The world was quiet.
The first light of dawn stretched over the northern plains, painting the frost in gold. Smoke from the night's battle still curled above the ruined fields, but the air had changed — no longer heavy with fear, but trembling with something new.
Hope.
Arden sat on a shattered stone, his cloak torn, his sword Heavenbreaker buried beside him like a grave marker. The battlefield was silent except for the sound of the wind, whispering across the snow.
Behind him, wrapped in a fur cloak, lay Celestia. Her golden hair spilled like sunlight across the frost, her once-divine wings gone.
She was breathing — weak, shallow breaths, but human.
For the first time since he had met her, she looked… fragile.
Arden's golden eyes softened. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face."Sleep, goddess," he murmured. "You've fallen far enough."
Hours passed. The soldiers began to move, tending to the wounded and collecting the fallen.
Lirian, her armor scorched and blood-stained, approached with a grim expression. "The field's secured. The Voice's remnants are gone."
Arden nodded without looking away from Celestia. "Good. Burn what's left. Let no trace of their runes remain."
Lirian hesitated. "And her? The goddess?"
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "She's no goddess anymore."
When Celestia opened her eyes, the world hurt.
The air was cold, biting at her skin. Her body felt heavy — every movement strange and slow. She blinked against the light, confusion swirling in her golden eyes.
"Where… am I?"
Arden turned, meeting her gaze. "In the North. You fell from Heaven — remember?"
Her lips parted, then trembled. "I… remember light. Then… nothing." She pressed a hand to her chest, startled to feel the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. "What is this sound?"
Arden chuckled quietly. "That's your heart. You're human now."
Celestia froze. The words struck harder than any divine blow.
"Human…?"
She looked at her hands — trembling, pale, covered with faint scars and dust. She could feel everything — the cold, the ache in her bones, the burn in her lungs. Sensations she had never known as a divine being.
Tears welled up in her eyes before she understood what they were. "It… hurts."
Arden's expression softened. "That's what being alive feels like."
Later that morning, a fire burned in the camp. Soldiers cooked broth over the flames, sharing what little rations remained.
Celestia sat near Arden, wrapped in a fur cloak, watching the steam rise from a wooden bowl. She sniffed cautiously. "This… smell. It's strange."
Arden smirked. "It's food. Eat before it gets cold."
She hesitated, then dipped the spoon and tasted it. Her eyes widened instantly.
"It's… warm. And salty. It's—"
"Good?" Arden offered.
Celestia nodded slowly, a small smile breaking through her confusion. "Yes… good."
The soldiers around them chuckled quietly. Even Lirian, who rarely smiled, looked amused.
"Hard to believe she was a goddess," Lirian murmured.
Celestia tilted her head, hearing it. "Was?"
Arden met her gaze. "You're not 'was,' Celestia. You're still you. Just… closer to us now."
She lowered her eyes, whispering, "Then I'll learn what that means."
After the meal, Arden walked through the silent camp, inspecting repairs and tending to the wounded. Celestia followed closely, her steps unsteady.
She watched everything with wide eyes — soldiers bandaging wounds, a mother weeping over her fallen son, two comrades laughing despite their scars.
Every emotion, every sound, felt overwhelming.
"They fight… and suffer… for you," she said softly.
Arden didn't answer immediately. He stopped near a pile of broken armor, staring into the snow. "They fight because they have something to protect. I just give them a reason to keep going."
Celestia looked at him — at the exhaustion in his eyes, the quiet strength in his posture. She could sense it now, not as a goddess, but as a woman.
"And what do you fight for?" she asked.
He met her gaze. "For a world where they don't have to."
For a long moment, they stood in silence. The wind carried no divine hymn now — only the sound of mortal hearts beating against the cold.
That night, Celestia wandered from the camp, drawn to the moonlight reflecting on the frozen lake. She touched the surface — the water was ice-cold, yet she didn't pull away.
Arden found her there, arms crossed. "You'll catch a cold."
She looked up at him and smiled faintly. "It's… beautiful. The world. I never noticed before."
He stood beside her, watching the moon shimmer over the ice. "That's because you were always above it."
Celestia's voice trembled. "And now I'm beneath it. Fallen. Forgotten."
Arden's gaze softened. "No. Now you're part of it."
She turned to him, her eyes shining with something unfamiliar — warmth, maybe gratitude, maybe something deeper. "Then teach me, Arden. Teach me to live… as you do."
For the first time, he smiled — a real, unguarded smile. "Then I'll start with lesson one."
She tilted her head curiously. "Lesson one?"
He reached out and flicked her forehead lightly. "Don't wander off alone in the North."
She blinked, surprised… and laughed. A soft, musical laugh that echoed over the frozen lake.
It was the first sound of joy she had ever made — and the first time the Duke of the North felt his heart skip a beat.