The Demacian sky parted beneath Kayle's majestic flight, her wings of celestial fire leaving a trail of golden light that illuminated the clouds like a divine sunrise. Her short hair, blonde like a flash of lightning, waved with each beat of her fiery feathers, while her cold, calculating eyes scanned the world below her with unchanging disdain, observing the small Demacian people, a people who now feared her power and divinity... how ridiculous.

In her hand, the sacred sword throbbed eagerly, its shining edge yearning to be reunited with its other half. But Kayle would not give in to impatience. No. She would not be the one to take away what was rightfully hers. Her sister, stubborn and foolish, clung to what she no longer deserved. Let Morgana play the rebel a little longer...

A sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of annoyance and resignation. Below, among the streets of Demacia, humanity continued its cycle of sin and weakness. Some begged for mercy. Others defied the law. All would be judged.

With a sharp turn, her wings unfurled their brilliance, and Kayle swooped down. Someone had dared to tarnish justice. And that sword, hungry for purification, would finally have its feast.

"Let the sinner pray... before my light reaches him."