Chapter 1: Prologue : The Fall on an Angel
The golden halls of Aetherion thrummed with a hymn that cut like a blade—sharp, cold, and devoid of grace.
The air shimmered with divine light, refracting off polished marble pillars that stretched into an endless vaulted sky.
Yet the radiance felt sterile, a mockery of warmth, as if the heavens themselves had forgotten how to feel.
Azareel knelt at the center of it all, his slender frame dwarfed by the towering silhouettes of his celestial kin.
His hands, bound by cords of searing light, trembled faintly—not from fear, but from the weight of sorrow pressing against his chest.
f.(r)eewe/bnov\ll.com
His white robe, once a symbol of purity, hung in tatters, stained with streaks of gold-flecked blood.
His long white hair, streaked with faded gold, spilled over his shoulders, tangled and damp with sweat.
His silver-gray eyes, flecked with rain-blue, glistened with unshed tears, reflecting the cold faces of those who judged him.
Around him stood his siblings—angels cloaked in radiant armor, their eyes like polished glass, their hearts as unyielding as the stone beneath their feet.
They did not look at him with pity or regret, only with the disdain reserved for something broken, something tainted.
Their voices wove a litany of condemnation, each word a lash against his already bruised spirit.
"Defiler of order," one spat, her voice a venomous melody.