The sky split open.
Thunder didn’t roll—it roared, howled, like a beast wounded by fate. The heavens bled crimson as celestial lightning arced through the skies, searing the firmament. Rain poured down, not water, but something heavier—mixed with ash and divine residue. Olympus itself trembled.
High upon the *Altar of Judgement*, chained by glowing celestial runes, knelt a boy.
*Kyrillos*.
Barefoot, beaten, and broken—not by combat, but by betrayal. His once radiant robes were in tatters, his body scorched with marks of restraint, divine bindings pulsing against his skin.
He was seventeen.
The boy once praised as the Prodigy of the Silver Flame, the Heir of the Celestial Phoenix Sect… now a heretic, condemned by those who once toasted his victories.
Around him stood the *Twelve Grand Houses*, their banners flapping wildly in the divine storm. Faces half-shadowed under golden helms and jeweled crowns, yet none dared look him in the eye. Only one figure, hidden in the rear, wept silently behind a silver veil—*Aphrodite*.