In a hidden realm, veiled from mortal eyes, the angels of the seven churches convened in secret. These were no ordinary beings—they were celestial guardians, entrusted with the divine duty of guiding humanity along the path of righteousness. But now, something of grave importance had summoned them: a new leader was to be chosen. One who would bear the mantle of divine authority.
The previous leader had vanished without a trace, his name now uttered only in reverence. He had wielded the power of time itself—his words alone capable of striking down demons from unimaginable distances. No one knew where he had gone, but his absence had left a void that cried out to be filled.
Among those gathered, one name echoed louder than the rest—Alkea. He was the son of the vanished leader, a warrior forged by discipline, a man who had dedicated his life to honoring his father's legacy. The mere mention of his father's disappearance had once driven him to the brink of madness. And when his mother passed, his heart had shattered beyond repair. Yet, Alkea endured.
Etched across his chest was the Mark of the Arrow of Destruction, a sacred symbol of his lineage and a constant reminder of the great power once held by his bloodline.
The Arrow of Destruction was no ordinary weapon. It was an artifact of cosmic balance, capable of mending creation—or tearing it apart. Its tip, forged from the heart of a dying star, absorbed the very essence of those it struck. Legends claimed that, in the hands of the Nagid HaMalakhim—the supreme leader of the angels—it had once sealed the Abyss itself. Now, its whereabouts were lost to time.
Alkea trained without rest, shaping himself into an angel of war. He battled tirelessly against the demons that sought to corrupt mankind. Yet, victory was never complete. Humans were fragile—easily swayed by temptation, their sins making them vulnerable to darkness. The Devil preyed on those who refused to repent, twisting their souls into instruments of destruction.
But Alkea believed that if the Nagid HaMalakhim were to rise again, humanity would stand a fighting chance. That belief drove him. That was why he sought the title. Why he had vowed to surpass the legacy of his father.
As the meeting drew to a close, a heavy silence settled over the chamber.
And then, at the entrance, a lone figure appeared.
Akiva.
The moment the angels saw her, their faces twisted with scorn. Whispers passed between them like venom.
Alkea, passing by, sneered. "What does the wretched have to do with the holy?"
Laughter erupted from the assembly, and though her heart clenched, Akiva did not break. She never would—not in front of him. Her fists clenched at her sides, but she kept her chin high.
Akiva.
A name spoken in hushed tones across the seven churches. A name that echoed in human kingdoms, told to children as folklore. The cursed girl.
But she had not always been this way.
She was born of the Shekhinah, a lineage said to descend from the Cherubim, direct attendants to God Himself. Their souls were pure, untarnished, their spirits bound to the divine. Every year, they performed the sacred Ritual of Cleansing, where burning coals and songs of praise filled the heavens. It was a time of unity, a time when the air itself felt pure.
Akiva had been the heir apparent to Philadelphia, a city of beauty and abundance. Flowers bloomed in vibrant hues, rivers flowed with crystalline waters, and the land knew no famine. It was a paradise among the kingdoms, guarded by the most formidable angels. People called it the City of Light.
But darkness had come.
A demon had opened a portal to another realm, seeking to birth an army of destruction. And with it, the Arrow of Destruction had fallen into the wrong hands. A demon now wielded the power that once protected creation. The only reason full-scale chaos had not erupted was because of Alkea's father, who had acted swiftly. But the greater mystery remained—how did the demon know the sacred chant?
Only the Nagid HaMalakhim should have possessed such knowledge. And the last one had disappeared. The arrow was always safeguarded by the Angel of the Church of Philadelphia, and the only one who had known the chant was its former leader—Akiva's grandfather.
And now, he stood accused.
That day, he had been in the Chamber of Chants, teaching Akiva the sacred words, preparing her for the future. He had told her, "One day, you will lead."
But then came the screams.
When they stepped outside, two guardian angels awaited, their swords drawn.
"Gotham!" they called him by his name—a sign of disrespect. "You are summoned for trial. You shall be judged for your treachery."
Treachery?
His heart pounded as he was dragged to the Cananthrum, the place where judgment was passed. The accusations were damning—he had conspired with demons. How else could they have learned the chant? How else could the arrow have fallen into darkness?
Gotham pleaded his innocence, but his words fell on deaf ears. Witnesses were called, including his nephew, Utak, a man Gotham had raised as his own son.
Utak's testimony was a dagger to the heart.
"I saw him sneak out during the day," he said. "And he only returned now."
A lie.
A betrayal.
And yet, it sealed Gotham's fate.
The sentence was death.
His throne was stripped from him, his garments replaced with sackcloth. Chains bound his wrists, and a whip of fire tore at his flesh as he was paraded through the streets. He bore it all with silent dignity, his eyes searching for one person—Akiva.
When they reached the edge of the Fiery Abyss, the place of execution, Gotham turned to his granddaughter. He placed a ring in her palm, whispering words only she could hear.
"You will be Nagid HaMalakhim. You will restore honor to our name."
Then, with his final breath, he gave her his blessing.
Akiva watched her grandfather's execution with silent tears rolling down her cheeks, her small hands trembling as she clutched the ring he had given her. The world around her blurred, her grief swallowing everything in its wake. From that moment on, neither Philadelphia nor Akiva would ever be the same.
She was forced to live under the roof of Utak, her uncle—the man who had betrayed them all. No one knew what he had done, how he had orchestrated Gotham's downfall. He had always longed for power, and now, it was his. With Gotham gone, Utak was next in line as the leader of the angels. But Akiva knew the truth.
Utak had been waiting for this moment for years. He had envied Gotham from childhood, watching as their family trained him for leadership, pushing aside Utak's feelings as though he were nothing more than a shadow. He had listened in on Gotham's sacred teachings, absorbing knowledge he was never meant to have. Only the Nagid HaMalakhim and their successor were allowed to know the divine chants that held the balance of power. But Utak had stolen those secrets for himself, whispering them into the ears of demons.
And now, his son—Alkea—would be next in line.
Akiva despised Utak. As a child, she had cried in his presence, sensing the malice in him long before she understood what it meant. Now, she had no choice but to live in his house. She waited every day for her parents to return, but they never did. No trace of them was ever found.
With no one left to challenge him, Utak took his place as leader of the angels. But his reign was nothing like Gotham's. While he kept the kingdom safe on the surface, the means by which he did so were beyond corruption.
Every month, Utak sold the chants to the demons, exchanging divine words for peace. The people hailed him as a fearless warrior, a leader who kept the kingdom untouched by the horrors of war. They did not see the truth.
Whenever Utak rode into battle, the demons pretended to fall before him, grinning as they collapsed at his feet. The people of Philadelphia cheered his name, never realizing they were celebrating a traitor.
But the demons had their own plans.
They did not intend to honor their deal forever. Their goal was much greater than momentary peace. They wanted the Arrow of Destruction, and once they had it, Utak would no longer be of use to them.
The message arrived at night. A single scroll, sealed in black wax.
When Utak broke the seal and read its contents, he knew.
It was time.
At dawn, he rode to the demons' secret meeting place. They discussed the final exchange—the arrow for absolute safety. Utak listened, nodding along, but deep down, a pit of unease settled in his stomach.
He was betraying the Lord's side.
It wasn't that he cared about righteousness—he cared about survival. He knew that the moment the demons got what they wanted, they would kill him and his family. He had come too far to realize the truth too late.
What had he done?
For weeks, anxiety gnawed at his soul. He could barely eat, his mind clouded with dread. If he gave the demons the Arrow of Destruction and the Book of Forbidden Chants, there would be no stopping them. Another war would come, one worse than anything the world had seen before.
But Utak had a problem—the Book of Forbidden Chants was not in his possession.
It was safeguarded by the Angel of the Church of Philadelphia, locked away behind seven divine seals. No one—not even the Nagid HaMalakhim—could access it without permission.
The demons had tried to steal it before and failed. This time, they needed someone from the inside.
Utak was the perfect candidate.
He devised a plan. He would ride into the temple with gifts, pretending to offer tribute. While speaking to the angel, the demons would use a sacred weapon to break the seals and steal the book.
Everything was set.
The night before the exchange, Utak had a nightmare.
He was thrown into the deep blue sea, the cold darkness swallowing him whole. His body sank, his limbs too heavy to fight against the current. Above, he could hear the screams of his family—his wife, his son, crying out for mercy. Then, the sea changed. It became fire. His wife and child were cast into the pit of hell, their cries never-ending as demons tormented them.
He woke in a cold sweat, his hands shaking.
For the first time, fear gripped his soul in a way it never had before. He had thought himself clever. He had thought he could outmaneuver both sides. But he was wrong.
He was trapped.
Between the Devil and the deep blue sea, Utak saw only one way out.
He ran.
That night, without a word, he fled Philadelphia. He did not look back.
He thought he was escaping the storm. But deep down, he knew—he had only delayed the inevitable.
By morning, his disappearance became public knowledge. His wife, Athia, was the first to notice. She searched for him relentlessly, but there was no trace of him anywhere. As the weeks passed, her heart grew heavy with grief.
But she knew the truth.
A storm was coming.
For now, she did the only thing she could—she hid Akiva and Alkea.
She watched over them from the castle, knowing that if something had happened to Utak, it would soon happen to her as well.
But even she did not expect what came next.
The demons had learned of Utak's betrayal. He had gone back on their deal, and they were furious.
On a rainy night, they came for their vengeance.
They stormed his home, slaughtering everyone in sight. Athia fought with all she had, but it was not enough. She was killed before she could even scream.
When Alkea learned of his mother's death, something inside him shattered.
Grief.
Rage.
A hatred so deep it clawed at his soul.
He did not know who had done this. He did not understand why. But he swore on everything that he would find them.
That night, he carved the Arrow of Destruction into his chest, using a dagger as his blade. The pain meant nothing. The blood meant nothing.
He stood before his mother's lifeless body, pressing his hand to his wound.
"I will become Nagid HaMalakhim," he vowed. "I will find whoever did this. And I will destroy them."
It was the only path left.
The only thing that mattered now.
Revenge.