed down through generations, through song and memory, we were surprised to know that the humans actually have choosen to forget about it"
I swallowed, the memory still tight in my throat.
"Some of us," I said quietly, "chose to remember."
Azuya looked at me for a long moment. Her expression softened—not just surprised now, but... moved.
"Then you know what comes afterwards?" she asked.
I hesitated. My voice felt smaller now, as if I were a child again, sitting on that carpet, listening to a story that could get someone killed.
"The Divine gave a test," I said quietly. "A way to choose which race was... worthy."
My eyes drifted toward the entrance—the path that had brought me here, the threshold where everything began to unravel.
"God told them to build a tower," I continued. "And the humans' tower was chosen."
Perfect setup for humor and character contrast! Here's a clean, flowing version of the scene that keeps the tone natural, a bit witty, and in-character for all three—Ousse confused, Azuya straightforward and reactive, Gabriel smugly clever:
Azuya tilted her head, staff still glowing faintly. "Well... yes and no. Here's the thing—apparently, God is a bit of a trickster."
I blinked. "Huh?"
She spread her hands slightly, as if laying out a puzzle. "From everyone's point of view, it looked like they were chosen and the others were... wiped out. Annihilated. Erased."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. "And they weren't?"
"No." Her smile was small. Almost amused. "All God did... was separate them. Each race was sent to a different realm."
"Realms?" I echoed, frowning.
Gabriel, leaning casually near the edge of the table, chimed in. "The concept of multiple dimensions might be easier to grasp."
Azuya turned to him, clearly puzzled. "Multiple what?"
Gabriel didn't even blink. "It's a complicated subject."
Her brows furrowed deeper. "It's a complicated subject but easier to understand than realms?"
"It actually is!" I said
He shrugged, all calm arrogance. "Humans."
Azuya blinked at Gabriel's smugness, then gave a light laugh. "Fascinating."
She turned back to me, the shimmer in her eyes returning. "So now you get it, right? All the other races—Jinn, Dwarves, Giants—they still exist. They were never destroyed."
I stared at her, trying to wrap my head around it.
She stepped closer, gesturing to herself with a graceful hand. "I'm a Jinn."
Then nodded toward the twins. "Tamilla and Aksel here? They're Dwarves."
Aksel gave a little mock bow. Tamilla adjusted her glasses, saying nothing.
"And what you saw earlier," Azuya added, "was their gift. Dwarves can shapeshift into any animal they've actually seen—real, living creatures. Not legends. Not guesses. Memory-based transformation."
I glanced between the two weasels-turned-people, then back at her.
"Wait," I said slowly, "so that wasn't magic... it was them?"
Aksel grinned. "You were surprisingly comfy for someone who claims to hate fleas."
Azuya's smile widened. "And you wanna see something cool?"
I blinked. "There's more?"
Before I could brace myself, the air around my feet shifted—lifted. My body rose like a leaf caught in a wind I couldn't feel. I yelped, arms flailing, boots dangling uselessly a few feet off the ground.
"What the—?!"
Azuya laughed softly, rising into the air beside me, standing as if the wind itself obeyed her feet. Her long silver hair drifted around her like silk in water, caught in currents I couldn't see.
"I control the air," she said, effortlessly hovering beside me. "Well... some of it. Depends on the mood."
I stared at her, suspended midair, completely unarmed against gravity and logic. "Okay... that is cool."
Aksel whooped from below. "Drop him! Bet he bounces!"
Tamilla groaned, "Don't encourage her."
Azuya chuckled and gently guided the air downward. I floated like a feather, then landed softly on my feet.
I stumbled once—barely—but caught myself.
"Wow," I breathed. "So this is real. All of this is real." I looked at them—at her, at the twins. "And you guys can do these amazing things. Humans really… fall short compared to you."
Tamilla stepped forward, adjusting her glasses. "Actually, every race was blessed by the Divine. And humans are no exception. From what we were told, you possess something none of us have to the same degree—wisdom. Intelligence. The ability to question."
I scratched my head, eyebrows raised. "I don't know about all that. I don't feel any smarter than you guys."
Aksel grinned, his amber eyes twinkling. "Yeah, mate—actually kinda slow, if we're bein' honest."
His accent was thick and lilting, like some wild mix between a tavern brawler and a traveling bard. I frowned.
"Thanks, I guess?"
Tamilla sighed. "Ignore him. He thinks sarcasm counts as communication."
"It does!" Aksel said, feigning offense.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, almost amused. "Dear Ousse, we mentioned earlier the concept of multiple dimensions. Could you explain it to the group?"
I blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you," he said, gesturing with his hand like a stage director prompting an actor. "Give it a try."
I scratched the back of my neck. "I don't know if I can. All I've got is, like… surface-level knowledge."
"Then surface it," he said smoothly.
I sighed, then took a breath. "Alright, um… It's a theory. That there are, like, multiple realities. Not just this one. Some are similar to ours, some are completely different. And—uh—some people believe they're shaped by… by choices. Possibilities."
I was picking up speed now. "Actually—wait, no, I think I'm mixing it with multiple timelines. That's the one where time fractures and makes alternate paths depending on our decisions. Like the butterfly effect—where a butterfly flaps its wings on one side of the world, and somehow that leads to a tornado somewhere else."
I stopped. The air felt thick.
Everyone was staring at me.
Tamilla's mouth was slightly open, Azuya's eyebrows had climbed nearly to her hairline, and Aksel just blinked—slow and stunned.
Only Gabriel looked normal. Unbothered. Almost smug.
"…What?" I asked.
Tamilla tilted her head. "You understood that?"
Azuya leaned closer, as if I were a newly discovered creature. "That was… incredibly confusing, but kind of amazing."
"Right?" Aksel whispered. "Sounded like prophecy."
Gabriel simply folded his hands and said, "Thank you, Ousse. That's... more than sufficient."
I shrugged, half-embarrassed. "Honestly, I was just rambling."
Tamilla muttered, "Humans are terrifying."
Gabriel stood with one hand resting on the table, his voice lowering—not in volume, but in weight. The joking tone he usually wore fell away like a mask. The golden glow of the hall seemed dimmer now, like it, too, was listening.
"Since you've remembered the creation," he said, "you might as well know the rest. The part no one tells. The forbidden one."
Everyone went quiet—even Aksel. Azuya's smile faded.
Gabriel looked at me. "After the Divine separated the four peoples—Jinn, Dwarves, Giants, and Humans—He rewarded those who stood together until the end. The prophets. The four who begged for peace instead of vengeance. He raised them to the heavens, to dwell beside Him. A gift. A thank you."
"They lived without hunger. Without pain. Without fear." He paused. "But not without envy."
A silence rippled across the table.
"One of them," Gabriel continued, "never found peace. The Jinn prophet. The one born of fire. His name was Lucifer."
A sharp chill passed through me, though no wind moved.
"He was brilliant. Ambitious. Always burning brighter than the others. But he had one flaw: he could not bear to be second. Especially not to Abraham."
He looked at me.
"The human prophet," he clarified. "The one the Divine always seemed to favor. Not for power. Not for strength. But for... curiosity. Abraham asked questions. Hard ones. He wrestled with doubt and wonder alike. And the Divine welcomed him like a son."
Gabriel's lips curled slightly—not a smile, but something close. "That," he said, "infuriated Lucifer."
"He wandered Heaven like a ghost, haunted by the sight of Abraham at the Divine's side. Until one day, he slipped into a place no one dared enter: the Forbidden Library."
"It holds the deepest truths," Gabriel said. "The blueprints of creation. Language older than stars. Lucifer couldn't understand most of it. It nearly broke him."
"But one book... spoke to him. The Book of Heaven's Laws. A manual. Rules written not for mortals—but for angels."
Gabriel's fingers traced a line along the golden table.
"There, Lucifer found a law almost forgotten. A safeguard: 'Whosoever slays another in the realm of Heaven shall inherit their role and power.' A rule never needed. Never used."
He looked directly at my eyes now.
"But Lucifer saw opportunity. If he killed Abraham himself, the Divine's wrath would be instant. So he devised a plan. A loophole."
"He approached Kael—the Giant Prophet. A quiet, loyal soul. Strong, but easily swayed. No one knows what Lucifer told him. Only that it worked."
"Kael killed Abraham."
I flinched. The name Abraham felt suddenly too human. Too close.
Gabriel continued. "But someone saw. The Dwarf Prophet—Yarikha. Gentle, clever, devoted. He confronted Kael in horror. Kael, panicked, struck him down too."
Tamilla lowered her eyes. Aksel looked away.
"And then Lucifer stepped forward," Gabriel said. "With cold precision, he killed Kael—invoking the law. Three prophets fell. One remained."
Gabriel paused.
"That's when Sorael descended. The angel assigned to Lucifer. One of the Divine's oldest watchers. Silent. Patient. Always there, though no one saw him."
"He stood before Lucifer and said: 'I saw what you did. The lie behind the act. The plan behind the blood. You think Heaven is blind, Lucifer. But you never saw me.'"
I whispered, "What happened?"
Gabriel's voice dropped lower.
"Lucifer killed him."
"He killed an angel. In Heaven. And by Heaven's law... he inherited his power."
"And then?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"He ran," Gabriel said. "Through fire. Through light. Through cracks in creation itself. He tore open the seams of Heaven and fled to his world. The Realm of jinn. Where angels could not follow."
"He knew the heavens would hunt him. But the law bound them. So they let him go."
I asked "And now?"
Gabriel fell silent.
For a moment, no one spoke. The hall felt heavier somehow—like the air itself was holding its breath.
Then, Gabriel slowly turned to Azuya. "You were there," he said quietly.
Azuya met his eyes. Nodded once. Then turned to me.
"it was a night a night my peaple couldn't forget," she said. "even if they wanted to."
Her voice was softer now—not cheerful or curious like before, but full of something older. Grief. Memory. Reverence.
"The sky lit up," she continued. "Not like lightning. Not like fire. It was… constant. Blinding. Like a second sun had risen in the dead of night."
Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, like she could still see it. "But it wasn't the sun. It was a flame—a star—falling. Screaming through the sky. It hit the mountain near our border. Carved itself into the stone like a blade."
She paused. "We thought it was a meteor. A miracle. My people rushed to the site, thinking we'd find a shard of heaven. And in a way... we did."
Her eyes met mine again.
"They found him. Lucifer."
I stiffened.
"He was alive. Untouched. Asleep, but breathing. Glowing with power that felt too old to name. My people thought it was a blessing. That after two hundred years, the Holy Prophet had returned to guide us. That the Divine had sent him back to bring enlightenment."
Her voice lowered.
"And for a while… it felt true. Life went on. He was distant, but wise. Strange, but strong. His presence alone stopped conflicts. People listened."
She hesitated.
"But over time… something changed. Not all at once. Slowly. Quietly. The balance shifted. A hierarchy formed—subtle at first, then obvious. At the top stood Lucifer. And just beneath him… his tribesmen. His loyalists."
Tamilla crossed her arms. Aksel muttered something under his breath.
"Not every tribe accepted that," Azuya said. "Not everyone bowed."
"And then came the war."
Her tone hardened. "At first it was whispers. Disputes. Protests. Then fire. Then screams. What followed lasted two thousand years. Two thousand years where all my people knew was war."
She looked down. "Every generation was born into it. Every generation died in it. The Jinn forgot what peace felt like."
I swallowed, throat dry.
"But then…" Azuya continued, voice gentling again, "there was a girl. A believer. Her tribe lived near the Tower—our last sacred site. A place forbidden to all except prophets… or so we were told."
"She was just a girl. No name written in any scroll. No power in her blood. But she was brave. Or maybe just desperate."
"She climbed the tower."
My eyes widened. Even the twins stilled.
"She reached the top," Azuya said. "And she prayed. She begged. Not for revenge. Not even for victory. She prayed for peace. For God to help her people. To see them."
Azuya took a breath, her voice trembling slightly.
"And He did."
A beat passed.
Then Gabriel stepped forward again, finishing the thought with quiet finality:
"He sent me."
Gabriel looked at Azuya for a beat, then back at me. His voice was quieter now—steadier. No theatrics. Just truth.
"That's when I met her," he said. "Azuya."
He let the name settle.
"I was sent to that place with a message. One I didn't write. One I didn't question."
He nodded toward her. "She was the one meant to hear it. The one it was meant for."
His gaze shifted, touching each of us in turn. Not grand, not dramatic—just certain.
"And just like her, the rest of you were chosen. Not by accident. Not by mistake."
Then he looked at me again.
"You're here because you were meant to be."
Gabriel's gaze turned to me, steady and eternal, like the sun watching over the earth.
"So now I deliver the message to you, O Prophet of Mankind."
His words did not echo—but the silence around them made it feel as if all creation paused to listen.
"You have been chosen by the Divine—not for your strength, but for your soul. To bear the burden of His will. To rise where others have fallen. To stand against the fallen flame… and to break the chains that bind his people."
The air thickened with something ancient—weightless yet pressing.
"And now, with all prophets present and accounted for," his voice rang with solemn majesty, "I unveil the prophecy long sealed in silence."
He raised his hand, and for a moment it felt as if light itself bowed.
"The worlds that were once torn apart… shall be made whole again. As it was in the beginning—so shall it be once more."
A moment of silence and confusion filled the room
Aksel blinked. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean? Tamilla?"
Tamilla pushed her glasses up. "I think it means that—"
"I—uh, hold on," I cut in, lifting a hand. "Sorry, Gabriel, just... let me make sure I heard you right." My voice felt a bit too loud in the golden silence. "You're saying I'm supposed to fight Lucifer? Free the Jinn? On behalf of God?"
Gabriel didn't flinch. "That is the simplified version, yes."
I stared at him. My mouth was dry. "And you're absolutely sure there's no mistake? Like—you checked? Triple-checked? Maybe I was just standing too close to the actual chosen one and got tagged by accident?"
Gabriel tilted his head. "You are the one. There is no mistake."
I laughed.
Just a little. At first. A sharp breath through my nose. Then a twitch at the corner of my mouth. And then—
Then it burst out of me.
I laughed louder. Then louder. A real, full-bodied laugh that didn't even sound like it belonged to me. I bent forward, clutching my stomach, the sound echoing off the golden walls like something unhinged.
"Free the Jinn," I gasped. "Fight for God?! Me?!"
I couldn't stop. I laughed like someone slipping on ice, like a wheel spinning out of control. Tears pressed at the corners of my eyes—not from joy. From something else.
I tried to speak but choked on the words. I could barely breathe. The room spun just a little, too much light, too much pressure, too many truths smashing against everything I thought was real.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody stopped me.
Even Aksel stayed silent.
And still—Gabriel just watched. Calm. Still. Like he'd seen this before.
I laughed until my legs felt weak.
Until the silence caught up to me.
Until the weight of the moment finally landed.
And then—
I stopped.
I took a shaky breath and said aloud, my voice echoing in the quiet hall.
"I don't know if this is a dream or reality, but I'm about seventy percent sure it's real. Either way, I'll treat it as such. So, you're telling me to fight for God? The same God I prayed to all my life? The one the old man died for believing in? The God I begged to keep my grandma alive, but who never answered? The God I pleaded with for help, but never granted me a thing? And now, He asks me for something?"
I locked eyes with Gabriel. "Do you even know why I climbed the tower?"
He stayed silent, waiting.
"All I know is what I'm allowed to," he said.
"No," I said, voice low but fierce. "I climbed the tower to jump. To fall. To end the pain."
I looked away, swallowing hard. "So, if you'll excuse me, I have something to do."
I turned away from the golden hall, each step hollow against the stone floor. The warm light faded behind me, swallowed by the thick night. Outside, the sky was an endless stretch of black, stitched with cold, distant stars.
The corridor I'd come down stretched ahead—silent, ancient, heavy with shadows and secrets. The air was sharp and biting, like it carried every unspoken doubt I'd ever held.
My heart thundered in my chest, louder than the stillness around me. Thoughts spun wildly — the old man's stories, my grandmother's fading smile, prayers unanswered, and now this impossible mission thrust upon me.
At last, I reached the tower's edge. Below, the world lay quiet — a patchwork of tiny lights, blurred and unreachable. The cold night wind whipped around me, tugging at my clothes, whispering promises of release.
I stepped closer. The dizzying height stretched before me, a void beckoning.
My breath caught. The world felt fragile — and so did I.
For a long moment, I stood on the brink, the darkness below waiting.
Then, I closed my eyes, ready to fall.
I took one last step toward the ledge. The wind howled against my ears now, louder than the thoughts in my head. I leaned forward slightly, ready to let gravity finish what life had started.
Then—
"Umm... Ousse?" Azuya's voice floated from behind me, hesitant but calm, like she didn't want to startle a stray animal.
I didn't turn around. "What do you think?" I said. "I came up here for a reason. I'm not into all that prophecy BS." I paused, my voice softening. "Sorry, Azuya. Really. I hope your people find peace."
And with that, I stepped forward.
The air swallowed me whole.
Wind roared past my ears, my body plunging through the night, freefalling through silence and starlight. My heart didn't race. It steadied—like something inside me had finally gone quiet.
From somewhere above, I faintly heard voices—
Aksel's: "Didn't someone tell him?!"
And Azuya's, just before I vanished beneath the clouds:
"He's gonna find out the hard way.