Chapter 5: Breaking Heaven's Bonds

What force can break celestial chains?

What power cleaves through silver bright?

The heart that for another pains

Burns fierce as any holy light.

***

The lower chambers of Heaven bore little resemblance to the resplendent glory of the upper tiers. Here, in this rarely used detention area, the walls were bare celestial stone—still beautiful by mortal standards but austere and cold compared to the luminous architecture above. A single window high in the wall allowed a thin shaft of divine light to penetrate the gloom, casting long shadows across the floor.

Krad sat on a simple stone bench, the silver chains binding his wrists and wings glinting in the dim light. The celestial metal burned slightly where it touched his skin, a constant reminder of his captivity and the suppression of his powers. He stared at the floor, his thoughts consumed by the image of Kana's pale face and the knowledge of what awaited both of them at dawn.

The subtle shift in the air alerted him to another presence before the door even began to move. He lifted his head, expecting to see a Power sentry come to check his bindings or perhaps deliver some final pronouncement from the council. Instead, a slender figure slipped through the doorway, golden light briefly illuminating the chamber before dimming to match the somber atmosphere.

"Celeste," he breathed, rising to his feet despite the weight of the chains.

She pressed a finger to her lips, glancing back at the door as it closed silently behind her. "Zero is standing guard," she whispered. "He allowed me this one visit."

"Zero?" Krad's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would he—"

"Even he has his moments of mercy," Celeste interrupted, moving closer. Her golden aura cast soft shadows across Krad's face as she reached up to touch his cheek. "Though he'd never admit it."

In the half-light, her features were more striking than ever—the curve of her jaw, the depth of her golden eyes, the cascade of blue hair that seemed to capture starlight even in this dim chamber. Krad had always found her beautiful, but now, knowing this might be the last time he saw her, she seemed almost painfully radiant.

"You shouldn't have come," he said, though his eyes betrayed his words.

"If they discover you here—"

"What will they do? Hand me over to the Immortals as well?" Her laugh was bitter and sharp. "I'm already implicated by association. My loyalty to you has been noted in several celestial records."

She circled him slowly, her gaze lingering on the silver chains that bound his wings. With each step, her expression hardened, anger replacing the initial sorrow in her eyes.

"You're a fool, Krad Akira," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. "A selfish, reckless fool."

The accusation stung, but he couldn't deny its truth. "I know."

"Do you? Do you truly understand what you've done?" She stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her aura. "Not just to yourself, but to everyone who cares for you?"

"I couldn't stand by and watch them die," he replied, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. "The boy was bleeding out. The demon would have taken his sister next."

"And now the girl will die anyway, and you'll spend eternity in whatever torment the Immortals devise for you." Her voice cracked slightly. "Was it worth it? Trading our future for a few more years of mortal life?"

The mention of "our future" made Krad's chest tighten. They had never spoken openly of what existed between them—the connection that went beyond celestial camaraderie. In Heaven's strict hierarchy, such attachments were neither encouraged nor forbidden, merely... uncommon.

"I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," she cut him off. "You never do. That's what I've always loved about you, and what infuriates me most." She took his bound hands in hers, her touch gentle despite her harsh words. "You act from your heart without calculating the cost. You see suffering and move to end it, consequences be damned." A bitter smile touched her lips. "It's why you fell from the Archangels to the Guardians in the first place, isn't it? Trying to steal Michael's sword to save that village?"

"You remember that?" Krad asked, surprised.

"Of course I do. It was the day we met." Her golden eyes softened with the memory. "I was assigned to escort you to your new post. You were so angry, so defiant—your wings still smoking from where they'd been scorched during your demotion ceremony."

Krad smiled despite himself. "You called me a 'petulant child throwing a celestial tantrum.'"

"And you told me to 'take my self-righteous glow and shove it up my divine—'"

"I apologized for that," he interrupted hastily.

"Eventually." Her smile faded. "Three decades later, if I recall correctly."

"I was stubborn."

"Was?" There was a hint of her old teasing tone, but it quickly vanished.

"You haven't changed, Krad. That's the problem. Your heart is too big for Heaven's rigid order, but your methods..." She shook her head. "You leave chaos in your wake."

She released his hands and turned away, moving toward the small window. The shaft of light caught in her hair, creating a halo effect that emphasized her celestial nature.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" she asked, her back still to him. "I can't even hate you for it. Your compassion, your willingness to risk everything for others—it's what made me fall in love with you." 

The admission hung in the air between them, raw and vulnerable. They had never said the words aloud before, though both had felt their truth for centuries.

"Celeste," he began, taking a step toward her, the chains clinking softly.

"Don't." She raised a hand without turning. "Don't say anything. Not now. Not when we're about to lose everything."

He could see the tension in her shoulders, the rigid control she was exerting to maintain her composure. "You're not crying," he observed quietly.

"I refuse to give you the satisfaction," she replied, a tremor in her voice betraying her. 

"I won't let my last memory of you be blurred by tears."

She turned back to face him, her expression now carefully composed.

"Besides, crying implies acceptance. I haven't accepted this yet."

"There's nothing to be done," Krad said gently. "The council's decision is final."

"Is it?" Something flashed in her golden eyes—determination, defiance, or perhaps both. "The girl is dying because you channeled too much power through her untrained body. The Immortals want her because she successfully used summoning magic. But what if she weren't the only mortal to do so?"

Krad frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing," she said quickly—too quickly. "I'm merely thinking aloud."

She stepped closer again, studying his face as if committing it to memory. "You know, I always envied your freedom. Even after your fall, you never truly submitted to Heaven's rigid hierarchy. You bent rules, questioned orders, followed your conscience instead of protocol."

"And look where it got me," he replied bitterly, raising his chained hands.

"Yes, look." She reached out to touch the silver bindings. "You're facing an eternity of torment because you couldn't stand by while innocents suffered. There are worse reasons to fall, Krad."

Her fingers traced the chain up to where it wrapped around his wings, her touch feather-light against his feathers. "I've spent millennia following every rule, fulfilling every duty without question. And what has it earned me? The right to stand by and watch as they hand you over to the Immortals?"

Something in her tone made Krad look at her more closely. There was a resolve in her eyes he hadn't seen before—a dangerous, determined gleam.

"Celeste, whatever you're thinking—"

"I'm not thinking anything," she interrupted. "I'm remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"The day we met. How angry you were. How righteous." Her smile turned sad. "How I thought you were making a terrible mistake, throwing away your position for a principle."

She moved even closer, until they were nearly touching. "I was wrong, Krad. You were right to fight for what you believed in, even if your methods were flawed. I should have told you that centuries ago."

"Better late than never," he said, attempting a smile.

"No," she replied seriously. "Sometimes 'late' is the same as 'never.'" She reached up to cup his face between her hands. "Your apology will not be accepted here. I refuse it."

Krad blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You will make sacrificing us worth it," she whispered fiercely.

Before he could respond, there was a flash of golden light between them. When it faded, Krad's twin blades had materialized in Celeste's hands—weapons that should have been confiscated when he was bound.

With two swift, precise movements, she slashed through the silver chains binding his wrists and wings. The celestial metal parted like silk before the blades, falling to the floor with a musical chime.

Krad stared at her in shock, the sudden return of his power flooding through him like fire. "Celeste, what have you done?"

"What you would have done for me," she replied simply, dropping the swords at his feet. They clattered against the stone, the sound impossibly loud in the small chamber.

For a moment, Krad could only stare at her, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes. She had just committed treason against Heaven itself—an act that would surely result in her own fall from grace.

"You can't—" he began.

"I already have." Her voice was calm, accepting. "Now go."

Instead of fleeing, Krad reached for her, pulling her into his arms with a desperation born of knowing this might be their last embrace. She melted against him, her golden aura mingling with his blue one, creating flashes of emerald light where they touched.

"I can't leave you to face this alone," he whispered against her hair.

"You must." She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. "The girl needs you. She's dying, Krad. Save her, like you saved her brother."

"And what about you? What will they do when they discover what you've done?" 

A small, defiant smile curved her lips. "I'll tell them you overpowered me. That you stole my essence to break your bonds."

"They'll never believe that."

"It doesn't matter if they believe it. It only matters that they can't prove otherwise." Her hands tightened on his arms. "Go, Krad. Now. Before Zero realizes what's happened."

Krad hesitated, torn between his desire to save Kana and his unwillingness to abandon Celeste to Heaven's judgment. Then, making his decision, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that contained centuries of unspoken feelings.

Celeste responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his blue hair as she pressed herself against him. The kiss deepened, desperate and passionate, both of them pouring everything they couldn't say into this one moment—knowing it might be their last.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their auras pulsing with shared emotion.

"Celeste, I—" Krad began, his voice rough with feeling.

"I know," she whispered, pressing her fingers to his lips. "I've always known." Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Go, now."

He kissed her once more, briefly but with no less intensity, drinking in the taste and feel of her, committing every detail to memory. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back and picked up his twin blades from the floor. The familiar weight in his hands sent a surge of power through him, his blue aura flaring brighter as his connection to his weapons was restored.

Celeste moved to the door, listening for any sound from outside. "Zero must have moved further down the corridor," she whispered. "The way should be clear."

Krad nodded, sheathing his blades at his hips. He spread his wings, now free from their silver bindings, the blue-white feathers catching the dim light.

"I will find a way back to you," he promised. "This isn't the end."

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, a sad smile touching her lips. "Now go save the mortal girl."

With one last, lingering look at the angel who had just sacrificed everything for him, Krad gathered his power. In a flash of brilliant blue light, he vanished, leaving Celeste alone in the empty chamber with nothing but fallen chains as evidence of what had transpired.

She picked up one of the silver links, closing her fingers around it until the celestial metal burned her palm. Only then did she allow a single tear to fall, quickly wiped away before anyone could witness her moment of weakness.

"Make it worth it, Krad," she whispered to the empty air. "Make it worth everything."

* * *

The safety of heaven's ordered hall.

When duty yields to higher law,

Who catches angels when they fall

For love without a single flaw?