Third Memory.
He felt his feet touch the ground as he stepped forward, though for once his soles were near silent. Through the silence, however, he could hear a young man's voice, the boy asking another person a question. Was he intruding upon them unseen?
"...have you really forgotten me?" He sounded desperate, almost pleading.
Finally, Seraph felt himself speak. He allowed his presence to be known, arms folded over his chest. "You're wasting your time. Not only did she lose her memory, but she has lost the soul to listen to your words. Now ------- is merely a puppet standing before death's door." The name he spoke was blurred out, and he was unable to guess from the way he felt his mouth move. Of course he wouldn't be given the answers so easily.
"------!" A young boy's voice, also fuzzed. Another name? Information? The boy was shouting at him. His name?
The first boy spoke again. His voice was still harrowed, as though he was yet to understand what was happening. "Where have you been?! What are you saying?!"
Seraph let out a small breath, before speaking again. "The Chosen desired the regeneration of the world and chose this path herself. By summoning the Chosen to Derris-Kharlan, the seal will be broken, and the regeneration will be complete." Chosen... but it had said herself? Was there a relation to this Chosen and the one he knew in Edensphere?
"------?... What are you talking about?" The same boy, so lost and confused. He almost felt something akin to pity for that dazed voice. It was though everything was being crushed before his eyes.
"It's what you wanted as well," Seraph reminded the boy. "We will take the Chosen as the new body for Martel."
"What are you talking about?!" He was probably a teenager by the way he sounded, demanding information that he clearly did not have. "Answer me!"
Before he could give a proper response, the croaking voice of pained man called up to him. Up? yes... he could definitely hear that they were all speaking from below him. It seemed right, they way they stood beneath him and pleaded. The dying rasp was almost pathetic to hear. 'Lord ------, have pity on me..." he groaned out.
Lord. That was new information.
"Please.... lend me your aid."
He felt his features remain the same as ever, though he turned his head to sightlessly regard the pained voice. "Have you forgotten, Remiel?" His words faded again into the static. Why did it obliterate some words and information but not others? So curious. Perhaps these crystals were not powerful enough to unlock the truly important memories. "...Does the 'ultimate being' seek help from that which he despises most?"
With a groan, the voice quieted. Seraph assumed he was dead. Footsteps were heard, though-- Someone was approaching him?
"Move out of the way." Seraph demanded simply.
"------... Who are you?" That young boy questioned him. Again, confused. Uninformed. Unknowing. Perhaps it was best that he didn't get the answers. They seemed to be causing him such pain.
Seraph could feel a power welling up for a moment, before the semi-familiar sensation of his wings breaking forth took over him. He was sure the blue, transparent appendages were visible for those below. "I am of Cruxis, the organization that guides this world. I am one of the Four Seraphim, sent forth to keep close watch over the Chosen."
"------ is an angel too?" His sharp hearing easily picked up the young boy speaking quietly.
"You deceived us!" A woman this time, indignant. Seraph spared no time in answering her.
"Deceived? If the Chosen merges with Martel, she will awaken, and the word will be saved."
And with that the memory faded to white.
Seraph now knew what he was meant to do.