Lang learned that day: godhood wasn't the pinnacle of power.
There was a hierarchy—ancient, immutable.
Old laws shaped the paths gods could walk. New deities were bound by them, kept from altering the weave of the universe.
Any god who defied those rules would be judged by the Celestial Council. And if found guilty, denounced—stripped of title and soul, fed to those who remained loyal.
But Destiny wasn't a god.
They were the natural laws, the forces that moved stars and rewrote aeons. They weren't a being, but a will—a current. Mortals fell under its domain. Gods, once ascended, fell outside it.
Yet it was forbidden to interfere with a mortal's Mandate—who they were, what they would become, the fate they were born with.
From the very first moment Zaruki laid eyes on Lang, the universe told him two things: this was his fated lover… but his fated lover would suffer by his side.
It was a cruel paradox.
