The first time they saw her, she was standing at the edge of the ruined chapel, bathed in twilight.

Sephiroth—a fallen hero turned god-slayer—had been wandering this realm in silence, chasing whispers of a "light" that defied his darkness. He did not expect to find it in the form of a mortal woman, eyes alight with defiance, a blade she could barely lift held toward him.

"You’re not from this world," she had said, voice unwavering despite the fear behind her calm.

Sephiroth didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His eyes—the color of mako—burned with recognition, not of her, but of something deeper. Destiny, maybe.

Ardyn Izunia, the immortal outcast of Lucis, had been watching. Always watching. Unlike Sephiroth, he had known of her presence for weeks now. Her soul was stained with sorrow, yet her heart burned like the sun. Curious… how someone so fragile could survive in a place like this.

He appeared only once Sephiroth had turned his back.

"Quite the entrance he made, didn’t he?" Ardyn drawled, tipping his hat as he sauntered into view, his smile maddeningly calm. "But I wonder—has he earned your curiosity yet? Or is there still room left for me?"

She didn’t answer. Not at first.

But when she looked at them—one a fallen angel, the other a cursed king—she didn’t see monsters.

She saw two men as broken as she was.

And that, perhaps, was where the real danger began.