The sky of the Lower Celestial Plane unfurled like an ocean of liquid light, its clouds swirling in slow eddies that cast dancing shadows over the floating islands of the Temple of Clouds. The air thrummed with an ethereal chant, a chorus of celestial spirits echoing among translucent crystal columns and white marble statues of winged figures, their serene faces carved with an eternity of peace. The scent of incense hung like a veil, mingling with the cool breeze that carried the faint rustle of lesser angels' feathers. It was a place of absolute purity, an unshakable bastion of the Radiant Sky Sect where light reigned supreme. But that afternoon, a jarring crash tore through the harmony: a staggering figure emerged from the horizon, a blur of shredded wings and shattered armor, falling more than flying, trailing golden feathers like petals ripped away by a gale.
Kaelith, an envoy of the sect at mid-tier Divine Transformation, slammed into the portico's floor with a crack that shook the crystal beneath him. His wings, once radiant as dawn, hung like bloodied rags, golden feathers scattered behind him like an echo of his defeat. Celestial blood, a liquid gold shimmering with unearthly glow, dripped from his sharp face and chest, staining the polished floor with an accusing gleam. His armor, forged in the forges of the Upper Plane, lay in jagged shards, and his breath came in ragged gasps, slicing the silence like a notched blade. He fell to his knees, a trembling hand grasping the base of a winged statue, fingers slipping against the cold marble. He lifted his gaze to the temple doors, gray eyes clouded with pain but lit with a defiant spark that refused to fade.
The lesser guards, Nascent Soul angels in flowing white robes like mist, wielding spears of humming sacred energy, froze at the sight. One dropped his weapon, the metallic clang ringing out like a sour note in the celestial chorus, snapping the trance. "Kaelith!" cried another, a youthful guard with a boyish face and short, buzzing wings. He rushed forward, footsteps echoing on the crystal, and grabbed Kaelith's arms, hands hesitating as they felt the golden blood sticking to his palms like burning honey.
"Don't look at me like I'm a corpse," Kaelith growled, his voice hoarse but tinged with relief he couldn't hide. "The light… it's still here. Not like that damned pit of shadows. Help me, quick, get me inside." His legs buckled, but the guards hoisted him up with a mix of reverence and clumsiness, their wings humming anxiously as they dragged him inward.
The temple's chant wrapped around him like a balm, its ethereal notes sliding over him like cool water on a burn. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let the familiarity anchor him, his racing heartbeat slowing under the whisper of purity. He'd escaped the Eternal Garden, the grip of that lightning-wrought woman, and the icy echo still ringing in his ears like an impossible taunt. Here, in the Temple of Clouds, the light still reigned, solid and eternal. "Thanks," he muttered to the nearest guard, the boyish one staring at him with wide-eyed awe. "For bringing me back to something pure."
The guard swallowed hard, his wings trembling slightly as he nodded. "I never thought… You're Kaelith, the envoy. What happened to you?"
Kaelith flashed a bitter smile, teeth streaked with liquid gold. "Something you wouldn't understand, kid. Just… don't let them see me like this too long." His gaze hardened, and the guard looked away, nervous, as they guided him through the portico. The air smelled of incense and the crisp breeze flowing between the floating islands, carrying the faint rustle of swirling clouds above. For a moment, Kaelith felt he could breathe again, that the nightmare of the Eternal Garden was trapped beyond the horizon. But deep in his mind, Lyria's lightning still crackled, and the weight of her boot on his back pressed down like a verdict he couldn't erase.
The temple's interior buzzed with whispers as Kaelith crossed the threshold, leaning on the guards. Disciples in white robes, some mere Spiritual Foundation novices with short wings barely lifting them, swarmed like moths to a dying flame. "Is that him?" whispered a young woman, her voice shaky as her wings buzzed nervously. "Kaelith, like that?"
"Quiet!" snapped a guard, his spear humming with a warning glow, but the murmurs swelled like a tide. The disciples' eyes stabbed at Kaelith like needles, pricking his already battered pride, and he tried to straighten, only for a spasm of pain to bend him again. The guard to his right gripped him tighter, fingers slipping against the golden blood still dripping from his broken armor.
"Don't stare at me like I'm a beggar," Kaelith snarled, his voice sharp but unsteady, laden with pride that refused to fully break. "I'm Kaelith, still me. Just get me to the elders, damn it! This is bigger than your gossip." The guard nodded quickly, hastening their pace as the hum of lesser wings filled the air like a chorus of jittery insects.
An older disciple, Qi Condensation level, approached with a white cloth, her movements precise yet hesitant. "You're hurt, envoy. Let me—" she began, reaching for his bloodied face.
"Don't touch me!" Kaelith barked, swatting her hand away with a jerk that sent the cloth fluttering to the floor like a discarded feather. She stepped back, dark eyes wide with confusion, and he took a deep breath, the pain in his ribs a sharp reminder of every blow from the Garden. "Sorry," he muttered, more to himself than her, barely audible under the rising hum of whispers. "Just… hurry."
As they guided him down a crystal hallway reflecting light in dancing prisms, the whispers grew into a steady murmur. "They say something attacked him at the borders," a young voice said behind him. "What could do that to someone in Divine Transformation?" Another, deeper voice replied, "Maybe he overestimated himself. Always was arrogant." Kaelith clenched his teeth, the echo of Renn's icy taunt ringing in his head like a jeer he couldn't shake. His hand balled into a fist, golden blood dripping between his fingers, staining the floor with an accusing gleam. It wasn't just his body that was broken; it was his status, his name, everything he'd built in the sect over centuries. And those stares, those voices… they were tearing him apart again, feather by feather.
The council chamber was a ring of translucent columns capturing the sunset's light, bathing the space in golden and blue hues that danced like liquid flames. At its center, a raised white crystal throne held Liora, leader of the Radiant Sky Sect, at peak Celestial Sovereign. Her silver armor gleamed like a polished mirror, reflecting the room in blinding flashes, and her white wings, streaked with gold, folded with an elegance radiating absolute authority. Her glacial blue eyes fixed on Kaelith as the guards propped him against a column, his body trembling but held upright by sheer will.
Around her, five elders—all peak Divine Transformation—formed a semicircle, their white robes rippling with glowing runes pulsing with celestial energy. The first, Varis, with a long beard and a gaze sharp as a spear, stepped forward, his staff striking the floor with a dry echo. "Speak, Kaelith," he commanded, his voice booming like a gong that vibrated through the columns. "What reduced you to this?"
Kaelith took a deep breath, pain slicing his breath like a knife, and began, his voice teetering on collapse. "The Eternal Garden… a floating fortress in our plane. I went to purify it, as ordered. But it wasn't a common intruder." His eyes clouded as he recalled Lyria's Immortal Storm, the vortex of lightning that shredded him like paper. "I faced one of them… Lyria, they call her. Living lightning. She crushed me like I was nothing. My Light of a Thousand Heavens… she devoured it like a joke."
The elders exchanged quick glances, a low murmur rippling through the room like an uneasy wind. Liora remained still, her face an icy mask, but her eyes narrowed slightly. Kaelith pressed on, his tone rising with urgency bordering on desperation. "And then there was him… Renn, their leader. A man with a sound that chills your soul. They dragged me before him and his… daughters. Impossible creatures. One of fire, another of shadows, a draconic one… and—" He faltered, breath hitching as the memory hit again. "And Elysia. Radiant wings, divine light. She's an angel from the Plane of Gods, I swear I felt it in her aura. What's someone like her doing with that heretic?"
A gasp escaped Sereth, an elder with silver hair and eyes sharp as blades. "Elysia? From the Plane of Gods? Impossible," she said, her voice cutting but tinged with disbelief.
"I saw her with my own eyes!" Kaelith shouted, his voice cracking like glass under strain. "She was there, with him, calling him 'Father.' And Renn… he gave me a message. He wants our maps, our keys, the secrets of the cosmic weave. Said if we don't hand them over, our light will be the first to fade."
Silence fell like a slab, heavy and oppressive. Varis frowned, his hands trembling slightly around his staff. "An ultimatum? From an unknown?" he muttered, his tone thick with suspicion.
Liora finally spoke, her voice cold as northern ice, each word carved with precision. "What else did you see, Kaelith? Don't speak with fear. Speak clearly."
Kaelith swallowed, the memory of Lyria's boot on his back searing his mind like a red-hot brand. "They threw me before them like a trophy. Renn ordered my wings cut. If I hadn't escaped… I'd be dead. Or worse." His gaze hardened, locking onto Liora as if seeking anchor in her authority. "If we don't act," he said, almost pleading, "they'll come for this temple. For all of us."
The air thrummed with silent alarm, a hum vibrating through the columns and seeming to shake the runes on the elders' robes. Kaelith felt the weight of his words echo in the chamber, Renn's threat swelling like a shadow rising from the horizon.
Elder Toren, his wrinkled face and flint-hard eyes stepping forward, broke the silence with a laugh that cut through like a hammer on crystal. "A heretic beating someone in Divine Transformation? With monstrous daughters and a divine angel? This is absurd, Kaelith. Sure you didn't get hit in the head too hard?"
Kaelith straightened, ignoring the lightning jolt of pain through his ribs. "You don't believe me? Look at my wings!" he roared, gesturing to the bloody rags hanging from his back. "That thing dragged me like a dog! It's not a joke, it's an insult to our light." His voice broke, incredulous at his own tale and Toren's mocking laugh, but the fire in his eyes didn't waver.
Sereth crossed her arms, her tone cold and sharp as an icy blade. "The Eternal Garden… I've never heard of it. A floating fortress with power to defy us? Sounds like a tasteless fable."
"We know nothing of this," added Miral, another elder with a soft voice heavy with skepticism, her hands clasped beneath her robe's sleeves. "How can an unknown rise from nowhere and demand anything? And Elysia? A high angel from the Plane of Gods, serving a heretic? It makes no sense."
Kaelith clenched his fists, golden blood dripping to the floor with a faint plop that echoed in the silence. "I saw her!" he exclaimed, voice shaking with fury and frustration. "Her light was… pure, purer than mine. But she was with them, with that Renn. She looked at me like I was the intruder. I don't get it, but it's real."
Varis raised a hand, his expression grim but solid as stone. "If what you say is true, we're facing something we don't understand. But I can't believe one man and his… creatures can threaten the Radiant Sky Sect. We are the eternal light."
Liora watched silently, her gaze fixed on Kaelith as if trying to unravel truth from the cracks of his wounds. He took a deep breath, the memory of that semicircle of Deities—Lyria with her lightning, Zahara with her claws, Elysia with her impossible light—spinning in his mind like an unstoppable whirlwind. "I don't care if you don't believe it," he said, voice trembling with contained rage. "I lived it. And it's not a fable, it's a nightmare."
The council chamber thrummed with the tension of Kaelith's words, their echoes bouncing off the translucent columns like an unanswered challenge. The elders exchanged looks, their faces a mix of disbelief and sternness, as the air grew heavy with the faint hum of runes pulsing on their robes. Miral broke the silence first, her voice soft but pragmatic. "If this Renn is bold enough to demand something, we could send an emissary. Negotiate, at least temporarily, to gauge his strength."
Toren snorted, the sound ringing like a hammer on crystal, his staff striking the floor with a dry thud. "Negotiate? With a heretic who dares touch one of ours?" His gaze fixed on Kaelith, still propped against the column, golden blood pooling in gleaming puddles. "This isn't a request, it's an insult. We don't bow to shadows."
Kaelith took a deep breath, the pain in his ribs a sharp reminder of Lyria's boot, but Toren's words sparked something in him—a flicker of pride buried under fear. "It's not just an insult," he muttered, voice still shaky but gaining strength. "It's madness. That Renn… his sound, his daughters… they crushed me, yes, but—" He paused, swallowing as the elders' eyes bore into him. "But I was alone. I didn't expect… that storm."
Varis raised an eyebrow, his beard quivering slightly as he leaned forward. "Alone? And you still think they're a threat to the Radiant Sky Sect?" His tone was firm, almost mocking, testing Kaelith's resolve. "We're the eternal light, not a handful of helpless disciples."
"I don't know," Kaelith admitted, hands trembling as he gripped the column. The memory of Lyria's Immortal Storm still crackled in his mind, the lightning vortex that devoured his strongest technique like a candle in a hurricane. "That woman… Lyria… her power was—" He paused, searching for words, voice breaking. "Impossible. But here I am, alive. If they were that strong, wouldn't they have killed me?"
Sereth crossed her arms, her sharp eyes cutting the air. "And what about Elysia? You said she's from the Plane of Gods. If she's with them, that implies something bigger." Her tone was cautious, contrasting Toren's bravado.
Kaelith frowned, Elysia's name stirring a mix of confusion and disdain. "I saw her," he said, voice hardening. "Her light was pure, but she was with that heretic, calling him 'Father.' She's a traitor, or a lie. Maybe an illusion to scare me." His fingers clenched into a fist, golden blood dripping faster. "Whatever she was, they can't be that powerful if they let me go."
Toren laughed, a deep sound filling the chamber. "Scare you? A Divine Transformation envoy trembling over a shadow trick?" He turned to the other elders, his staff vaguely pointing at Kaelith. "Listen to the kid. He got spooked, that's all. Lightning and a sound don't bring down a temple."
"It wasn't just lightning," Kaelith growled, straightening despite the pain, his wounded pride flaring under Toren's taunt. "It was… a force I don't understand. But—" His gaze swept the room, the glowing columns, Liora's imposing throne, the elders in their radiant robes. "Here we are. The Radiant Sky Sect. What's a floating garden against this? A man and his monsters? I saw them, yes, but now I'm here, and they're not."
Varis nodded slowly, his eyes glinting with restrained arrogance. "Exactly. If this Eternal Garden had the power to defy us, you wouldn't be talking. You'd be ashes in the wind." He struck the floor with his staff, a dry echo punctuating his words. "We're more than one envoy. We're an entire sky."
Miral pursed her lips, her tone still soft but insistent. "Still, we should know more before acting. If they have someone like Elysia—"
"Then she's a traitor!" Toren cut in, his voice booming like thunder. "An angel serving a mortal doesn't deserve her light. If she exists, we'll purify her with the rest. This isn't a threat, it's a mockery."
Kaelith felt the weight of their words, the chamber's warmth filling his lungs as fear began to yield to growing certainty. "A mockery," he repeated, voice steadier now, a hint of sarcasm creeping in. "That Renn… sitting on his throne, making noises like an idiot. So what if Lyria has lightning? They caught me off guard, that's all." His lips curled into a crooked smile, fueled by the temple's security around him. "Here, with our legions, they're nothing. Let them come. I'll crush them myself."
Liora raised a hand, her gesture silencing the room like a blade slicing the air. Her blue eyes locked onto Kaelith, cold and sharp as northern ice. "You speak bravely now, but moments ago you trembled. What changed?"
Kaelith swallowed, feeling the weight of her stare, but he didn't back down. "I was there, alone, against them. Now I'm here, with the sect. They don't know what we are." His voice hardened, disdain growing like a flame. "Renn isn't here to hear me, to see me. I can say what I want, and he won't know. His threat's empty if he can't touch this place."
Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of runes. Toren laughed again, striking the floor with his staff. "That's it, kid! Let them come with their lightning and noise. We'll split them like dry wood."
Liora tilted her head slightly, her voice an icy whisper. "Don't underestimate the unknown. But we won't humble ourselves before unproven words either. Speak, Kaelith. What do you propose?"
The air thickened with anticipation, a silent hum vibrating through the runes on the columns as if the temple itself held its breath. Varis stepped forward, his staff striking the floor with a firm thud. "Gather our legions and raze that Garden," he said, his tone brimming with certainty. "If they're weak enough to let him live, they won't last a day against us."
Miral raised a hand, her voice soft but insistent. "Wait. We don't know their true strength. We could investigate first, send scouts—"
"Scouts?" Toren interrupted, his laugh sharp as a whip. "For what? Kaelith's here, alive. If they were a threat, he'd be hanging from their gates like a trophy."
Kaelith listened, his mind churning as the elders' words fanned the fire sparking in his chest. The temple's security, the glowing columns, the ethereal chorus echoing in the distance—all reminded him what the Radiant Sky Sect was. "No," he said at last, voice low but firm, stepping forward despite the pain cutting his breath. "We don't need scouts. Or legions. We can end them without lifting a finger."
The elders turned to him, their faces a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Varis raised an eyebrow. "Without lifting a finger? Explain."
Kaelith took a deep breath, a glint of cunning flashing in his gray eyes. "Renn wants our secrets, right? The maps, the keys, the cosmic weave. Give them to him." He paused, letting the words hang like bait. "But not the real ones. Fake maps. Routes to the Void Plane, where storms will tear them apart before they realize it. Or a portal to the Wind Cave, where the Eternal Wind Clan will do the work for us."
Toren blinked, surprised, then let out a guffaw that echoed through the chamber. "By the light, that's brilliant! Let the heretic drown in his own arrogance. I like it, kid."
Sereth frowned, fingers tapping her arm. "It's risky. If he uncovers the deception, he could turn on us harder."
"Uncover it?" Kaelith shot back, his smile twisting with a hint of venom. "He won't. I was there, I saw it in his eyes. Renn thinks the cosmos is his. He's a madman with a tune and a jade throne. He'll swallow the bait because he can't imagine the light would lie." His voice hardened, disdain fully formed. "And Lyria… that beast with cheap lightning. Let her drag him to hell when it falls. I don't care."
Varis nodded, his expression grim but approving. "A deception, then. Use their greed against them. It could work."
Miral crossed her arms, her tone still cautious. "What if they're stronger than you think? And Elysia? If she's from the Plane of Gods—"
"Then she's a traitor," Kaelith cut in, voice sharp as a sword. "Or a lie. Doesn't matter. They can't be strong enough to face us here. I was alone when they crushed me. Here, with the sect, we're invincible." His gaze swept the chamber, Liora's throne shining like a beacon. "Renn isn't here to hear me. I can promise them the sky and give them the void, and he won't know until it's too late."
Liora leaned forward, her glacial stare piercing Kaelith like an icy spear. "Explain in detail," she ordered, her voice a whisper that sliced the air.
Kaelith squared his shoulders, ignoring the pain, the plan crystallizing in his mind like a dark gem. "I'll give them a scroll. A map promising the Stellar Bridge, but it'll lead them to the Primordial Void's edge. The nothingness will swallow them before they can scream. Or we set a trap: let them think we're negotiating, lure them here, and when they arrive, our legions crush them like bugs." His voice trembled at the end, not with fear, but with a grudge grown with every word. "They'll pay for every feather they tore from me. For every laugh from that Lyria. Even Elysia will pay for tainting the light with that heretic."
Toren struck the floor with his staff, laughing. "That's spirit! Let them come for their prize and find their grave."
Sereth stared, eyes narrowed. "It's bold, but if it fails—"
"It won't," Kaelith cut in, tone firm as the temple's crystal. "They can't touch me here. Let them come. I'll bury them in their own ambition."
Liora studied him in silence, her wings unfurling slightly with a faint rustle that echoed through the chamber. "A deception," she said at last, her voice cold but approving, like a freshly honed blade. "So be it. But if you fail, Kaelith, your light will answer first."
He bowed his head, pain forgotten under the weight of his resolve. "I won't fail," he declared, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Let them come for me. I'll watch them burn."