Heavy rain pattered against the stained‑glass windows of St. Aidan's Cathedral, each drop a muted drumbeat against the hush of mourning. Elias Cross, jacket collar pulled high against the chill, lingered at the edge of the funeral procession. His father's resonant condolences faded into the patter of water; his mother's quiet tears blurred into the gray sky. Sophie's small hand tugged his sleeve—her hopeful eyes asking questions he couldn't answer.
He needed air. He needed silence.
Stepping through a side door, Elias slipped into the nave, lantern in hand. The cavernous interior was empty except for the distant drip of water from the fractured roof and the flicker of unlit candles waiting on the altar. He set his lantern on the cold marble floor and pressed a palm against the nearest column, letting the rough stone ground him. He closed his eyes and whispered his cousin Mara's name, each syllable a vow he could not yet fulfill.
He drew in deep breaths, counting in his mind: one… two… three—
Crack!
The world erupted.
Glass shattered overhead. Elias slammed knees‑first into the altar steps as a figure tore through the roof in a storm of splintered beams and dazzling light. Rainwater hissed as it met burning embers, steam twisting around the newcomer's form.
He saw her then—an angel, but nothing like the pale icons in dusty paintings. Her wings were shredded, feathers trailing sparks; wounds glowed red beneath gilded armor. In one hand she held a spear of pure lightning, humming with thunder's memory. Her hair, gold like dawn's first light, whipped across eyes that burned with righteous fury.
A second angel descended behind her, draped in shadow and iron. Its wings were obsidian, its face hidden beneath a mask that felt carved from nightmares. Electricity danced at its fingertips, eager to consume.
Elias swallowed the panic rising in his chest. No—he would not be paralyzed. He'd survived every late‑night scuffle Sophie had worried over, every bruise he hid from his parents. He could handle this.
He sprinted forward, mind racing through possibilities like equations:
If I shield her, we can retreat through the broken rear wall.
If I distract the dark angel, maybe she can finish it off.
If I fail… Sophie loses her only brother.
A bolt of black lightning ripped toward the wounded angel. Instinct won. Elias lunged, tackling her to the ground. Pain exploded along his side where shrapnel bit his flesh, but he held.
Her spear clattered to the floor. For a heartbeat, they lay tangled in each other's arms, rain washing over them. Then she threw off her attacker—wings flaring in a cascade of sparks—and rose to her feet.
Elias blinked as a second surge of power swept through him. His vision fractured into prismatic shards, data streaming through his mind:
Bond established.
Human: Elias Cross.
Angel: Celestia of the Ninth Echelon.
He staggered back, lantern clattering. The cathedral vaults echoed with a voice not his own—Celestia's memories, jagged and half‑erased: vaulted halls of white marble, a council that condemned her for mercy, wings dimmed and stripped away.
Above him, the dark angel hesitated. In that pregnant silence, Celestia's spear blazed to life once more—this time as three crackling javelins. She hurled them with deadly grace; they spun like tethered comets and struck the shadow‑clad figure. It erupted in an explosion of ash and echoes, collapsing into a smoldering heap.
Rain sluiced over the ruin, steam rising from celestial embers. Elias sank to one knee, heart hammering. He pressed trembling fingers to the sigil stamped into his palm—a wing of pure electricity etched into his flesh.
Celestia strode through the wreckage, every step charged with authority. She yanked rain‑soaked strands of hair from her face and surveyed Elias with eyes that might have been amused—if amusement weren't so foreign.
"Congratulations, Elias Cross," she said, voice low and steady like a war drum. "You're now part of a tournament older than memory. One hundred angel‑human pairs—only one sigil left unstained. Kill or be killed. If you die… I vanish. If I die… you lose everything you've become."
Elias met her stare, mind already cataloging her words for patterns and vulnerabilities. She moved like water over stone—fluid but unstoppable. He nodded once, precise: "Rules noted. What's our next move?"
Her lips quirked—perhaps surprise that her human spoke so quickly—but she answered with tactical clarity: "We vanish before the others trace our signature. Angels broadcast an aura of energy you can learn to hide—if you master the link we share."
She drew her spear in a single arc, the air crackling. "Follow me."
He rose, testing muscles he'd never known he possessed. Pain shot through his ribs, but he blinked it away. If Celestia could fight through wounds like these, so could he.
Together, they moved down a shattered aisle. Elias's mind raced:
Angelic energy left a trail—bioelectric field detectable by any celestial hunter.
Their sanctuary was compromised; they needed a safehouse.
His sister Sophie would worry—he had to secure her safety.
Arielle… his childhood friend—what would she think when he returned changed?
They emerged through a side exit into an alley slick with rain. The city's lights cast long shadows. Sirens wailed in the distance—mortal alarms to a supernatural war. Celestia glanced over her shoulder, wings folding, half invisible.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
Elias exhaled, chest tight. "I trust intelligence. Yours so far has saved my life."
She inclined her head—a gesture almost warm. "Good. Then listen carefully: we move north to the old crypt beneath Blackthorn Library. The ley lines there mask celestial traces. We'll regroup, learn your abilities, and plan our first strike."
He absorbed every word. Even now, his logical mind cataloged terrain, exit routes, potential threats. Celestia might be the war machine—lightning and fury incarnate—but he would be the strategist who kept her alive.
Above them, lightning split the sky. For a moment, Celestia's wings unfurled completely—each feather a serrated blade of light. She stepped forward, spear leveled, rain cascading around her like battle banners. Elias followed, sigil glowing faintly in the lantern's afterglow.
They vanished into the night.
Somewhere high above, unseen watchers marked a new name in the Celestial Ledger. The war had begu