The devil was once an angel

Prologue: The Fall Of Light

The night was still, a deep and impenetrable darkness that stretched across the ancient landscape. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a cold, silver light over the ritual site where an air of tension and foreboding clung to the earth. The trees, gnarled and twisted, seemed to bow under the weight of the impending event, their branches whispering secrets to the wind.

In the heart of the forest, a circle of candles burned with an eerie blue flame, their light flickering in the stillness. Symbols, ancient and arcane, were etched into the ground, their meanings lost to time but their power undiminished. At the center of the circle stood a figure cloaked in shadows, his presence both commanding and ominous.

Malachai, the dark sorcerer, had been preparing for this night for centuries. His eyes, glowing with a cold and calculating light, scanned the ritual components laid out before him. Ancient texts, artifacts of dark power, and a tome bound in black leather were meticulously arranged, each piece essential to the ritual he was about to perform.

The celestial alignment was imminent, a rare and potent convergence of stars and planets that would open a gateway to the ancient realm—a place of untold power and dark secrets. Malachai’s ambition was boundless; he sought to harness this power and reshape the world according to his vision, casting aside the fragile balance between light and darkness.

A soft, chilling breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the faintest whisper of a prophecy long forgotten. The prophecy spoke of a fallen angel who would rise from the shadows and challenge the forces of darkness, a figure whose light would pierce the veil of night and restore the balance that had been disrupted.

Malachai’s lips curled into a sinister smile as he began the incantations. His voice, low and resonant, wove through the air like a dark melody, each word laden with ancient power. The candles’ flames flared, and the symbols on the ground began to glow with an unnatural light. The vortex above the altar began to swirl, its energy crackling and humming with malevolent anticipation.

As the ritual reached its zenith, the air grew heavy with the weight of impending doom. The gateway to the ancient realm was on the verge of opening, and the fate of the world hung in the balance. Malachai’s laughter echoed through the night, a chilling sound that foretold the chaos to come.

But even as the dark forces prepared to emerge, a glimmer of hope stirred in the distance. Unbeknownst to Malachai, a group of brave souls was drawing near, their own journey entwined with the fate of this night. They were determined to confront the darkness and restore the balance, their courage and resolve a beacon against the encroaching night.

The stage was set, and the lines were drawn. As the celestial alignment reached its peak, the battle between light and darkness was about to begin—a struggle that would determine the fate of all.