Prologue – The Sky That Burned
The sky had been bleeding for a thousand years.
Once, there had been stars—soft, silver lanterns strung across the heavens like promises. Now, there was only fire. Rivers of molten light split the firmament in two as angels and devils clashed, their screams echoing through realms both mortal and divine.
The war had no name, for it had outlived memory. No one recalled who struck the first blow, or why the Creator allowed it to endure. It was all most of them had ever known: feathers blackened by ash, horns shattered against halos, the earth below crumbling under the weight of their hatred.
In the midst of it all soared Azrael.
Wings of argent light cut through the darkness, his blade a sun in his hand. He was Heaven’s perfect soldier—merciless, unyielding, and yet… restless. Each strike against his enemies came easier than the last, but with every drop of blood spilled, something inside him twisted tighter.
We are righteous, he told himself, as he plunged his sword into another devil. We are just.
But in the deepest corners of his heart, a question festered like a wound: If this is righteousness, why does it feel like ruin?
Far below, in the churning rivers of Hellfire, Lilith watched the war from her obsidian throne. Her scythe rested at her side, its blade slick with celestial blood. She had been born for this conflict—sculpted by flame and shadow to lead Hell’s armies against their enemies.
And yet, victory tasted like ash.
“Why do we fight?” she asked the empty darkness one night. But the darkness gave no answer, only a hollow silence that felt all too familiar.
Neither angel nor devil knew their paths were about to cross.
Neither suspected that in a war designed to consume all love, they would find it—fragile, forbidden, and more dangerous than any blade.
For when a spark ignites between Heaven and Hell, the flames threaten to devour the world.
