The mansion had grown quieter than ever. Even the shadows seemed to hesitate in the corners, waiting. Celestia sat on the edge of her canopy bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin, the glow a constant reminder of her blood, her power, and her role in a battle she didn't yet understand.
Lucien stood by the window, his silhouette dark and imposing against the moonlight. He had not left her side since the celestial visitation in the garden. His posture was rigid, but she could feel the tension rolling off him like waves.
"They are coming," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Celestia flinched. "Already?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice steady. "And they are not gentle. This is Heaven's first strike."
A sudden vibration ran through the floor. The silver flames of the fireplace flickered violently. The chandeliers above rattled as if reacting to a presence far greater than the mansion itself.
Then the front doors burst open. Light spilled into the hall — not sunlight, not candlelight, but pure, blinding illumination. Celestia squinted, shielding her eyes. From the doorway emerged a figure unlike anything she had ever seen.
Tall, robed in flowing white that shimmered like liquid light. Wings spread wide behind them, brilliant and feathered, glowing faint gold at the edges. Their face was impossibly serene, yet it radiated authority that made her knees feel weak.
"I am Seraphiel," the figure announced, voice layered with harmony and command. "Emissary of the Most High. I have come for the Celestial Pureblood."
Her chest tightened. "Me?"
"Yes," Seraphiel said, eyes glowing faintly like molten gold. "You have awakened before your time. The gates are not yet ready, and your blood must not fall into the wrong hands."
Lucien's stance shifted immediately. Every ounce of his presence darkened. The black flames flickered to life along his limbs, coiling around him like living shadows. "She is under my protection," he said, voice low but resonant, shaking the air itself.
Seraphiel stepped forward, wings folding slightly but still massive, shimmering with a blinding light. "Your protection cannot shield her from destiny, Prince of Hell," they said calmly.
"I am not here to debate destiny," Lucien replied, moving closer to Celestia, his dark energy radiating outward. "I am here to keep her alive. Do you understand?"
The emissary tilted their head, observing Celestia. "Do you understand what you are, child?"
Celestia shook, tears brimming in her eyes. "I… I think so. But I don't know how to fight them. How to—"
"Focus," Lucien snapped softly, his hand gripping hers. Power thrummed beneath his fingers. "You are stronger than you know. Your blood, your mark… they are your weapons, if you dare to wield them."
Seraphiel's gaze swept the room. "Do not force her. She is not yet ready. But her existence is no longer hidden. Others will come."
Before Lucien could respond, a wave of energy shot from the emissary's hands — not aimed at her, but scanning, testing. The air around Celestia shimmered, and her mark flared violently, golden light spreading up her arms and chest.
Pain surged. She cried out. The force threatened to throw her backward. Lucien caught her instantly, holding her steady. Black flames coiled around them both, shielding her from the heavenly energy.
The apprentices moved silently, ready to intervene. Adrian's eyes glinted with icy calculation. "They test her," he murmured. "Not to harm, yet it is dangerous."
Celestia gasped, trembling. "It burns… inside me…"
Lucien's voice softened, brushing over the edge of command. "Breathe. Control it. Do not let them touch your soul."
Seraphiel stepped closer. "You carry the blood of angels, yes. But it is incomplete. Half fallen, half sacred. You are a bridge — and all bridges are tested by both sides."
The words reverberated in her chest. Her mark flared brighter, wings forming behind her — faint, golden, incomplete, shimmering with raw energy. For a moment, she felt unstoppable. Then, fatigue hit like a tidal wave.
Lucien supported her fully, his dark presence steadying her. "This is only the beginning," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "If you survive tonight, you will learn to control it. You will learn to fight."
The room shook as Seraphiel spread their wings, the gold light illuminating every corner. "You will come willingly, or the Most High will take action. But be warned…" Their voice dropped, soft but sharp. "…the gates that Lucifer and his son guard are not yours to wield alone."
Her heart thudded. Lucifer. Her father. And now Heaven itself — ready to test her, challenge her, even claim her.
Lucien's eyes darkened. "No one touches her," he said, the black flames curling around him like living serpents. "Not Heaven. Not Hell. Not anyone."
A long pause followed. Seraphiel's eyes studied her, then the Prince of Hell beside her. Finally, they spoke:
"Then we will see."
With that, light exploded, washing over the mansion once more. When it dimmed, the emissary was gone — leaving a trace of celestial fire in the gardens, a warning that they would return.
Celestia sank to the floor, trembling, her mark still glowing faintly. "I can't… I don't know if I can—"
Lucien knelt beside her. His hands cupped her face, eyes intense and dark. "You can. You will. And I will be here — always. You are not alone in this, Celestia. Never alone."
Her tears spilled freely. For the first time since the mansion had taken her in, since the witches attacked, since Lucifer had revealed himself… she felt something beyond fear.
Trust.
Hope.
Even love — though dangerous, forbidden, and terrifying in its intensity.
Outside, the wind whispered through the gardens. The stars above shimmered faintly. Somewhere, distant but undeniable, Heaven watched.
And Celestia knew: the war had only just begun.