The capital of Altherion is a city of light, built of celestial stone and ancient magic. But for Verchiel, this city is the place where his wings were first plucked. The place where his five brothers grew up as symbols of glory and glory, while he... was hidden. Forgotten. Shunned from everything, even their own family name.
In the central palace, on the Throne of Light, sits the man who embodies everything Verchiel inherited—and tried to forget.
Emperor Jasper Cael Allemanus
A cruel god of war in the eyes of the people, yet—somehow—a father who never truly rejected his children. Including Verchiel.
The Divine Family: The Five Sky Brothers
Verchiel is the fifth child, the youngest of the main bloodline of the Emperor.
Kaelthorn (Eldest): Crown Prince of the Empire. Strong, proud, and tactful.
Liraeth (Second): The youngest mage to master the Cosmic Elements.
Zeiron (Third): Commander of the Sky Knights. He hates Verchiel the most.
Elwynn (Fourth): The only one who secretly sent letters to Verchiel, the sincere and quiet sister.
Verchiel (Fifth): Who fell, was banished, and is now back in the shadows.
All of Verchiel's siblings grew up in the light. But Verchiel was born from too much light—and so he was burned and fell.
He was once the highest angel, but after a betrayal in Heaven, he was killed and cast down to the mortal world by his own comrades. The Emperor secretly rescued him, but hid him from the world—and even from his own family
The main palace remained unchanged: cold, symmetrical, perfect.
"You came," the Emperor said without looking at Verchiel.
"Because you summoned me," Verchiel replied flatly.
They stood face to face. Two forces bound by blood, but not by love. Verchiel's eyes radiated a cold calm; his father's were as sharp as the light of the setting sun.
"The seven fragments have awakened," the Emperor said, unrolling a luminous map in the air. "And you are the only one who can unite them."
Verchiel fell silent.
"Why now?" he asked. "Why, after all this, do you want me—your outcast son—to bring back my power?"
The Emperor stared at him, then answered quietly:
"Because the world does not believe in gods who appear from the sky... but it believes in humans who rise from the dust. You... are the only one who can be both."
In the palace's rear garden, among the Solvia flowers that bloom only during the new moon, a woman waited. Her hair was white as snow, her eyes like the spring sky.
Arcelle
Verchiel's mother.
The only light that never left him.
"Verchiel," she said softly, cradling him as if he were a child. "You've grown strong... though I know your strength doesn't come from magic."
"It comes from wounds," Verchiel replied softly.
He gave her a crystal pendant shaped like a teardrop.
"This will help you when you doubt whether you're still worthy of living as a human."
That night, Verchiel met Zeiron, his third brother, in the quiet hallways of the palace.
"You should have died," Zeiron said emotionlessly. "You are not part of this family."
"I never wanted to return," Verchiel replied.
"Good. Because if you had returned with nothing... I would have ended you myself."
Dawn touched the Imperium as Verchiel walked toward the eastern gate. He carried three things:
An ancient teleportation ring from Chancellor Karthes
A pendant from his mother
And a map marking a single location: the Ruins of Debir.
His goal was clear—the Inkless Map, the key to the seven Fragment Sites. But Verchiel knew: what he sought was more than a weapon.
He sought his own slain self.
And on the horizon, a faint light began to stir—the Dark Monarchs realized that the Light had returned to the world