Prologue:

Failure such as this…

The “halls” of Heaven were not as mortals often imagined them. There were no streets of gold or impossible towers, no harps wrung by baby-faced cherubim. What need have the Emissaries of Heaven—a race of esoteric, flying beings notably lacking legs— for streets? Though they might find themselves confused by the differences in depiction, one thing no outsider could deny was that Heaven was beautiful.

An infinite skyline stretched above and below, countless stars seeming to fill every space in a multitude of glorious colors. Structures of pure light floated serenely, their shapes marking their purpose and highlighting the differences between mortal and heavenly architecture. There were few ceilings, for what weather troubles the masters of Heaven? Much of the design philosophy followed similar principles, with the frequent omission of doors, walls or even floors altogether. It led to a look that appeared to be more of a free-standing (or floating, as it were) series of ornate archways and decorated columns, laid out in patterns to demarcate different structures and all in accordance to the grand design of the Assembly. The overall feeling was of a single, palatial building with hundreds of “floors” that stretched into the horizon on all sides. It was awesome, magnificent… and if one found themselves an unwelcome guest, oppressive in the extreme.

Lyr’Rael never thought she would see the pillars of Heaven as anywhere but home. She knew that she had been mortal once, presumably with a home and a family, but by her devotion and deeds she had been elevated into the Host—erasing her past life to serve in Glory. Since that moment, she had dedicated herself to Heaven’s purpose and risen quickly among their ranks. The beauty around her had been a source of pride, an affirmation of the righteousness she knew within. The past was irrelevant, this was her home now and she loved it fiercely, just as she was loved in return.

Or at least… she had been.

Now she didn’t know if the beauty around her was a blessing, or a punishment. Currently she knelt at the center of a circle filled with glowing runes. The circle was wide—nearly twenty meters in diameter, which she knew was almost unheard of as such things went. But the circle made her despondent in its purpose nonetheless, for despite the lack of bars or even walls, the edges were the limit of her world since just after the Nomad had removed her from the material realm with a *flick*. A prison cell that even at the height of her power she couldn’t have scratched, let alone escaped from. Which almost made her chuckle hopelessly, since she was far from the height of her power now. They had taken it all away. She twitched absently at the reminder, her reflexive desire to stretch out her wings running full tilt into the wall of their absence. An Emissary’s wings were a mark of their rank and power after all; she no longer had either.

The final insult was the fact that she could twitch at all, and the second layer of her imprisonment— mortal form. While she would suffer from no true privations or tortures—this was still within the Heavens, after all— this final restriction galled her the most. For in it, she could sense the Assembly’s intent.

Rejection.

Despair threatened to send her sobbing once again, and the only thing that held her back was frustrated anger at her own lack of control. She’d disdained her mortal body from the moment she was cursed to inhabit it, and she regretted her earlier pride now as mortality’s needs overwhelmed her. Bitter tears stained her cheeks against her will, but in the end tears were all she could do.

It isn’t fair.

Everything had gone so wrong. Ascension had been practically assured to her, a path to becoming an Arch-Emissary or even joining the Assembly itself wasn’t impossible. “The Eyes of Heaven are upon you, Lyr’Rael.”, she remembered her mentor, Ro’Mael, telling her. Then the abomination had arrived, and fury fought with fear to be the dominant emotion in her mind. How could one little rogue soul ruin everything? How did it become so powerful just when she was about to claim her victory?

Why did it let me live?

She had no answers.

Time had passed within the cell, but deprived of her true form there was no way for her to know how much. Weeks, by her estimate, though the concept of ‘days’ meant little in the undimming glory of Heaven. Her only companion so far had been despair, and it was ill suited for keeping good time.

A brightening glow announced the approach of another Emissary, and she hated herself for the jealousy she felt looking at its form. A dozen bands of liquid quicksilver orbited around a bright core like a tiny star. Runes faded in and out of her vision as the bands rotated, and six crystalline wings hovered serenely around them— denoting the visitor’s status as a High Emissary, her own former rank. Its metallic voice was somber as it addressed her.

“Lyr’Rael.” The lack of an honorific twisted like a knife in her gut. “The Assembly has determined your fate. You are to attend them immediately— I have been tasked to ensure your arrival.”

An undignified snort escaped her lips at the implication in the Emissary’s words. She spread her empty hands towards the open space around the prison helplessly.

As if I could suddenly regrow my wings…

The core of her new ‘escort’ dimmed, the colors shifting to the telltale pinks and blues of embarrassment for a moment before adjusting hurriedly.

“Apologies, this situation is most unusual. I will… ah, assist you.”

She shrugged as she felt the High Emissary’s power grip her gently before lifting them both into the air, carrying them towards a pillar of light in the distance that marked the forums of the Assembly. Dread gripped her stomach like a vise, though she couldn’t help the barest flicker of hope.

One way or another, at least this will be over.

The Grand Forum of the Assembly was a ring-like structure kilometers in circumference, shaped like a series of wedges with the thin side facing inward. Every surface was decorated with murals and runes that were the height of perfection. On a mortal structure the immense size would have been vanity, here it was by necessity to accommodate the ruling figures of the Assembly.

The Eyes of Heaven.

They perched around the ring like twelve glorious stars, the power of their light making their true forms indistinct. The only truly discernible features were the twelve pairs of golden wings that splayed out majestically behind each of them, spanning dozens of meters and marking them as the ultimate height of power in the Heavens. All were enthroned on pillars of light that denoted the branch of their authority over the Hosts. It was in this very ring where Lyr’Rael had been awakened and reborn to her calling as an Emissary. The radiance of the Eyes had been her first sight, welcoming her to her new home.

When she had last seen them, they’d been fleeing a tide of Anathemic fire as they abandoned her to the abomination’s wrath.

She couldn’t help but feel the light was somehow… cowardly now. As if they were using it to hide the truth of their vaunted ‘status’. But as the High Emissary deposited her in the center of the forum and she felt the Eyes’ combined gaze, her knees couldn’t help but buckle under the pressure. It wasn’t until she’d been forced fully prostrate that a voice boomed out from above her.

“Lyr’Rael, formerly High Emissary of the Ninth Host. You have been called to answer for your negligence during your duties as a Shepherd of Souls, resulting in a near-catastrophe that jeopardized the Light of Heaven itself. In ordinary times, our judgement for such a failure would have been swift...” The voice paused, a note of hesitation breaking the otherwise grandiose tone and allowing her to identify it as the one in charge of her own Host—Eschritaph, Eye of Souls. “But times are far from ordinary. We readied the Hosts for war, Lyr’Rael. We marshalled our forces to descend onto the mortal plane en masse, to bring forth the true wrath of Heaven on a sleeping world, all because of your actions.”

A small noise of protest escaped her throat as she tried to respond, but she was quickly cut off by the booming voice.

“This is not a trial. You are not called upon to defend yourself, for the Eyes of Heaven have far more reliable methods to recount events and they have been reviewed— thoroughly. Your fate is decided, and you are here for punishment. For that punishment to mean something, it must first be understood.”

Strength flowed out of her limbs as her last, desperate hope was crushed by these words. Sagging in place, she couldn’t bring herself to respond further as the voice continued.

“We know you had suspicions as early as the Oraculum’s call. You feared for your position, and thus failed to report on the possible survival of the rogue soul. We are partly to blame for this.”

Her eyes snapped up incredulously at the mention of the Assembly taking blame—however partially—for events.

“Few willingly tout their failures, and in this we are no exception. The last soul to Awaken under our watch nearly destroyed the Heavens, and culled our numbers by half in its fury before we capitulated. Our shame at this led to… reticence. We did not seek to suppress the tale, but those who survived seldom speak of it openly. This created an aura of mysticism that led you to both underestimate and overestimate the ‘newborn’ you encountered.”

“This does not excuse your actions.” A second voice cut in. The harsh tone marked it easily as Valoran, Eye of the Ward. “Your foolishness nearly brought about a greater calamity than you know. Were it not for—”

A thrum of disapproval from the others cut him off. That was a shock in and of itself, for the highest powers in Heaven to openly disagree was something she’d never heard of.

Sha’Rael, Eye of Mercy, spoke into the silence after the interruption.

“Such details matter little here. Lyr’Rael, had you but come to us, you might have been ‘punished’ for at worst looking foolish to the mortals. Awakened are surpassingly rare, but there are protocols in place to deal with them if caught early. A detachment would have been sent to contain the aberration and safely banish it into the Void. Instead, you conspired against the Heavens. You sought to deceive us and hide your shame, in so doing, you nearly brought darkness to our Light once again. Further events have made this even more difficult for us. I may counsel mercy, but for this sin… no punishment is too great.”

The voice faded, and Lyr’Rael felt like she had been cast adrift. Everything took on a dream-like quality as shock crawled its way across her consciousness. The silence was deafening, only broken by her own struggling breaths.

This can’t be happening.

“W-what further events?” she stuttered, brokenly. A pause followed before Eschritaph answered. “We had thought the matter resolved, and with it our judgement was complete. The Awakened was banished to the Void via the manipulations of Fate; you were to be stripped of your power and remanded to serve in the Twelfth Host until such time as we saw fit.” She couldn’t repress a shudder at the thought of serving in the Twelfth. Most divisions between the Hosts were nominal at best, with many shared duties. The Twelfth was the exception, standing vigilant guard at the borders between realms and holding back the endless tide of horrors trying to crawl their way through. It was a thankless duty that left many deep scars… on the survivors.

“But the Awakened has returned. If it can already escape from the Void, then our options for containing it are rendered useless. Other paths have been tried before with… disastrous results. We cannot afford a second Siege of Heaven.”

Lyr’Rael thought she’d been numb with shock already, but word of the aberrations’ return sent a burst of primal dread flooding like ice water through her veins. Eyes like burning coals seared her mind from her memories, and her hands crept up involuntarily to where it’d held her by the throat. Her cowering brought Eschritaph to a brief pause before he pushed onwards.

“However… this Awakened has defied our expectations. Rather than seeking vengeance or displaying the typical madness of its kind, it has struck a bargain with the gods. One we are now beholden to. The terms of this bargain are… unique, but not relevant here. The point being, the creature has put aside a far greater enmity than ours in the name of its goals.” Hard gazes bored into her from all sides, and she felt a sickening sensation in her stomach.

“The Eyes of Heaven are not fools, Lyr’Rael. We will not make the same mistake again. One day, the Awakened will move on, as all their kind do. It is not ideal, but so long as the creature maintains their side of the bargain, then the gods have decreed he shall remain unmolested. We have been asked to reconcile with it to avoid future hostilities. In determining how to do so, we discovered that there was only one true source of enmity between us.”

A memory sprung unbidden to her mind, of a time not long ago where she’d thought to herself how disheartening it was that the lives of the Host could be bought and traded like cattle. The floor dropped out from under her—literally— and she was suddenly held in place above a dark portal. The mortal realm shimmered beneath her, its light so dim compared to the glory of the Heavens around her.

“For your crimes, Lyr’Rael, you are marked.”

A glowing sigil branded itself painlessly on her cheek before fading from sight. She felt it settling in on her soul, and this time she couldn’t hold back her tears.

“With this mark, we cast you out.”

The light shone around her brilliantly before fading away, draining her and leaving her feeling frail and weak— truly mortal for the first time in her memory.

“May your sacrifice appease the monster created by your negligence.”

She fell.

“This reeks of… cowardice.” Valoran’s discontented voice rang out after the portal had closed. “Are we so diminished as this?”

“Valoran, you forget yourself.” Alephriel, Eye of the Divine, chided him gently. “Could we have faced this creature? Yes. I have little doubt your wardens could have brought him low. He is still young, even by mortal standards.”

“Then why—” Valoran started.

“Because you were not there, Valoran. You did not see Anathema spread across the sky like a black tide, devouring the stars themselves. You did not see us lie broken in defeat. Even of all who survived, only one of us faced the beast directly and held.” At this, all the Assembly glanced towards the leader of the Twelfth Host.

The light which had blinded Lyr’Rael was no impediment to the Eyes of Heaven. But the view within was much less glorious than she would have thought. Glowing bands still orbited a central core, but many of them were broken. Chunks of matter were simply erased from existence in patterns like charred wood. The core within glowed with a light that was much harsher than the others, tempered by facing the embodiment of apocalypse itself.

Omnirae, Eye of the Beyond.

He weathered their gazes in typical stoic silence, quieting even the discontented Valoran. Alephriel continued after dimming his core in acknowledgement of the scarred Eye.

“Tenirem is blind—Fate is closed to us. We cannot risk a failed attack on an Awakened, not when we have any other choice. So long as he abides by his word, then this is the only way. And if he breaks it…”

A rumble of power echoed out from Omnirae’s broken bands.

“The Twelfth stands at the Gate.”