Prologue
Far from the place I once called home, far from those I called my brothers, I witnessed a merciless self-destruction—an envy and a greed greater than I could ever conceive, and above all, an injustice.
From the Vault of Heaven were born three stars: the Morningstar, the Twilightstar, and the Nightstar. One was surrounded by white feathers ablaze with fire, another by golden feathers glowing with light, and the last by black feathers and manna.
Each had a different role, united by the same purpose: the creation of a world in which we celestials could exist in harmony and peace.
The established ranks each possessed their own heaven and a teacher as was fitting. Yet in the final Sky, the one closest to the Holy Infinite, remained the three creators of our existence: foundation, knowledge, and guidance—none other than the Primordial Stars: Lucifer, Michael, and Ravenna.
In the Ninth Heaven, Seraphiel, the Teacher of the Seraphims, claimed to stand among them and sought to claim the rights he believed were his.
Elohim Himself spoke and made him Guardian of the Throne of Light, a responsibility worthy only of the Primordials—yet in neither thought nor form was he satisfied.
The time had come. The Creator began to wage the most difficult battle in the name of the firstborn, Lucifer, to free him from the corruption of chaos.
Only the Nightstar could feel the fierce clash between light and darkness—Elohim the Creator and Imhalim the Destroyer.
Every word, every gesture, every act against her and the others brought tears to her eyes and drew her closer to the cruel truth: that she would lose the one she loved.
In the end, Lucifer rebelled. He waged war against his own kin and led others down the same path as his.
Ravenna could neither watch nor take part in this battle and instead made her way toward the Throne of Light, where Seraphiel had already taken his place.
He shielded her from the war with hollow promises, while Michael, together with the other six Archangels, led the armies of angels against the rebels of his own brother.
After the battle ended, Lucifer created Inferno—the new home of Imhalim—and remained there, imposing his new laws and isolating the Destroyer, thus gaining supreme power and the chance to restore the balance.
Millennia later, humanity appeared upon the new earth, just as the first angels had once appeared. And as their fate was written, they were deceived and tempted to taste from the Tree of Knowledge—the shameful remnant of the angels after the war. Humanity was exiled, bearing the consequences of its own actions, and thus Ravenna’s fate was sealed.
Seraphiel raised his celestial weapon against her, accusing her of betrayal and of corrupting humankind from the divine path.
He exiled her into Real Time, stripped her of her wings, and laid her to sleep for the rest of eternity within a crystal coffin.
Michael and his angels tried to fight in the name of the Nightstar, knowing the blame had unjustly fallen upon her—yet nothing swayed the decision of the new Sovereign.
″From afar, he beheld Ravenna as one would behold a sacred muse, luminous and untouchable, and he longed for her with a hunger that scorched his very being. Disappointment took root within his heart like a spear tempered in divine flame—yet even wounded, he could not cease the fire that burned for her.
The Morningstar turned away—his path lay unbarred before him. He claimed her as his own, and bound himself to her in return, yet still... she was not the one his soul truly sought.
Phantoms of thought and whispers never meant to be heard coiled around him, guiding him toward ruin:
Ravenna, the Nightstar—you shall fall.
And Ravenna wept.
Angels trembled. Archangels rose in defiance. Yet she continued to fall—slowly, helplessly—until the heavens themselves seemed to dim at her descent. Wingless, undone, wrapped in sorrow, she fell to the very end.
And still, from afar, he watched her as one watches a fading constellation—aching, yearning, undone by his own silence.
Lucifer, the Morningstar, drew a breath heavy with eternity. He fell to his knees in the hush of creation and whispered into the void:
“Ravenna... my star...
I let centuries steal you from my memory—
and the fault, the ruin, the loss... is mine alone.”
