APPREHENDED 1 - THE LEGACY

CHAPTER 1

GUARDIANS OF THE MORTAL REALM

The wind howled a mournful tune across the battlements of Argentum, the celestial city that pierced the heavens.  Evelyn Thorne, her fiery red hair whipping around her face, surveyed the scene below.  Once a haven of shimmering light, the heavenly plain was now a tapestry of scorched earth and shattered crystal – remnants of a war that had shaken the very foundations of existence.

Millennia ago, Lucifer, the most radiant of angels, had harbored a simmering discontent with the celestial council's rule.  Fanning the flames of rebellion, he rallied a third of the celestial host to his cause.  The ensuing war raged for eons, a clash of blinding light against churning darkness.  Though the loyal angels, led by the formidable Archangel Zeron, emerged victorious, the heavens bore the scars of the conflict.

Evelyn tightened her grip on the hilt of her celestial blade, its surface etched with swirling runes that pulsed with a faint inner light.  As a Pureblood, she was a living legacy of that war, a testament to the desperate measures taken to safeguard humanity.  When the celestial battles proved insufficient to shield mortals from demonic incursions, The celestial council had intervened.  Their solution: a union between certain powerful angels and select humans, creating a lineage of warriors known as Purebloods.

Invisible to most human eyes, Purebloods walked among mortals, ever vigilant against the lingering shadows.  Their senses were preternaturally acute, attuned to the subtle whispers of demonic activity.  Their bodies, infused with celestial essence, granted them superhuman strength, speed, and healing abilities.  Evelyn, a Proprietor – one of the twelve leaders who governed the Pureblood legions – bore the weight of this responsibility with unwavering resolve.  For generations, Purebloods had kept humanity safe, a silent guardian against the unseen threats that lurked in the darkness.

A booming voice, gravelly with age, echoed behind Evelyn.  "Still brooding over the past, Thorne?"

Evelyn spun around, her emerald eyes narrowing at the approaching figure.  Elder Corvus, her grizzled mentor and the oldest Proprietor, shuffled towards her with the aid of his gnarled staff.  His once-proud posture was stooped, but his piercing blue gaze held the wisdom of countless battles.

"Just reflecting, Elder," Evelyn replied, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance.  "Seeing the scars of the war always serves as a stark reminder of our purpose."

Corvus snorted, a puff of white escaping his gray beard.  "Always the dutiful one, aren't you?  Remember, even guardians need a break from contemplating the abyss."  He gestured towards the bustling scene below.  Pureblood warriors, clad in gleaming silver armor etched with intricate runes, sparred in the training courtyard.  Their movements were a whirlwind of deadly grace, showcasing the years of rigorous training they had endured.

"Look at them," Corvus continued, a hint of pride in his voice.  "The best and brightest.  Each one a testament to the delicate balance we maintain."

Evelyn glanced at a young trainee, a girl no older than eighteen, her face etched with fierce determination as she parried a seasoned warrior's blows.  "She's got potential, doesn't she?" Evelyn remarked.

"Indeed," Corvus chuckled, his voice a dry rasp.  "A firecracker, that one. Reminds me of you at that age, always charging headfirst into danger."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.  They shared a comfortable silence, the rhythmic clang of blades a constant background hum.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement caught Evelyn's eye.  A young Pureblood messenger, his face etched with urgency, sprinted towards the training grounds.  His movements were frantic, the pristine white of his uniform stained with a fresh crimson.  A tremor of unease ran through Evelyn.  Messengers didn't carry news of skirmishes with mere demons; they delivered tidings of significant threats.