Days passed like ripples in a still pond.
The storm outside had long faded, but within the small cabin tucked between the whispering woods of Elarion Vale, silence ruled. Lucien lay in a deep slumber, his body swathed in layers of bandages, his once-divine skin still scorched from Heaven's wrath. The faint glow beneath his flesh — remnants of his divine core — flickered faintly like dying embers refusing to go out.
Serena watched over him every morning, her hands gentle but steady as she replaced the herbs on his burns and whispered prayers that no longer reached the sky. Each day he looked a little less broken, though the light in him felt… different. Wilder. Untamed.
When she was certain he would not awaken that day, Serena wrapped herself in a pale wool cloak and returned to her village before dusk.
---
The village of Aelhurst rested in a green valley, where rivers cut through golden fields and windmills creaked lazily against the breeze. Once, this place had been blessed — its harvests rich, its people devout. The villagers believed in the Light Eternal, the nameless god whose warmth guided their lives.
But faith, Serena had learned, did not always protect.
The sanctuary stood atop a small rise overlooking the village — a modest stone temple crowned with a single stained-glass dome. As she entered, the quiet hum of candle flames greeted her. The air smelled faintly of myrrh and spring rain. At the altar, a marble figure of an angel loomed with its wings outstretched — its expression serene, its hands extended toward heaven.
Serena knelt, clasping her hands tightly.
"Light above," she whispered, voice soft yet trembling. "Grant my people peace. Grant my hands the strength to heal. And if it pleases you… grant me love that does not fade."
Her voice wavered near the end. She blinked away a tear and pressed her forehead to her clasped fingers. For a moment, she thought she felt warmth — a soft hum of divine presence.
But it faded just as quickly as it came.
She exhaled shakily. "You're quiet again…"
"Serena?" came a frail voice behind her.
She turned to see the village elder — a bent man with silver hair and eyes clouded by age — leaning on his cane near the entrance. Elder Ryn had been the keeper of faith here since before she was born. His smile was kind, though heavy with weariness.
"Praying again, child?" he asked.
Serena nodded and rose to her feet. "For the village. The crops are thinning again, and the rain's been harsh. I only wish the gods would listen."
Ryn chuckled softly. "The gods listen, Serena. But they have their own rhythm. Sometimes silence is their answer."
She smiled faintly, but her heart disagreed. "Then I wish they'd speak faster."
The elder laughed, a dry rasp that carried more affection than mockery. "You've got a stubborn heart. That will serve you well, but it will hurt you, too."
Before she could respond, a scream tore through the air outside.
Then another.
The bells began to ring.
Serena's heart froze. "No…"
She rushed to the door, Elder Ryn calling after her, but she didn't listen. As she burst outside, smoke was already rising from the far edge of the village. The cries of panic, the clash of steel, the roar of flames — chaos had come like a plague.
Bandits. Dozens of them, pouring from the forest on horseback. Their torches set the wheat fields ablaze, their arrows shattered windows, their laughter was cruel and hungry. The smell of burning thatch filled the air as families ran for cover.
Serena's hands shook. She turned to the elder. "We have to—"
"Run!" he coughed, grabbing her arm. "The sanctuary is lost! We must get the children to the well tunnels!"
But Serena couldn't move. She watched as the bandits cut through the streets, looting and killing without mercy. She whispered a prayer — words she had said a thousand times before.
"Light above, deliver us—"
No answer.
She prayed again, louder this time, her voice cracking with desperation. "Please! Hear me! Protect them!"
Still nothing.
Only the sound of burning roofs and dying pleas.
Something inside her broke.
Her hands, once trembling in faith, lowered slowly to her sides. The elder reached for her again, but this time she stepped back.
"I'm sorry, Elder Ryn," she said quietly, her voice cold with something unfamiliar. "But I can't wait for the heavens anymore."
Before he could speak, she turned and ran — not toward the tunnels, but toward the forest. Toward the cabin.
---
The door burst open with a gust of wind and smoke.
Lucien stirred faintly, his breath shallow. His golden hair, though dulled by ash, still caught the dim firelight through the window. His skin had healed in patches, though deep scars lined his arms and back where wings once bloomed.
Serena fell to her knees beside him, gasping for air. "Lucien! Wake up!"
His eyes opened slowly — eyes like molten dawn, dimmed but unyielding. He blinked, voice low and heavy with exhaustion. "…Serena?"
"They're attacking the village," she said, grabbing his hand. "Please, you have to help. You have to do something!"
Lucien stared at her — at the soot staining her face, the fear trembling in her voice — and felt a pang deep in his chest. He tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his body like molten steel. He winced, clutching his ribs.
"I cannot," he rasped. "Not as I am."
"Please," she begged. "You're not human. I saw your wounds — the wings, the halo. You have power."
Lucien turned his gaze away. "I had power. But divinity comes with a price. The moment I fell, I lost the right to wield Heaven's authority. Even if I could… every act would tear what's left of me apart."
Serena's lips trembled. "So you'll just… let them die?"
"I did not say that," he murmured.
She fell silent, her breath uneven. Then he looked up at her — the faint glow in his eyes hardening into resolve.
"There may be another way," he said softly. "But it requires something from you."
Serena blinked, unsure. "From me?"
Lucien nodded. "Faith. True faith. The kind that binds the mortal and the divine."
She frowned, confusion mixing with disbelief. "Faith? What are you—"
"If you can worship me," he said slowly, "I can forge the connection. Through your belief, I may regain strength enough to intervene. Your prayers will not go unanswered… if they are offered to me."
Serena's heart pounded. "Worship you? You're asking me to turn my back on the light."
"I'm asking you to survive," he said, voice low but steady. "Faith is part of worship, and trust is part of faith. So I ask you, Serena — do you have faith in me?"
The words hung heavy in the air, carrying an ancient power that made her breath hitch. His gaze pierced through her, not as a god, not as a fallen angel, but as something in between — broken, yet still burning.
Outside, the screams continued. The world was crumbling.
Serena hesitated only for a heartbeat before she reached out, taking his hand in both of hers. Her eyes glistened with tears, but her voice was steady.
"Yes," she whispered. "I have faith."
Lucien's lips curved faintly — the first real smile she had ever seen from him. "Then every pact… must have its cost."
She nodded, not letting go.
Lucien's hand tightened around hers, and light began to bloom between their palms — faint at first, then brilliant. His skin shimmered as golden veins ignited beneath it, tracing runes across his arm like living scripture. The room trembled, and for a moment, Serena saw fragments of something vast — wings of fire, a forge of stars, and a crown shattered into light.
Her breath caught. "What's happening?"
He met her gaze. "For prayers to be answered… they must be fed by sacrifice."
Serena's pulse quickened. "What kind of sacrifice?"
Lucien didn't answer. Instead, he lifted her chin gently, his touch warm and steady despite his broken state. "Faith is not given — it's shared."
And before she could speak, she found herself drawn forward — not by command, but by instinct. Their lips met, and in that moment, faith and fire intertwined.
Light erupted between them — searing yet tender, burning yet pure. The Heavenforge awoke, its sigils pulsing through Lucien's veins as the first Faith Bond formed.
---
[Heavenforge System: Faith Link Established]
[Source: Mortal Priestess — Serena Althene]
[Faith Energy Conversion: Stable — Pure Faith Detected]
[Heavenforge Core Reactivating… 23% Integrity Restored]
[Accessing: Light Reconstruction Protocols]
---
The kiss broke, and Serena gasped softly, pulling back. Her lips trembled, her eyes wide with awe. The golden light still danced between their joined hands, pulsing with divine rhythm.
Lucien exhaled, the fire in his body no longer agony, but strength. His skin began to heal faster, the cracks sealing with soft luminescence.
He looked at her — truly looked — and spoke, voice calm and resolute.
"Your faith has kindled the forge."
Outside, thunder rolled across the darkened skies. Lucien turned toward the window, his eyes burning once more with celestial light, and his divine beauty returning once more.
"The gods abandoned this world," he said quietly, "so let us make our own."
And with that, the first spark of the Heavenforge blazed fully to life.
The fallen angel had found his first believer.
And through her, the dawn would rise again.