"Corruption doesn't begin with blood… it begins with defiance against the divine."
The skies trembled.
Appolyth tore through the firmament, her six tattered wings leaving trails of blackened light. Above her, the twin moons—one blood red, one silver—bathed the broken clouds in unholy brilliance.
From beyond the veil, a voice thundered:
"You shall be cut down for your insolence… Tell me, Fallen, where is the child?"
Appolyth halted mid-flight, her chest heaving, fear flickering beneath her corruption. But she lifted her head with defiant pride.
"You don't need to know where I kept my son," she hissed. "The gods are liars, Seraph. They forbade creation not from holiness—but from fear. They know what we could become."
For a heartbeat, the heavens went silent. Then—
A white pillar of pure divinity tore through the clouds and struck the earth, vaporizing the forest below.
A radiant figure stepped forth, wings blazing with eternal flame.
Seraph.
"Prepare yourself, Fallen," his voice resounded, calm yet absolute. "For you will defend your blasphemy with your existence."
Appolyth's lips curled into a trembling smile. Her eyes turned void black, and from her throat came not one voice—but a thousand, echoing the cries of all the souls she had consumed.
"You don't know a mother's love… Seraph."
Then the night exploded with divine and corrupted light