The wind tore the scream from Aiden's lungs.
Stone vanished beneath his feet, Sanctum's rooftop ripping away as if it had never existed.
The world inverted, sky below, city above, stars spinning like scattered glass.
Seraphine didn't let go.
Her grip was iron, fingers locked around his wrist as they fell, robes snapping violently, hair streaming upward like fire pulled toward heaven.
"This is not how it's supposed to end," she shouted, but the wind devoured her words.
Aiden's heart slammed against his ribs. Panic clawed at him, sharp and animal. Every instinct screamed this is it. This was the punishment. This was gravity collecting its debt.
The broken halo burned.
Not pain, recognition.
Light erupted behind his head, wild and fractured, flaring like a wound ripped open. The air thickened, bending around them. For a split second, the fall slowed, not stopped, just resisted, like the world itself hesitated.
Seraphine gasped.
"You're doing it," she breathed.
"I'm not!" Aiden yelled back.
The ground rushed up to meet them, rooftops, metal fire escapes, a blur of angles and shadows.
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut.
The impact never came.
Instead, the world tilted.
They slammed sideways into a rusted awning, metal shrieking under the force. It tore loose, dragging them with it, breaking their fall in a violent cascade, canvas ripping, bolts snapping, bodies tumbling.
Aiden hit hard.
Air punched out of his lungs. Stone scraped his back. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, anchoring him to his body.
He lay there, stunned, staring at the narrow strip of sky between buildings.
Alive.
"Aiden!"
Seraphine was beside him in seconds, hands shaking as she grabbed his shoulders, her face pale, eyes wide with something dangerously close to terror.
"Say something," she demanded.
He coughed, then laughed, breathless, hysterical.
"I think," he said hoarsely, "I just offended gravity."
She pressed her forehead to his chest, just for a second. Relief cracked through her composure before she pulled back, steadying herself.
"That wasn't flight," she said quietly. "That was instinct."
Aiden pushed himself upright, wincing. His hands trembled. Light flickered faintly around his fingers before fading.
"I didn't mean to," he said. "I just… didn't want to die."
Seraphine met his eyes.
"That's how it starts," she said. "Not with power. With refusal."
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance. Human sounds. Life continuing, ignorant and loud.
Aiden followed her gaze.
They were in the lower city now, cracked stone, flickering signs, windows glowing warm and ordinary. No bells. No hymns.
No angels watching openly from towers.
Just the world.
Seraphine helped him to his feet. "We can't stay here."
"Are they coming?" he asked.
She nodded once. "Always."
Aiden glanced back up.
Sanctum Academy loomed above them, distant and cold, its spires slicing the sky like accusations. For the first time, it looked small.
"I jumped," he said softly.
Seraphine's expression gentled.
"No," she corrected. "You chose."
Aiden took a shaky breath and turned away from the academy.
Behind them, unseen and unheard, the broken halo pulsed, alive, incomplete, and awake.
And far above, where prayers were counted and names were remembered.
The Choir began to sing.