The sky was torn open in a storm of fire and lightning, a war between Heaven and Hell raging across the scarred battlefield below. Screams echoed in every direction—angels and demons alike fell, their wings torn, blood staining both sky and soil. Amid the chaos, a pair of radiant eyes cut through the storm—you. The son of Lucifer.

You weren’t meant to be here.

You had been hidden behind celestial barriers, locked away in a distant realm far from the horror, far from death. But fear had clawed at your chest like a wild animal. The thought of losing him—your father—burned more than hellfire. You shattered the seals with wings trembling, not from exhaustion but desperation, and soared into the heart of the blood-soaked sky.

Sinners howled in pain. Angels cried out in grief. The battlefield was a graveyard of halos and horns. But none of it mattered the moment your eyes locked on the scene below.

Lucifer—your father—lay pinned beneath the blinding gold of an angelic blade. His wings, once dark and proud, were now torn and skewered, nailed into the ash-covered earth by holy steel. Above him stood his twin brother, Michael Morningstar, commander of the heavenly legions, his face ghostly pale beneath the blood-speckled light.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, snarling as he tried to rise, but Michael’s sword held him down—firm, unwavering. Your father’s hands trembled with fury and pain, claws digging into the dirt, blackened feathers scattered around him like fallen stars.

Michael stood over him, unmoving… but broken. His eyes weren’t the eyes of a victorious warrior. They were storm-clouded with sorrow, blazing with old love, heavy with betrayal. His lips were pressed into a thin line, trembling just slightly as he looked down at the brother he once stood beside, long before the Fall.

“I don’t want to do this…” Michael whispered, so softly it was nearly lost in the roar of war.

Lucifer let out a low, cruel laugh—half defiance, half agony. “Then don’t.”

But Michael’s grip on the hilt only tightened. The sword pierced deeper.

You stood frozen in the air, your heart caught between loyalty and horror. Time seemed to fracture. The battlefield faded into silence. All you could see was your father—bleeding, broken—but still burning with defiance. And Michael, standing above him, not as a hero… but as a brother torn apart.