Heaven glimmered with an ethereal beauty, bathed in soft golden light that seemed to dance across the endless, tranquil fields. The air was warm and gentle, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, which created a peaceful, almost melodic hum. Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the atmosphere, the sound of joyful citizens reverberating like a harmonious symphony, their spirits light and free, untouched by sorrow or burden. Vibrant flowers of every color dotted the landscape, their petals glistening like jewels under the sun's embrace, and crystal-clear streams wound lazily through the soft green grass, their water sparkling as it flowed. Above, the sky stretched endlessly in a brilliant shade of blue, dotted with fluffy clouds that lazily drifted across, while radiant birds with shimmering feathers soared gracefully, their songs carrying the peace and tranquility that enveloped this divine realm. Towering trees with golden leaves swayed gently, casting dappled shadows that added to the serenity of the land. It was a place where every corner seemed to radiate harmony, a world untouched by time, where joy was abundant, and every moment felt like a soothing breath—soft, eternal, and perfectly in sync with the divine rhythm of the universe.

  As Orin, a small child with bright eyes and an infectious smile, dashed across the lush grass with his friends, he carelessly bumped into a sturdy figure. He looked up, eyes wide, to see the towering form of a man with an aura of strength and experience. The man, his face usually full of laughter and warmth, looked down at Orin, his expression unusually somber. This was Geon, a revered warrior and protector of the gods, who had just returned from Earth. Orin, confused by the man's uncharacteristic tension, stood frozen as Geon’s gaze, usually so full of light, now seemed troubled, the weight of something heavy on his mind. He was in a hurry, his steps quick, though there was an underlying urgency in the way he moved, unlike his usual joyful demeanor. Orin, puzzled by the shift in the man’s energy, could sense that something was wrong, though he couldn't yet understand the depth of the unease that had followed Geon back from the mortal realm.

  As Geon moved swiftly toward the Council Chambers, his mind churned with the horrors he had witnessed on Earth. The ground had cracked open like a festering wound, spilling forth countless demons—grotesque creatures of every shape and size—each more ravenous and malevolent than the last. He had seen cities swallowed in shadows, their streets overrun by swarms of monstrous beings clawing their way out of the depths. The cries of mortals had been drowned out by the guttural roars and twisted laughter of the damned, their chaos spreading like wildfire across the land.

  Geon’s sharp eyes had taken in everything—the skies blackened with winged abominations, rivers boiling as serpentine fiends slithered free, and titanic beasts stomping through the ruins of what were once great cities. For every demon released, the earth seemed to shudder, as if rejecting the corruption now spilling across its surface. This was no ordinary breach; it was a deliberate onslaught, a full-scale invasion that could only mean one thing: Hell was rising. And at its heart, Geon could feel something—or someone—guiding it all, a dark intelligence unleashing the infernal legions with calculated malice.

  His jaw tightened as the memory lingered. He had faced demons countless times before, but never on this scale. Never had he seen Earth so vulnerable, so overwhelmed. The gates of Hell had opened wide, and the balance that once held firm had been shattered. For the first time in an age, Geon felt something that had long eluded him: unease.

  Geon stormed through the radiant gates of the Kingdom of Heaven, his steps heavy with urgency, but just as the Celestial Spire came into view, his path was barred. A row of royal guards, clad in shining silver armor that shimmered like liquid light, stood firm before him, their spears crossed in unison. The golden insignia of the heavens gleamed proudly on their breastplates, yet their expressions were resolute and unyielding.

  "Stand aside," Geon demanded, his voice low but thunderous, a stark contrast to the calm beauty of their surroundings. His aura crackled faintly—battle-hardened energy bleeding through his normally composed demeanor.

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  "Forgive us, Lord Geon," one of the guards spoke, his tone firm but respectful, "but none may pass into the Council Chambers unannounced. The High Court is in session, and disruptions are forbidden."

  Geon’s brows furrowed, a rare flash of frustration darkening his face. "Do you not sense it? Do you not feel what stirs beyond this realm?" He took a step closer, the ground beneath him trembling faintly under his presence. "I bring grave news—Hell’s gates have opened. The demons walk the Earth. If the Council will not hear me, then Heaven itself will be blind to its downfall!"

  The guards exchanged uneasy glances, the confidence in their stance wavering at his words. For a brief moment, the light around them dimmed as if the kingdom itself flinched at the truth Geon carried. One guard hesitated, his grip on his spear loosening slightly. "You know the laws, Lord Geon," he murmured. "But... this sounds beyond mere news."

  "Then move!" Geon growled, his voice echoing like a clap of thunder. With a swift motion, he reached out, his hand glowing faintly as divine energy surged through him. The guards instinctively took a step back, their composure faltering under his sheer presence.

  "Tell the Council Geon has returned from Earth," he said, his tone now icy and measured. "And what I bring cannot wait. Heaven’s peace will not last."

  The guards exchanged one final glance before reluctantly parting, their spears withdrawing as the path to the Council Chambers cleared. Without another word, Geon strode past them, his pace unrelenting, the weight of his knowledge pressing harder with every step.

  Meanwhile, in the High Courts of Heaven, the air hummed with tension. The grand chamber—an expansive hall of radiant marble and pillars of celestial light—echoed faintly with the measured voices of the gods gathered in deliberation. Around a great circular table, shimmering like crystalline starlight, sat the Divine Council—gods of wisdom, war, justice, and life—each bearing a presence as vast as the heavens themselves.

  “This silence is unnatural,” rumbled Auran, the God of Order, his voice as steady and deep as the foundations of the heavens. “For millennia, Hell has been a ceaseless tempest of chaos, and now it has gone quiet. Not even the faintest ripple of its unrest can be felt.”

  “Suspicious, yes,” chimed in Lyriel, the Goddess of Dawn, her golden hair flowing like liquid sunlight. “But we cannot yet act on shadows. Mortal affairs ebb and flow with their own rhythms.”

  “Shadows?” scoffed Vyrkos, the God of War, his crimson cloak billowing as he rose to his feet. “Cities have burned, and screams rise in numbers that reach the very edge of the skies. There is no rhythm here—there is something more. I say this silence reeks of a trap.”

  The council murmured in agreement or dissent, their voices weaving into an undercurrent of debate. Some leaned toward caution, others demanded immediate action, but a cloud of unease hung over them all. Though they were beings of great power, there was a growing sense that something unseen was shifting the tides of fate.

  Then the great doors to the chamber burst open, and a gust of wind swept through, sending the light of the room flickering like disturbed flames. All eyes turned as Geon strode into the hall, his armored boots echoing ominously against the polished floor. His presence was commanding, his face set like carved stone, though his anxious energy was impossible to ignore.

  “Geon?” Lyriel blinked, her voice laced with surprise. “You return unannounced—”

  “Forgive my intrusion,” Geon interrupted, his voice cutting through the murmur like a blade. “But the time for formalities is gone. I have just come from Earth.”

  The room fell silent.

  Geon continued, his tone dark and urgent. “Hell has opened its gates. The demons have been unleashed upon the mortal realm. I have seen it with my own eyes—cities swallowed, souls screaming, and a force greater than any we’ve faced before stirs at the heart of it. This silence you speak of? It is no peace. It is the calm before the storm, and the Morning Star... he is rising.”

  The words hung heavy in the air, crashing over the gods like a tidal wave. For a moment, no one spoke, their radiant expressions flickering with unease. Even Vyrkos, always the boldest voice in the room, tightened his grip on the hilt of his war-axe.

  “You are certain?” Auran asked finally, his voice steadier than most, though a shadow passed through his stern features.

  “More than certain,” Geon replied, his gaze sweeping across the council. “If we do not act now—if we do not prepare—Heaven will feel the flames of war, and by the time we rise, it may already be too late.”

  The chamber sat in stunned silence, the gravity of Geon’s words sinking in. For the first time in ages, the gods of Heaven felt the creeping touch of dread.