The stars shifted that night.
Not visibly, not to the eyes of men but to those who walked between the veils of creation, the sky's silent rearrangement was like a scream in a cathedral. Constellations moved a fraction out of place, and in the heavens, something ancient stirred.
Lucien stood at the edge of the forest, the chapel far behind him. His raven glided in circles overhead, restless. The encounter with the archangels had left him not bruised but unsettled.
They had seen.
And more importantly, they had lived.
A mistake.
One he hadn't been willing to correct yet.
He walked in silence, bare feet brushing over grass that leaned away from him. Animals fled his path. Not out of fear, but as if pushed back by a natural law they could not defy.
Lucien didn't know where he was going.
He never did.
His dreams guided him. And lately, the dreams had changed.
They used to be scattered images his mother's face, the fire she fell into, the demon's voice calling him from the shadows. But now, there was a new figure. A woman dressed in feathers and chains, her eyes silver like his, her mouth smiling but never speaking.
Every time he approached her, she vanished.
Every time, he woke with a name on his lips:
"The Watcher."
As dawn crept over the horizon, Lucien reached a clearing. The trees stopped abruptly here, as though afraid to grow past this invisible threshold.
In the center stood a monolith of black stone.
No inscriptions. No symbols.
Just smooth obsidian, humming with a resonance that hurt to hear.
Lucien approached slowly, instinctively wary.
The monolith was not from this world. Not even this reality. It radiated something deeper ,a pressure behind the eyes, like being watched by a god who had never learned the concept of mercy.
He raised a hand to touch it.
The instant his skin made contact, his vision shattered.
Elsewhere.
He was standing in a great hall.
But there were no walls. No ceiling. No floor.
Only reflections.
Mirrors that stretched endlessly in all directions, each showing a different version of himself.
Some older. Some younger.
Some monstrous.
In one mirror, he saw himself leading an army of horned beasts.
In another, he knelt before a throne of light, eyes hollow, wings torn.
But the mirror that held him longest was the one where he stood alone, older, cloaked in smoke, holding the Eye of God in one hand and the Crown of Hell in the other.
Behind him, the universe burned.
A voice echoed through the mirrors.
Not loud. Not commanding.
Soft. Feminine. Familiar.
> "So… you found me."
Lucien turned.
There she was.
The Watcher.
Dressed in black feathers, her face veiled, her skin pale as moonlight. She moved without sound, like smoke inside a dream.
He tried to speak, but no words came.
She lifted a finger.
> "You don't need to speak. I know what you want."
Lucien's jaw clenched.
> "You want to understand what you are. Why you were made. Why they fear you."
She circled him slowly, each mirror darkening as she passed.
> "But answers are dangerous, Lucien Vale. Truths come with cost."
Finally, he found his voice. "And lies come with chains."
The Watcher stopped in front of him.
A small smile curled beneath the veil.
> "Good. You're learning."
She raised her hand.
The mirrors shattered, glass flying outward in every direction.
But instead of cutting, they merged melting into a massive, single pane of light.
And in that light, Lucien saw everything:
A war before time, between light that had no name and shadow without shape.
A being at the center neither angel nor demon split into two to preserve balance. One cast into Heaven, the other into Hell.
Their reunion was forbidden.
But through a moment of weakness, or fate, they touched again.
And Lucien was born.
A being of both realms.
A child of the First Division.
The original breach.
The one older than God.
He staggered backward.
The vision faded.
The monolith was gone.
The Watcher stood before him now, not in illusion, but in the clearing real.
"I don't understand," Lucien said, breathing heavily.
The Watcher knelt, placing a hand on his cheek.
> "You don't have to understand. You just have to choose."
He stared at her, trembling not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of being seen.
"Choose what?" he whispered.
Her eyes narrowed behind the veil.
> "Whether you will end the world…
…or change it forever."
---
Behind them, the trees began to burn.
A ring of flame surrounded the clearing pure white fire.
Lucien turned.
Figures approached.
Not angels. Not demons.
But something else.
Hunters.
Men and women branded with both holy and infernal sigils rogues who preyed on beings like Lucien. Creatures that belonged to neither side. Outcasts. Threats.
The Watcher vanished.
The fire collapsed.
Lucien stood alone again.
And the first Hunter raised his blade.
> "Riftborn," he growled. "By the order of the Conclave of Thorns, you are sentenced to death."
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"I get that a lot."
End of Chapter 3