Chapter 1

The wind atop the Holy Light Platform cut like shattered glass, mercilessly tearing across the two deep scars on my back where my wings used to be.

This was my ninth Ascension Trial. My last chance.

Heaven's law showed no mercy: a bride who'd lost her wings had nine chances to fly beneath her betrothed's Divine Cloak. Fail all nine, and you were judged spiritually corrupted—stripped of your divine status and exiled to the Abyss for seven hundred years.

I'd lost my wings three hundred years ago.

I'd thrown myself in front of a fatal dragon's breath meant for Archangel Gabriel. My wings were torn clean off. After that, I went from Heaven's most brilliant war goddess to a cripple who couldn't even manage basic levitation.

I still remembered how Gabriel held my mangled body that day, his voice breaking as he swore:

"Cecilia, from now on, my cloak will be your wings. Even if Heaven itself forbids it, I will never let you fall."

Back then, I thought I'd finally earned his devotion.

Now I knew better. My blind dedication had only given him license to hurt me over and over again.

Gong—

The second bell rang. Moments until takeoff.

I turned toward Gabriel. He stood in mithril armor, the radiant Divine Cloak draped across his arm.

Just as I reached for him, a sharp gasp echoed from nearby.

"Oh—that hurts!"

Irene. Heaven's newly anointed Healing Angel sat crumpled on the white jade steps, clutching her perfectly intact wings, tears welling in her eyes as she looked our way.

Gabriel's expression shifted instantly. He released my hand and strode toward her.

"What happened? Did a wind blade catch you?" His voice was tight with concern.

Irene bit her lip, looking fragile and helpless. "Gabriel, I'm fine... When I was watching the ceremony, one of the guards' spears grazed me. I think my wing cramped. Today's so important for Cecilia—you two should go. I'll just rest here."

She said she was fine. But her fingers gripped his sleeve desperately, eyes locked on the Divine Cloak.

I watched it all unfold, feeling nothing but cold emptiness.

Over three hundred years, I'd witnessed this exact performance eight times before.

The first time, Irene claimed she was afraid of heights and felt dizzy standing near the platform's edge.

Gabriel turned to me and said, "Cecilia, you're a warrior—you can handle this. Irene's too fragile. Let her have the cloak."

That time, the storm flayed the skin off my back. I spent six months bedridden.

The third time, Irene complained that her newly grown feathers were an ugly color and she felt insecure.

Gabriel said flatly, "It's just a cloak. Do you really have to embarrass her?"

That time, I was struck by lightning and coughed blood until I passed out.

The seventh time, Irene whined that the cloak's energy helped her meditate. Gabriel handed it over without hesitation, then rounded on me: "Can't you be more generous? You're Heaven's war hero—can't you show a little grace?"

Every single time, he had an excuse to favor Irene. And every time, my boundaries were ground into dust through my own silence.

"Gabriel." I looked at him, my voice strangely calm. "This is the ninth time."

Gabriel's hand stilled on the cloak. Something uncomfortable flickered across his face before it hardened into irritation. "I know. But can't you see Irene's in pain?"

"She's not hurt." I stated it coldly. "The guard's spear was three steps away. And Heaven's breeze can't cramp a high-ranking angel's wings."

"Cecilia! When did you become so cruel?" Gabriel's frown deepened, his tone sharp with reproach. "Irene's never been to war. She can't withstand the storm up here."

Right on cue, Irene's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm so sorry. Gabriel, please—give Cecilia the cloak. I couldn't live with myself if she got exiled because of me..."

"Don't talk like that. This isn't your fault." Gabriel soothed her gently, wrapping the Divine Cloak around her shoulders.

Then he turned back to me, his gaze cold and condescending.

"Cecilia, you have military honors. Even if you fail, exile's just a formality. After the ceremony, I'll speak to the Council of Elders. Just endure it this one time. Next trial, I promise I'll help you across."

Wait for next time?

I stared at this man whose life I'd saved with my own body, and all I felt was disgust.

He knew exactly what punishment awaited a failed trial. Yet he was certain I'd swallow my humiliation like always, certain one hollow promise would keep me waiting for him.

The wind howled. The last thread of hope turned to ash.

"No need," I said quietly.

Gabriel froze. "What?"

"I said there won't be a next time." I turned and walked straight toward the platform's edge.

"Cecilia! What are you doing?" Gabriel's voice sharpened with alarm. "Without the Divine Cloak, you won't survive the fall! Get back here!"

I didn't look back. As the third bell's echo faded, I stepped off the edge.

Without the cloak's protection, the Holy Light Storm became a thousand cutting blades.

I felt my scarred skin tearing apart, blood misting red in the violent wind. The broken stumps on my back let out a sickening crack—then shattered into dust.

Pain like lightning tore through my skull. I bit down hard, swallowing the scream clawing up my throat.

Thud.

I hit the ground. It felt like every bone in my body had splintered. Crimson spread across the white jade in shocking pools.

Through my blurred vision, I saw a gentle golden glow descend nearby. Gabriel landed smoothly, the radiant cloak wrapped around him, Irene cradled safely in his arms.

He turned. Saw me lying in blood. His steps locked.

The shock lasted half a second before his face hardened into familiar arrogance. He stepped closer, looking down at me with cold disapproval:

"What kind of stunt are you pulling? Dropping your shields to throw yourself down like this—you think hurting yourself will turn the gods against Irene? Cecilia, you're disappointing me."

I lay on the freezing jade, staring at that face I'd once loved beyond reason. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh.

Three hundred years of dignity and devotion. In this moment, it all felt like some absurd joke.

I ignored his accusation. Swallowed the blood pooling in my throat. Then I used my shredded arms to push myself off the ground, dragging my broken body upright inch by agonizing inch. Shattered ribs ground together inside me with sickening friction.

I waved off the Discipline Guard's outstretched hand and forced myself forward, leaving a long smear of blood across the sacred steps.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gabriel finally sensed something slipping away, frowning as he reached for me.

I sidestepped. Didn't spare him a glance.

"To the Tribunal," I heard myself say, voice hoarse but steady. "To accept my exile."

The moment I pushed open those doors, I knew—I'd locked that foolish version of Cecilia away forever on the other side.