Chapter One – The Saintess and the Sword
The bells of the Celestial Sanctuary tolled, their melody light and divine—yet Seraphina Elorei's heart pounded with a growing weight, like a storm hidden beneath a clear sky.
She stood at the edge of ascension, bathed in golden light, surrounded by the Seven Archpriests and thousands of chanting disciples. Clad in white robes embroidered with stardust thread, she should have felt peace. Glory. Completion.
But something was wrong.
A flicker of hesitation in the Archpriests' voices. The sudden chill in the divine light. The way her sister, Lyra, stared from the crowd below—not with joy, but with triumph.
And then she saw him.
Caelum Virelith.
Her betrothed. Her beloved.
Chosen Sword of the Celestial Realm.
He walked toward her slowly, clad in golden armor that shimmered like firelight. In his hands, he carried Judgement, the holy blade forged by the heavens themselves.
"Seraphina Elorei," Caelum said, his voice echoing through the sanctuary. "You are accused of betrayal against the Celestial Order. Consorting with forbidden forces. Attempting to steal divinity that is not yours."
Silence fell.
Her heart dropped.
"...What?" Her voice was small. It didn't sound like her own. "Caelum, this is madness. What are you saying?"
He didn't look away. His jaw was set, his eyes unreadable.
"You stand trial before the gods."
Gasps echoed from the congregation. The Archpriests stepped back. Even the divine light dimmed.
Seraphina staggered. "There must be a mistake. Lyra—she—she was the one who—"
"I saw it," Lyra called sweetly from below, hands clasped like a devout sister. "I begged her to stop. She wanted power beyond what the gods allowed. She tried to take it by force."
Seraphina stared at her sister. The same girl she had shielded during war. The same girl she had lifted to the temples when Lyra couldn't walk. And now…
Now she was smiling.
This can't be happening.
She turned to Caelum, desperate. "You don't believe this. You know me."
He hesitated.
Just for a heartbeat.
And then—he raised the sword.
"In the name of the Light, you are stripped of your title, your divinity, and your mortal rights."
"No…"
"You are sentenced to purification by holy fire."
"Caelum, no—please—look at me—"
He couldn't.
Because deep down, she saw it: he knew the truth.
But he chose Lyra anyway.
The flames came fast.
They surged from the sacred runes at her feet, white-hot and devouring. The pain wasn't just physical—it tore at her soul, ripped through her core, unraveling everything she had once been.
And as the light consumed her, and her screams echoed through the heavens, no god answered.
No one came.
Until darkness did.
"How pitiful. A soul so bright… wasted by fools."
"I'll give you a choice, Saintess. Die a martyr of Heaven… or live as the Queen of Hell."