The Caelum Grandiose stood at the highest point of the Nine Heavens. It was a structure formed from condensed spirit clouds and ancient, refined gold, floating silently above the world. Huge pillars carved with the patterns of divine beasts supported a roof that touched the stars.
A thick mist of spiritual energy drifted across the floor, which was made of polished white jade. The surface was so clear that it reflected the swirling galaxies beneath it.
In the center of the hall, twenty massive thrones were arranged in a perfect circle.
Each throne was occupied. The figures sitting there did not look like mortals; they were tall, glowing with different colors of divine light, and their eyes held the stillness of a thousand years. Some sat with their hands on the armrests of fire-carved seats, while others leaned back against thrones made of cold, silver moonlight.
There was no wind in this place. No sound of footsteps. Only the faint hum of power vibrating through the jade floor. For five centuries, this hall had remained in total silence. The twenty Gods sat like statues, their gazes fixed on the center of the circle, where the spiritual balance of the universe was maintained.
The Gods sat on their high thrones, looking at the center of the hall. This was a meeting about the internal rules of the Heavens. They were focused on the Cave of the Bastion, the prison where they kept those who broke the divine laws.
Aethalguard Malphas leaned forward, his metal chest humming. "The system of the Bastion is what keeps us pure," he said. "When a soul commits a crime against our order, they are sent to the Cave. It is a place of cold and silence. That is their punishment. But we are not monsters; we are high-level administrators. Once they have stayed there and paid for their bad things, their debt is paid."
Zen-Thul stood over the Great Ledger. He did not pick it up. He just looked at the cover. "Every name in here has a number," Zen-Thul said. "That number is the weight of their bad deeds. After 200 years, the math shows they are at zero. To keep our Heavens perfect, we must follow our own laws. We must let them out."
"Some of them were violent," Vorosh added, his eyes glowing like embers. "They tried to change the way we run this palace. But the punishment has broken them. Two hundred years of the Bastion's pressure is enough to make any rebel forget why they fought in the first place."
Ishtaros tapped her throne, her lightning hair crackling. "Exactly. If we keep them longer, it creates a mess in the records. We must release them to maintain the flow.
"The Cave needs to be emptied so it can be used for the next group of law-breakers. It is a cycle of justice that never stops. We sign the book the doors open, and the Heavens remain clean."
The Gods spent a long time discussing the details. They talked about the specific crimes and why the 200-year sentence was the perfect amount of time to wash away the sins. They felt proud of their work. They treated the prisoners like numbers in a ledger, not like living beings.
"The law is clear," Eos-Mina said softly. "A debt paid is a debt gone. We are the masters of this realm, and a master must be fair to his own rules."
Zen-Thul finally opened the heavy book. The pages were thick and clean. He took a glowing gold pen and began to draw long, straight lines through the list of numbers. He worked slowly, making sure every single prisoner who had finished their time was marked.
Number 771... Marked for release.
Number 884... Marked for release.
Number 1002... Marked for release.
He went through hundreds of pages. The other Gods watched, nodding as the gold ink covered the old records. They talked about how quiet the palace would be once the "bad ones" were cleared out of the Cave.
"It is done," Zen-Thul said, his many eyes blinking in unison. He slammed the book shut with a loud boom that echoed off the jade pillars.
[City of Oakhaven]
In the world, the rain poured heavily over the city of Oakhaven. The air was thick with the smell of wet ground and iron. Hidden in the deep shadows of a narrow alleyway, a girl named Azera stood perfectly still. She wore a suit of dark armor covered by a heavy, tattered hood that hid her face from the flickering streetlights.
Azera sat on a crate, her fingers moving with practiced speed as she played with a small, serrated knife. The blade spun between her knuckles, catching the faint light with every turn. Behind her, dozens of soldiers stood in the darkness. They were all dressed like her—hooded figures in reinforced armor. On their leather armguards, a silver symbol was burned into the material: a Vertical Eye pierced by a Spear, the mark of the Palace of the Iron Aegis.
"Let's go," Azera said. Her voice was flat, showing no emotion.
She stood up straight, the metal plates of her armor clicking softly. At her command, the soldiers moved out of the shadows. They moved like a single shadow, their boots splashing in the puddles.
A man appeared at the end of the alley. He was running as fast as he could, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to escape through the rain. He didn't see the movement in the dark.
With a flick of her wrist, Azera sent the knife flying through the air. The blade hissed through the rain and sliced across the man's cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. The force of the strike made the man stumble and stop. Before he could turn to run again, Azera launched herself forward, jumping through the air toward him and kicking him hard into the ground.
The man hit the mud with a heavy thud. As he scrambled to get up, he immediately made a symbol with his hands. A pulse of blue light came from his palms. Azera and her soldiers stopped moving. The air turned freezing. The falling rain slowly became big and was making big ices that hung suspended in the air. Time seemed to freeze as the world turned into a forest of ice.
Azera hissed a quiet whisper, holding her knife between two fingers. As she whispered, the blade grew long and sharper, glowing with heat. Her eyes snapped to a glowing, demonic red. She forced her body to move through the frozen air, her boots shattering the ice droplets as she walked toward the man. She drew her sword, and the blade burst into fire, melting the frozen rain around her.
The man lay broken in the mud, his magical focus finally breaking. The strange atmosphere vanished. The frozen world thawed instantly, and the heavy rain returned, washing over the alleyway in a noisy downpour.
Azera stood over him, the embers of her flaming sword hissing as raindrops hit the hot metal. She looked down at him with cold eyes. "You knew I carried the eternal flame," she said, her voice barely audible over the rain. "You gave me an easy path to end you. You should have known better than to run with what belongs to the Palace. You stole the Dragon Stone."
The man coughed, spitting more blood into the rising puddles. He looked at the Dragon Stone lying in the dirt, then up at her with a look of pure hatred. "This stone... it was never from the Palace in the first place!" he wheezed. " Your people are the ones who stole it from my ancestors. I am just taking back what you guys took from us centuries ago!"
Azera's grip on her sword tightened, but her face remained cold. "It doesn't matter who had it first. The Palace owns it now."
"You have the stone," the man whispered hoarsely. "Why not kill me and be done with it?"
Azera let out a short, dry laugh. "If only I had the choice to kill you, I would," she replied. "But, I cannot".
A cruel shadow crossed her face beneath the hood. "The Palace wants you alive. They would like to torture you in the lower cells—right where you can meet the rest of your people who tried to play hero."
At the mention of his people being tortured, a wild, desperate anger flared in the man's eyes. He pulled a small, hidden dagger from his belt and lunged upward at Azera's throat. Azera reacted instantly, catching his wrist in a crushing grip.
But the man didn't fight her. He used her force to turn the blade toward his own chest. With a final gasp, he slammed the dagger into his own heart.
He slumped against her, his forehead resting against her armored shoulder. "Even so..." he choked out. "It was all the same. To live a life where we are tortured again... it is better to be dead than to live a life of chains."
His body went limp, sliding into the mud. The blood from his chest mixed with the rain.
"Fuck," Azera hissed under her breath.
She turned away, the red glow in her eyes fading back to black. She signaled to her men. "Secure the stone," she commanded. "The man is dead. Let's go back to the Palace."
In the realm of Celestia, the air was forever still and smelled of blooming jasmine. This was the true Heaven, a world of floating islands connected by bridges made of solid light. The sun never set here; it simply hung in the sky like a giant, golden pearl, washing everything in a soft, warm glow.
On the emerald grass of the upper gardens, small creatures called Glimmer-Puffs scurried about. They were tiny, round animals with fur as soft as silk and massive, glowing purple eyes. Each one carried a small, pulsing crystal between its paws, moving them from one flower to another to feed the plants with pure energy. They chirped softly, their tiny feet making no sound on the grass. To any onlooker, Celestia was a paradise of perfect peace.
However, far away from the golden gardens, the light began to fade. At the edge of the realm stood the Void Bastion, a massive fortress carved from black stone that sucked the light out of the air.
Inside the dark halls of the Bastion, heavenly guards moved back and forth. They spoke in low voices, minding their own business and checking the heavy seals on the walls. In the center of this dark place was a cage so large it could hold a mountain.
Inside, a Great Black Dragon lay curled in a deep sleep. Thick, divine chains made of white gold wrapped around its neck and wings, pinning it to the floor. The dragon had not opened its eyes in five hundred years, its breathing slow and heavy like the sound of distant thunder.
Even deeper within the Bastion, down a flight of narrow stone stairs, lay the Silent Cave. It was a cold, damp place where the only sound was the steady drip... drip... drip... ofwater falling from a stalactite into a dark pool.
In the center of the cave, a man named Kazeroth was held captive. His two hands were pulled wide and fastened to the stone walls by heavy, rusted chains. His head hung low, his long hair covering his face. He was motionless, appearing almost like a statue in the dark. He had been forgotten by the world above, left to rot in the damp silence while the Gods celebrated their eternal peace in the light.
The tiny Glimmer-Puff carried a heavy, leather-bound book toward the entrance of the Bastion. Its massive purple eyes blinked as it struggled with the weight, its soft fur glowing faintly under the eternal sun. The high-ranking Gods had commanded the creature to deliver the record book to the prison guards, and though it could not speak, the tiny creature obeyed without question.
At the entrance of the dark fortress, two guards stood leaning against their spears. They wore polished silver armor that reflected the light of the upper heavens, but their faces were twisted with boredom and cruelty. When the small Glimmer-Puff reached them and held out the book with its trembling paws, one guard snorted and kicked a bit of dirt toward the creature's face.
"Look at this pathetic thing," the first guard laughed, snatching the book roughly. "The Gods send us a fur-ball to do their chores."
The second guard leaned down, his shadow towering over the tiny animal. He was arrogant, his voice dripping with malice. "Hey, little beast. Since you're so good at delivering things, we have a new job for you. Take this bowl of slop down to the pit of Level 70. There's a prisoner down there who hasn't been fed in a century."
The Glimmer-Puff shivered, its big eyes filling with fear. It let out a tiny, high-pitched whimper.
"Don't be scared," the guard mocked, leaning closer until his cold visor touched the creature's nose. "Go now. If you don't, we'll throw you into the cage and let the Black Dragon eat you for breakfast. It hasn't eaten in five hundred years, and you look like a tasty snack."
The guards exploded into laughter. The Glimmer-Puff, innocent and terrified, had no choice but to follow orders. It picked up the heavy metal bowl of gray food and began the long walk down. It left the warmth of the sun behind and entered the damp, freezing darkness of the lower caves.
As it descended, the air became thick with the sound of misery. The Glimmer-Puff passed through a massive open cavern where hundreds of prisoners were locked in iron cages. They reached out their skeletal hands, shouting and crying for help, their voices echoing off the jagged stone walls. The tiny creature hurried past them, its heart racing against its ribs.
Suddenly, a small, glowing beetle—a Glimmer-Puff's favorite snack—scuttled across the path. For a moment, the creature's hunger overrode its fear. It began to run, chasing the beetle deeper into a side tunnel that was even darker than the rest.
The beetle flew into a narrow, dripping cave. The Glimmer-Puff followed, skidding to a stop as it reached the center of the room. There, it saw a man.
Kazeroth was hanging from the walls, his arms pulled tight by heavy, rusted chains. The water from the ceiling dripped onto his matted hair. The Glimmer-Puff didn't see a monster; it only saw a person who looked cold and lonely. Feeling a surge of kindness, the creature walked up to him. It set the bowl of food down and looked at the man's still face.
The Glimmer-Puff stood on its tiptoes and reached out a soft, tiny paw. It gently poked Kazeroth's cheek, trying to see if he was awake. But there was no response. The man remained as still as a corpse, his skin pale and cold under the creature's touch.
The golden light of the Heart-Stone touched the center of Kazeroth's forehead. The cave did not brighten. Instead, the stone hissed, and the light was pulled into his skin like water into dry sand. The cystal in the Glimmer-Puff's paws turned from gold to a dark, broken purple.
A sharp crack echoed through the room as the stone shattered. The energy pushed the Glimmer-Puff backward, sending it rolling into the ground. The metal bowl flipped over, spilling the gray food onto the floor with a loud clang.
Kazeroth's fingers moved. His knuckles popped as he curled his hands into fists. The heavy chains on his wrists began to shake, creating a low humming sound against the stone walls.
Slowly, the man's head lifted. His matted hair fell back, showing a face as pale as bone. His eyes snapped open. There were no pupils—only two pits of swirling black shadow. He took a long, heavy breath, and the air in the cave instantly turned freezing cold.
He stared at the Glimmer-Puff sitting in the ground. The creature was frozen, its large eyes reflecting the darkness of his gaze. Kazeroth remained silent, but purple energy from the broken stone crawled up the metal of his chains. The rust on the metal started to smoke and melt away.
In the upper level of the Bastion, the floor shook. The Great Black Dragon shifted its massive body. Its eyes, which had been closed for five hundred years, slowly opened. They were also pits of swirling shadow, with a faint, dark-purple flame pulsing inside. The dragon let out a low growl that shook the entire prison.
Kazeroth looked at the wall. He pulled his arms forward. The metal links groaned and turned into fine dust. He stepped away from the wall and stood tall. He was thin and covered in dirt, but the air around him felt heavy with power.
In the Aetherial Spire ,where Gods sat on their thrones was the sacred place where the high leaders held their council. The Gods were still talking, their voices echoing through the vast space as they discussed the laws of the heavens and the state of the lower worlds.
The hall was filled with a quiet power that had not changed for centuries.
Suddenly, that power began to shake. The heavy silence was shattered as a guard burst into the hall, his face pale and his breathing heavy. He knelt quickly, his voice trembling. "The prisoners has escaped!"
They stood up from their thrones in shock. "How is this possible?" one shouted. "Why was the prisoner able to escape when the seal was so powerful? It was built to last for eternity!"
Another God narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping to a low, dark tone. "Don't tell me..."
At those words, they all looked into each other's eyes and understood the weight of the situation. A silent realization passed between them—if the seal was broken, it meant a greater power was at work or a grave mistake had been made.
Kaelum's face twisted with rage as he turned toward the others.
"Call the Master!" Kaelum yelled to the God beside him. "Call Lord Valerius immediately!"
They acted instantly and called for the students to be summoned.
The explosion of dark energy from Kazeroth's cell ripped through the foundation of the Bastion. The floor of the upper levels cracked open, letting out a roar that sounded like the earth was screaming. In the great center hall, the divine white-gold chains holding the Black Dragon snapped like thin glass. The dragon let out a blast of black fire that melted the iron bars of its mountain-sized cage.
The dragon, whose name was Vorgarath, lunged forward. Its wings beat against the air, creating a wind so strong it sent the silver-armored guards flying against the walls.
From the holes in the floor, thousands of prisoners began to climb out. They were dirty and weak, but the dragon's roar gave them a sudden burst of desperate strength. They swarmed the guards, fighting with their bare hands to find the exit.
Outside, the student of Xylo, a young god named Malcor, arrived with a battalion of celestial soldiers. He raised his hand, and glowing green symbols appeared in the air. These symbols turned into vines of sharp light that wrapped around the escaping prisoners, pinning them to the ground.
"Do not let a single soul leave!" Malcor shouted, his eyes glowing with green power.
But the ceiling above him exploded.
Kazeroth shot upward from the deep pit, surrounded by a swirling aura of purple shadow. He did not look like a weak prisoner anymore. He floated in the air, his long hair whipping in the wind.
Immediately, the sky above the Bastion filled with light. Three of the High Gods—Kaelum, Vorosh, and Ishtaros—descended from the clouds. They did not touch the ground; they hovered in the air, looking down at Kazeroth with cold anger.
"You should have stayed in the dark, Kazeroth," Kaelum yelled. He swung his hand, and a massive golden spear made of solid light appeared. " A man who ruined the past deserves to stay sealed forever."
Kazeroth looked at his hands and shrugged. He didn't look like he cared. "I didn't choose to wake up," he said plainly. "I was just sleeping there and suddenly I was awake. Maybe I was given a chance, maybe not. I don't really know how it happened, but I'm out now."
Then, Kazeroth started to laugh. It wasn't a loud laugh, just a dry, mocking sound that filled the entrance of the cave. He looked at the Gods and their formation like they were a joke.
Kaelum's face turned red. He couldn't stand being laughed at by a prisoner. His grip tightened on his weapon until his knuckles turned white.
"You think this is funny?!" Kaelum roared.
Without waiting for another word, Kaelum stepped forward and threw his golden spear with all his strength. The spear turned into a bolt of light, flying straight at Kazeroth's chest but leaned his head to the side.
The golden spear whistled past him and shattered against the cave wall. He didn't stay still. As the other Gods charged in a blur of light, Kazeroth moved. He blocked a heavy punch from Vorosh and swiped his leg, forcing the other Gods to jump back.
They swarmed him, weapons clashing against his bare arms as if he were made of iron. While they fought, Vorosh growled, "You should have stayed a corpse!"
Suddenly, a perfume like night-blooming flowers filled the air. A female named Lyra-Bel landed gracefully in the middle of the chaos. She didn't look angry like the others. She looked at Kazeroth with a playful smile.
"Oh, my darling Kazeroth," Lyra-Bel said, tilting her head. "I thought the dark had swallowed you forever. I've missed that stubborn face of yours. Why are you fighting these fools? You should be coming with me instead."
Kazeroth stopped for a second, catching a sword blade between two fingers. He looked at Lyra-Bel and smirked. "Still as beautiful as the day I was locked away, Lyra. If I knew you were waiting for me, I might have tried harder to wake up sooner. How about you drop that weapon and we go find somewhere quiet?"
Lyra-Bel giggled, her eyes glowing. "You always did have a silver tongue, even after five hundred years of dust."
But then, Kazeroth's smirk turned cold. He leaned in closer and whispered loud enough for the others to hear, "But I remember now. You were the one who held the chains while they kicked me into the pit. Your beauty is just a mask for a coward."
The flirtatious look on Lyra-Bel's face snapped instantly. Her eyes turned into slits of rage and her skin turned a pale, ghostly white.
"You arrogant trash!" she screamed, her voice cracking the stones around them. She pulled out a jagged whip made of dark thorns and lashed it toward his throat. "I'll tear that tongue out of your head myself!"
Now, with Lyra-Bel joining the attack in a blind rage, the fight became even more violent.
The students rushed forward to join the battle, but a loud roar stopped them. The Great Dragon burst from the shadows of the cave. It did not attack Kazeroth; instead, it stood by his side and swung its massive tail, clearing a path through the students and Gods.
Kazeroth took advantage of the chaos. As he fought off the surrounding Gods, he brought his hand to his mouth and whispered a dark command. His fingernails grew long and sharp like claws. He sliced his own palm open. Thick, dark blood pooled in his hand.
Instead of falling to the ground, the blood hovered in the air. Kazeroth flicked the floating droplets toward the group of Gods. As the blood touched the air near them, it exploded. A massive blast of red energy threw the Gods backward, covering the area in smoke and dust.
Kazeroth jumped onto the back of the Dragon. With a powerful beat of its wings, the beast took off into the sky.
The Gods struggled to their feet, coughing in the smoke. They were about to fly after him, but a voice stopped them.
"Let him go," said Lord Valerius, the Leader of the Celestials. He was an old man with a long, flowing white beard, that reached down to his chest, and his eyes held the wisdom of a thousand years. He walked forward, his expression calm
"Why?" Kaelum shouted, his face red with fury. "He is a murderer! He killed our fellow Gods before we sealed him! We have him right here!"
Valerius looked toward the horizon where the Dragon was disappearing. "A life that is meant to walk the earth cannot be held by a broken cage," Valerius said. "If we chase him now, more of you will die. We are not ready."
"This is madness!" Lyra-Bel hissed. "Who even let him escape? Someone opened that seal!"
Valerius reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, round creature—a Glimmer Puff. It was shaking. The creature made a soft "Puah" sound. Valerius looked at it and gave a short, dry laugh.
"This little thing is the one," Valerius said. "It wandered into the seals and broke the flow of power. It did not know what it was doing, but the law must be followed."
Valerius looked at the Glimmer Puff. "I hope you have a good journey," he said. He flicked his finger against the back of the creature, sending it tumbling through the air and falling down toward the world below.
He turned to the other Gods. "As for the ones truly in charge, find the guards who were on duty at the Bastion. They failed their watch. Put them in the prison cells for four hundred years to replace the prisoners we lost."
High above the clouds, Kazeroth sat on the Dragon's back. He felt a sudden weight land next to him. He looked down and saw the Glimmer Puff. It was sitting there, looking tired.
"Why are you here?" Kazeroth asked.
The Glimmer Puff just blinked and said, "Puah."
Kazeroth noticed a small mark on the creature's back—a faint trail of smoke as if it had been flicked by a powerful hand. He realized then that someone back at the palace had sent it to him on purpose.
The Dragon let out a deep roar, a trail of smoke leaving its nostrils. The three of them—the man, the dragon, and the small creature—flew into the distance. Their journey had officially begun.