The wind changed as soon as Abraham crossed the ancient stone gate.
The Ruins of Giveth lay silent before him — overgrown pillars, shattered temples, and broken altars scattered across cracked ground like the bones of a fallen kingdom. An eerie light fell over the place, not from the sun, but from something hidden in the mist above.
He clutched the sword on his back. Each step echoed across the marble dust.
No birds. No insects. No life.
Only echoes.
Somewhere in these ruins waited a creature once called holy — now cursed by sorrow and rage.
The **Pale Serpent**.
The priest's warning echoed in his mind.
It was once an angel… twisted by grief. It does not speak with words. It tempts. It mourns. It devours.
Abraham walked deeper into the ruin's heart. Every breath felt heavier.
The vines along the stone began to move.
He froze.
A long, white body slithered down from one of the broken arches above him. It moved without sound — smooth, elegant, unnatural.
The creature landed on the stones ahead.
Its body was serpentine, glowing faintly, covered in white scales like polished ivory. Long, feathery wings extended from its back — but they were torn, stained. Its face had no eyes, only a smooth surface like porcelain, and where its mouth should be, a single black slit slowly opened.
It hissed.
Abraham didn't draw his blade.
Not yet.
The Pale Serpent tilted its head.
A whisper entered his thoughts.
Why do you come here, bearer of the light?
He didn't answer.
The whisper grew louder, more feminine.
You carry sorrow. Grief. Love. And still, you bring a blade.
He reached for the sword.
I know why you came, the voice said, soft like a lullaby. You came for her. The woman with the heart of heaven. Sarah.
His eyes narrowed.
Show yourself, he said aloud.
I am already here.
The Pale Serpent raised its head — and with it, the atmosphere shifted. The ruins trembled. The light dimmed.
I was once like her, it said. Once chosen. Once pure. Once in love.
The serpent slithered slowly around him, its body circling.
But I was left behind. Forgotten. My promise was broken.
Abraham clenched his fists.
You don't know her.
I know her better than you do, the voice replied. I felt her soul before you ever touched her hand.
A sharp pulse of rage cracked in Abraham's chest.
He drew the sword.
Then you know what I'll do to anything that touches her.
The blade shimmered, burning with golden light.
The Pale Serpent stopped moving.
So… it is you. The husband who would fight heaven and hell.
Its wings expanded fully.
Then show me what your love is worth.
It lunged.
Abraham ducked as the serpent's tail swung across the stone, smashing a pillar into dust. He rolled sideways, raised the blade, and struck — but the serpent coiled away like smoke.
It moved too fast.
Too fluid.
The blade scraped only air.
The serpent reared back and slammed into him. The force sent him flying into the wall of a shattered temple.
He gasped, bones aching.
The voice returned.
She will forget you, the serpent said. Time will pass. They will change her. She will wear the uniform of the enemy. She will smile… and not remember your name.
Abraham stood again, blood running from his brow.
Then I'll remind her.
He raised the blade again.
I'll remind her what love looked like — with every demon I cut down.
The serpent roared and rushed again.
This time, Abraham waited.
At the last second, he stepped forward.
The sword gleamed and met the serpent's body head-on.
A wave of light exploded.
The creature screamed — a sound like metal being torn in half.
Its porcelain mask cracked.
And behind it… a face.
A woman's face.
Pale, mournful, beautiful — but hollow. Eyes full of tears that never dried.
Do you hate me? she whispered.
Abraham lowered the blade.
No, he said. I pity you.
The mask shattered.
The serpent howled and burst into light, wings spreading like dying stars, then fading to ash.
Silence returned to the ruins.
Abraham dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
He had won.
Not because he had fought hardest — but because he had **remembered who he was fighting for**.
A voice spoke from above.
You passed.
He turned.
The priest stood on the broken arch, robes moving with the wind.
You didn't kill out of anger. You fought with purpose. You showed mercy when pain called for vengeance.
The priest floated down and placed his hand on Abraham's shoulder.
You are not just learning to fight, Abraham. You are learning to love like Heaven does.
Abraham wiped the blood from his face.
Then teach me more.
The priest nodded.
Because ahead of you lies something worse than demons.
He paused.
Man.
---
End of Chapter 3