Warning: The following chapter contains scenes that may be disturbing, including violence, sexual assault, and psychological abuse.
"All I need to do... is propose to Father the project: Angel Hunt," Aran said, unaware that he had already set in motion a path to destruction.
---
When Aran came before the Emperor Caelus IV, it wasn't just with words—it was with the living prize itself. Aurenya lay slumped in a chair before them, her breathing slow and shallow under the weight of heavy sedatives, wrists and ankles bound in steel.
With deliberate care, Aran unclasped the enchanted necklace from her throat. The moment it left her skin, the magic concealing her heritage dissolved like smoke in the wind. Her mortal guise melted away—wings of living flame unfurled weakly even in her sleep, their light flickering faintly in the dim chamber. Her skin glowed with a muted radiance, and a faint warmth pulsed from her body, soft yet undeniable.
The Emperor leaned forward in his throne, eyes widening at the sight. He stepped closer, the hem of his robe dragging across the stone, until he stood just before her. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, drinking in every detail as though beholding a holy relic.
"An angel..." the Emperor whispered, voice thick with avarice. "A real angel... hidden within my empire. This... it's a gift."
Aran's lips curved into a slow smile. "If they can cross into our world..."
"Why should we not cross into theirs?" Aran's voice sliced through the tension.
"Why settle for caging one when we can take the land they came from? The very heavens themselves could be ours, Father. And she—" he gestured to Aurenya's glowing form "—is the key to opening that door."
The Emperor's gaze lingered on her sleeping face, the greedy spark in his eyes deepening. The idea had taken root.
The two men stood still, their gazes fixed on the glowing figure before them, deaf to the world's warning voice screaming at them to stop.
And so the choice was made.
[Weeks later]
Aran wasted no time. With the captive angel already in his grasp, he petitioned to the Emperor to keep her under his "research" — officially, to extract the secrets of her land.
But the Emperor did not grant him that privilege. Instead, he decided to place Aurenya in the hands of his own imperial scholars, believing their methods and knowledge to be far superior.
Despite knowing she was the crown prince's beloved, he showed no hesitation. His greed for dominion over the celestial far outweighed any loyalty to blood or family. Word of the captive spread quietly through the highest echelons of power: the priests, the High Council, and the old noble families. One by one, they became complicit, each drawn by their own hunger for power, prestige, or profit.
---
Since then, Aurenya became a prisoner within her own mind, her senses a constant blur of sedatives and disorientation. Unbeknownst to her, she was a conduit, spilling the secrets of Antithesis.
With the Emperor's full sanction, the empire set its vast machinery into motion, preparing to breach the angels' realm.
Though among the weakest of her kind, Aurenya's blood was perfect for experimentation. The empire refined their suppression magic from the properties of the chaos-thread, testing it relentlessly on her blood.
[Months pass]
After countless trials, the empire finally created Rend—a dark, tar-like substance unlike any other. A mere touch could cripple even the mightiest Saelari, stripping their powers and making their blood human for a short while.
They forged an unnatural jagged rift in the veil between worlds, unlike the sacred gateways the Saelari knew. And through it, the empire marched forward.
---
The first invasion began in silence.
The Saelari realm awoke to a stillness that felt like an omen. Through the rift came the fumed form of Rend—a dark, tar-like serum transmuted into choking haze. It spread heavy over the land, and those it touched plummeted from the skies or collapsed where they stood. The heavens—their corresponding Trees—seemed to shudder, shadows deepening across the land, but the invaders pressed on.
To protect themselves from Saelari allure, soldiers wore warded eyeglasses, shielding their eyes. Those captured Saelaris were shackled and forced into masks that blinded their power. If a mask weakened, it was replaced immediately. Any who stirred were dosed again with Rend.
The Saelaris awoke to captivity, powerless and broken. The viciousness of men, laid bare.
The soldiers kept unleashing Rend—sometimes as fumes to sweep the skies, sometimes injected directly into captives. The substance, perfected through Aurenya's and other captured Saelaris' blood, didn't just force them into unconsciousness; it severed their connection to the Trees. For a brief moment, they became human—cut off from the connection of their tree.
The invaders didn't listen to any plea. They marched deeper, carrying their weapons and their sin, blind to what they had unleashed—and blind to the fact they were cutting down their own guardians.
---
For six more months, the war raged on within the small nest of Saelaris. Their number had always been six hundred and seventy‑three, excluding Aurenya, a constant bound to the Trees. Those slain in their own realm returned to their respective Tree, and new Saelari would be born.
But Rend changed everything. Once struck by its black venom, their connection to the Tree was severed. Kill them then, and there would be no new Saelari. Yet the empire rarely dealt such death. Every Saelari was precious. Dead ones were a waste of perfect material.
So the empire fought to subdue. Their volleys, their traps, their poisons—all meant to shackle. One by one, the Saelari were dragged into the human realm, far beyond the Trees' reach.
The strongest resisted the longest. But eventually, even they faltered against the never-ending volley.
In the end, only two remained free: Kaerila of Flame and Syralis of Frost. Together, they unleashed firestorms and blizzards in a final defiance, each strike a declaration that they would not fall quietly. But the empire's numbers were endless, replenished continuously, and Rend's flow increased as more Saelaris were captured. Arrows tipped with the black substance ripped through their wings mid‑flight, and they fell, then shackled in chains that sealed their power.
Kaerila's blaze dimmed and Syralis' frost melted beneath shackles forged of Rend. Their voices were silent now, their powers extinguished.
The battlefield grew still—with the breathless hush of something irreplaceable taken from the world.
The last of the Saelari had been bound.
Far above, the sacred Trees convulsed in a furious lament. The wind howled through the broken land, a wild wail carrying the sorrow of the ancient Trees that bind the Saelaris' souls:
[You have taken your protectors. You have torn the thread that binds the universe. Soon, you will face the ruin that follows]_they cursed soundlessly.
But below, the empire's soldiers celebrated. Their cheers rang loud, echoing like a mockery beneath the weeping skies. They raised their weapons in drunken triumph, blind to the cosmic mourning above.
In their revelry, they invited the darkness closer still—unaware that the cost of victory was a debt the universe would one day collect.
[Day of Aurenya's awakening in captivity]
Amid the celebration and ruin, Aurenya awoke in a sterile, cold laboratory, the fog of sedatives slowly clearing. By now, the imperial scholars had extracted from her all they deemed useful for their conquest. She was officially handed over to Aran—granted to him as a reward for his crucial role in making this impossible victory a reality.
The first thing Aran did was rip the enchanted necklace from her throat. The chain bit deeply into her skin before snapping, the broken links scattering across the floor. Her head jerked from the sudden force, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips as the last vestige of her protection vanished.
Without the necklace's ward, Aurenya's true form surged forth in the bleak chamber. Wings of flame erupted from her back. Her skin radiated a fading inner light, a beauty so profound it moved even the merciless guards to silent tears.
But mercy was not theirs to grant. They shackled her in iron chains and tore her wings away with sickening, violent snaps.
Aran watched these horrors with growing excitement, his darkest desires nearing fulfillment. Alden's protection would no longer shield his beloved; the Emperor himself had granted permission for her torment. The thought of Alden's face—betrayed and powerless upon his return—filled Aran's mind with a deep, twisted pleasure.
To Aurenya, the brother Alden had trusted, trained with, and fought alongside was now nothing more than a demon wearing the mask of a human.
Throughout the day, Aran watched as she was drugged again and again, her blood drawn and siphoned. From that blood, more chaos threads were spun—threads meant to keep the Saelari sedated and powerless.
As the day progressed, his patient eyes grew darker and darker with vicious desire, waiting... for his vile craving to be fulfilled.
[That night]
Silence pressed in outside the lab. The corridor was empty—no guards, no voices. Only the cold glow of rune-lamps flickered, casting shadows that seemed to hold their breath, and the faint drip of water echoed off stone somewhere.
Inside, the quiet shattered, split apart by the soul-wrenching screams of an angel.
"Alden... if Alden learns of what you are doing..." Aurenya cried out, laying half‑reclined on the steel lab bed, wrists shackled high above her head to an overhead frame. The cuffs bit deep into her wrists as she struggled. Her eyes burned with desperate rage while Aran slowly undid her clothes. "Alden trusted you!" Blood streamed down her arms from the torn skin at her wrists with each violent thrash.
Aran's gaze softened with a twisted echo of affection. "Aurenya... don't waste such precious blood," he murmured, as if soothing a crying child. His thumb swept lazily across her skin, smearing the faint trace of blood, before his fingers curled over her hands with an almost tender gentleness—the way a predator cradles prey before devouring it. His touch lingered along each finger, then twisted into a crushing hold, yanking her bound hands upward and sending a sharp jolt of pain up her arms.
He lowered his head to press a kiss to her knuckles and closed his eyes briefly, as if savoring some private thought. "Oh, how lucky Alden has been," he murmured to himself, before his voice sank lower, curling into her like venom. "But now it's mine. Everything he had" A low, self-satisfied chuckle escaped him as he moved closer and forced his lips against the shackled Aurenya's mouth, savoring the fire still alive in her defiant gaze.
Aurenya fought back, shouting, "Alden will never forgive you!" tears streaming from her blazing eyes.
Aran pulled back slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Did you really think—" His smile stretched wider as he closed the distance. His weight pressed down, crowding her in, making the steel bed feel impossibly small under her. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper in her ear, "That he doesn't know?"
Aurenya froze, breath caught in her throat. "Did... Aa... Alden... know?" The question escaped between gasps as she kept flinching beneath Aran's relentless grip on her writhing body.
Aran smiled sweetly like poisoned honey. "Think about it... Who do you think started all of this? He brought you here, didn't he? That necklace—do you truly believe he crafted it out of love?" His fingers traced her throat, and then the fresh, bleeding scars on her back where her wings had been. "He made it to capture you, angel. To hide what you were, so that you would trust us completely. You're nothing more than his exotic prize, his otherworldly trophy."
The lies cut Aurenya deeper than any blade ever could.
But she believed in Alden. "He told me... gasp..." Between ragged breaths and a sudden, searing pain, she forced the rest out: "...he doesn't pretend with me." The words fractured on her breath.
Aran's smirk deepened, her murmurs barely reaching him before fading from his mind as he focused on savoring every bit of her.
He had all the time in the world, after all.
---
Day after day, her blood was drained from her body. Every night, Aran came to her. At first, she struggled fiercely, screaming, "Alden will never... Alden..." But the constant drugs, nightly violations, and poisoned whispers slowly dulled her resolve. With each passing night, that light in her eyes faded a little more.
A few nights later, her voice trembled, fragments falling apart:
"Alden... said... he... no, wait..."
Then the mantra began to shatter, slowly:
"Alden said... what was it... what did he..."
Memory blurred further, slipping away with each passing day:
"Alden... said... something... or was it..."
The sharp promise she once clung to scattered like dust in the dark.
And then, one night beneath Aran's weight, the last flicker of rebellion died.
"Alden is the one who started...killed my...?"
A single crystalline teardrop slid down her cheek as her soul flickered out. Her gaze lost its focus, her defiance crumbling into helpless despair.
Aran, fully satisfied with her broken spirit, continued his vile acts. Like a gardener who plucks the thorns from a rose only to crush its petals in his fist, he savored every moment of twisting what had once been pure.
Aurenya no longer resisted. Her soul shattered like fragile glass. While her body was being defiled, her spirit—once clinging to a vain hope of Alden's promise to return—shattered, leaving her with only a blurry, lifeless gaze that shed no more tears.
And in her stead, the universe wept for its beloved, broken soul, screaming a curse that would forever cling to those who broke what wasn't theirs to hold.
[Weeks turned into months]
More Saelari bodies were fused with metal in surgical abominations to produce the empire's secret army.
And as days blurred into weeks, then weeks turned into months of unending torment, Aurenya's mind numbed, leaving only hatred and rage in her soul. The truth of Aran's words no longer mattered; pain had made reality impossible to grasp, turning the world into an indistinguishable nightmare.
But the agony also awakened something the Emperor's scholars had never predicted—something that would make them all pay for their unspeakable crimes.