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Before Kael took his first breath, the heavens already knew his name.
They just refused to speak it.
High above the mortal world, beyond clouds and stars, beyond prayer and faith, the Seven Divine Thrones floated in perfect alignment. Each throne was carved from a different concept—Light, Law, Time, Order, Mercy, Dominion, and Creation itself.
For ten thousand years, they had never moved.
Until that night.
A crack formed in the firmament.
Not large.
Not visible to mortals.
But to the gods, it was a wound.
Golden light leaked from it like blood.
The God of Order rose first, his form towering, wings unfurling with a sound like grinding steel.
"Something has violated the cycle," he said, voice echoing across eternity.
The Goddess of Mercy turned her gaze downward, peering through layers of reality until she saw it—
A small, insignificant village.
A woman screaming in labor.
A child forcing his way into existence.
Her expression twisted.
"No," she whispered. "Not him."
The God of Time slammed his staff into the void.
"I sealed that soul," he roared. "I shattered it across eras. It should not be able to reform."
"And yet," said the God of Dominion coldly, "it does."
The crack widened.
Far below, in the mortal realm, the sky darkened without warning.