The scene unfolds in Cornerstone Church, where dim candlelight dances by the altar. Graves stands alone, his fingers brushing a crack along the pulpit’s edge.

“They’re coming—three of them. Eclipse. The Night. Sunshine. Each clinging to a name they think carries weight.”

{He breathes out, slow and heavy. His voice is low, measured like a scripture being spoken, not shouted.}

“Eclipse walks like the future belongs to her. Like her clarity is prophecy. But prophecy without obedience is just ambition in disguise. She’s not seeing what’s ahead—she’s hallucinating.”

{Graves walks down the aisle, slow and unbothered. His boots crack the dust that’s settled where no congregation dares sit.}

“The Night believes stillness is strength. That the absence of voice gives him presence. But silence is not holiness. It’s cowardice dressed in shadow. You don’t become divine by hiding in the dark.”

{He stops beside a broken pew. Picks up a splintered hymnal, flipping it open. Most of the pages are gone. He doesn’t look down.}

“And Mister Sunshine… you’ve mistaken warmth for worth. You believe laughter is light, and light is salvation. But joy without truth is poison. And you… you’ve been smiling through a sickness for far too long.”

{Graves lets the book fall to the floor. The thud echoes through the chamber.}

“You all walk into Warzone hoping to define yourselves.”

{He walks back toward the altar. Graves stands before it again. Hands resting on the pulpit.}

“But I don’t step into that ring for definition. I don’t rise for recognition. I was placed.”

{His tone darkens not louder, just heavier.}

“You’re not standing beside me. You’re standing on me. I’m the rock under Arcadia’s shattered columns, the unyielding base holding up every blaze, every uprising, and every shaky breath Arcadia lets out.”

{He looks to the roof soot-stained, fractured, but never fallen.}

“This isn’t light and shadow colliding.”

{His gaze steady and unblinking}

“This is weight. This is judgment. This is the unmoved presence in a city that forgot what truth feels like underfoot.”

{Graves steps back from the altar. The flame flickers behind him, barely holding on.}

“At Warzone, you don’t fall because I strike you down. You fall because you weren’t built to stand where I’ve already been standing.”

{He turns his back. Begins walking down the aisle.}

“When the walls groan, when the ring cracks, when the people look for someone who hasn’t flinched”

{Graves reaches the doors and stops.}

“They’ll realize the ground never gave way.”

{He leaves without a sound. The door swings shut behind him. The candle remains. The church does not fall.