"Let's see… I hope there's some fate-changing treasure somewhere around here," a young man said cheerfully, his voice bouncing through the cave like a kid whistling in the dark.
His words echoed off the stone walls and vanished into the pitch-black tunnel ahead.
He had no torch, no magic light, no plan at all, really. Just a wide grin and a reckless sense of adventure.
He tiptoed forward with his hands outstretched, pretending he was some kind of brave explorer on a grand quest.
Each of his steps crunched over old bones and cracked rocks, but he barely seemed to notice.
"Ew. That didn't sound like a stick," he said with a chuckle, stepping on what might've once been a ribcage.
"Hope that wasn't someone important."
The cave was dead silent.
No bats or even bugs.
No hint of anything alive, but that didn't stop him.
He whistled a little tune, badly off-key, as if the silence bothered him more than the thought of monsters in the dark.
It was gradually getting colder, though. Not the usual kind of cold, either. It felt like it was sneaking into his bones, like the cave was quietly trying to scare him off.
"Alright, alright, spooky vibes noted," he said, pulling his coat tighter. "But I came all this way. I better find something shiny."
Most people would've turned around by now. But not him.
Maybe because he was brave or because he was a little dumb, or maybe because he was just curious enough to ignore the warning signs.
He stopped and glanced around with a sigh.
"Hmph. Not even a cursed pendant or a glowing rock? What kind of lame cave is this?" he sighed.
Truth was, he hadn't planned on crawling into a hole today.
He was out looking for rare herbs, some perfectly normal stuff, when he tripped over a patch of moss and nearly fell face-first into what looked like a rabbit hole.
But nope, it wasn't just a regular dirty hole. It was an entrance to something much, much bigger.
And now here he was, deep under the mountain beside his hometown, poking around in a cave that probably hadn't seen a human in a hundred years… still hoping for treasure, still smiling like a fool.
After what felt like an hour of wandering through twisty paths and dead ends, he finally stepped into the last chamber of the cave.
And that's when he saw it, a giant chunk of glowing red crystal, planted right in the middle like some kind of strange monument.
His eyes widened in disbelief and amazement.
"Whoa…"
The crystal shimmered faintly, pulsing with a dying light, like a candle flickering before it went out. And inside, he blinked and leaned forward, was a silhouette of a figure.
"A person?" he asked aloud, squinting.
He rubbed his eyes just to be sure he wasn't seeing things but nope, it's still there.
He took a step closer, his heart thumping now, not from fear, but from excitement. His young creative imagination was already running wild at this moment.
"Was it a mage?" he guessed.
"Did they do some kind of spell that went awfully wrong? Or… maybe they sealed themselves in to survive a super long nap?"
Honestly, he didn't know.
He was only twelve, and most of what he knew about magic came from bedtime stories and old folks rambling in the village square.
But he had a good imagination, and sometimes that was close enough.
He stopped a few steps away, craning his neck to look up at the crystal.
It towered over him, tall and smooth like frozen fire. The figure inside was curled up, arms folded to its chest, legs drawn in tight like it was trying to stay warm.
Then he saw the wings.
Not one pair or two, but three.
One pair was pure white, glowing faintly even through the crystal. The other was gray and the last was pitch black, like a shadow carved into the light and together, they wrapped protectively around the figure.
And at the very top of its head sat a crown. Not gold or jeweled, but jagged and sharp, like six broken thorns stabbing into the sky.
His jaw dropped.
"This is not a person," he whispered, eyes wide. "It's a bir-, no an angel!"
He can't believe that it's an actual angel. Like the ones from the old tales. The kind you only ever heard about when the elders wanted kids to behave.
"I thought those were just stories," he said, blinking at the figure again. "You know… like dragons and flying elephants and soup that actually tastes good."
The angel, if that's really what it was, looked wounded though.
There were gashes all over its body, some of them still glowing faintly. Long silver hair floated around it, drifting like strands of moonlight. And at its chest, right in the center, was a soft glow.
That must've been what was keeping the crystal lit… or maybe what was keeping the angel alive.
For the first time since he entered the cave, the boy felt a chill he couldn't joke away.
He took a step back. "Okay… maybe this is a little more than I bargained for."
But his eyes never left the crystal.
Just as he turned to bolt, the figure's eyes snapped open.
Deep crimson.
And they were staring straight at him.
"Crap," he whispered. "It's awake."
His legs refused to move. His breath hitched.
A sudden heavy pressure filled the air, thick and sticky, pressing down on him like a mountain had fallen on his shoulders.
Every hair on his body stood on end, and cold sweat dripped from his palms.
"I'm so going to die," he muttered, wide-eyed and frozen.
His thoughts stopped and his jokes vanished.
Even fear felt far away, like he was watching someone else about to be squashed. His body wasn't his anymore. He just stood there, like a moth to a flame.
Then, like a ripple in still water, a voice echoed inside his head.
"You're not going to die."
He blinked. The voice was calm, gentle, even. But there was something about it, something that made his spine straighten without meaning to.
It didn't sound human. It was like music and thunder and wind all at once.
So serene, ethereal, and powerful.
So… real and imperious.
"Huh?" he said dumbly, staring up at the figure again.
The angel didn't move. But its voice came again, clear and quiet in his mind.
"Yes. I won't kill you."
Then the crystal groaned.
Tiny cracks webbed across the surface, thin at first, like scratches on glass but quickly spreading, glowing with light from the inside.
The soft red pulse from earlier now turned sharp and bright, flickering like lightning caught in a jar.
He took a nervous step back. "Okay… so maybe I did find something fate-changing after all…"
The cave trembled.
Stone dust rained down from the ceiling as the cracks grew wider, glowing brighter, filling the chamber with a strange heat, warm but otherworldly.
And through it all, the angel inside just kept watching him.
Neither angry nor smiling, just watching and waiting.
Until the cracks webbed across every inch of the crystal, then, with a low, shattering hum, it crumbled into dust.
The boy raised an arm to shield his eyes.
When the dust cleared, the figure stood tall, barefoot on the stone floor.
He landed lightly, yet with a presence so heavy it made the chamber feel smaller.
His three pairs of wings slowly curled back, white, gray, and black, layering neatly along his back like folding curtains of light and shadow.
His body was unmarred now, glowing faintly as if carved by the hand of a god, graceful and terrible in its perfection.
Then, finally, he spoke aloud.
His voice was no longer just in the boy's head, it resonated, deep and layered, like a hymn echoing through time.
"An Epoch… I have waited for Epochs for this moment."
"Epoch?" the boy echoed, blinking rapidly. "Uh… that's a really long time, right?"
The angel gave a faint, bittersweet smile, his crimson eyes softening just a little.
"Indeed. And yet, it passes like mist upon the dawn…"
He looked at his hand, flexing it as though remembering how it felt to move. His expression darkened.
"My time is brief. This vessel, once forged of divine fire, now crumbles under the weight of curses and centuries."
His voice lowered, touched with sorrow.
"I am Luciel, first-born of the Dawn, betrayed by the One who shaped the worlds, and hunted by the serpents that coil beneath the throne. Heaven cast me out. Hell called me insane. And yet, I belong to neither."
The boy just stared, mouth slightly open. "I… have no idea what any of that means."
Luciel chuckled, a sound like silver bells in a storm.
"And yet, you listened." He stepped forward, one hand over his glowing chest.
"That alone is a kindness I thought long lost."
Then, without warning, his fingers plunged into his own chest.
The boy gasped, stumbling back in horror. "W-What are you doing?!"
Luciel did not flinch. His hand, now buried in light and bone, drew something out.
A burning shard, pulsing with impossible energy, neither flame nor crystal, but something older and sacred.
"This is my essence. The fragment of my soul, divine and yet fractured."
He held it out, eyes locked with the boy's.
"Take it, and you shall carry what remains of me. With it, your fate shall no longer be your own. You will walk a path where both Heaven and Hell will bare their teeth. You will stand alone... or rise as something neither can name."
The boy looked at the fragment. Then at Luciel.
It glowed in his hand like a dying star, beautiful and terrifying.
And just like that, the angel placed a choice in his hands all while cracks started to appear on the angel's body.
A choice no twelve-year-old should ever have to make.