The sky roared.
A crack split through the heavens like shattered glass, echoing across dimensions. Storm clouds swirled in divine rage, lightning tearing across the sky with a brilliance that seemed unnatural—holy. The earth trembled beneath the might of what approached.
From the heart of the storm, a radiant being descended—wings vast and ablaze with celestial fire. Neither fully angel nor wholly spirit, the being held the authority of the heavens in his gaze. With a voice that boomed like thunder yet carried peace like rainfall, he whispered, "It begins."
He fell upon the empire of the wicked jinn—creatures of shadow, rulers of fear. Fire met fire. Light clashed against darkness. The angel did not destroy them all, for the Almighty's decree was not extinction, but judgment. The empire cracked, and with it, a single jinn was taken—lifted into the heavens.
That jinn was reborn.
In the Garden of the Skies, the child of jinn-kind was given a new name: Lightborn. Among the radiant halls and flowing rivers of light, he grew—not as a prince of fire, but a servant of the Most High. He prayed in silence and in praise. The cosmos opened to him, secrets whispered into his heart, knowledge that had been hidden from men and jinn alike.
But to rise, he had to be tested.
First came Zebrael, who stood at the gates of the celestial library and challenged Lightborn's will. In passing, Lightborn received the Scroll of Memory, allowing him to never forget what he once saw or learned.
Then came Mikael, who ruled over order and war. From him, Lightborn earned the Chain of Command, granting him the ability to tame chaos with his voice.
Azrael, the angel of death, came third. Lightborn was tested with visions of endings—his own, and others. For his courage, Azrael gave him , his one feather, to Defeat most powerful than him but not work on Angels.
Last came Israfel, the angel of sound and resurrection. From him, Lightborn received the Horn Fragment, which could awaken or silence, depending on his intent.
His final gift came from the Almighty—a sword forged in the heart of heavenly flame: Heaven of Fire. But even greater than the sword was the gift hidden in his spirit: the White Eternal Eye.
It was not always open. But when danger struck—when death came close—the Eye awakened. It gave him unbreakable strength, unmatched endurance, and a command of Orah, the heavenly energy flowing through creation. Orah moved through him like rivers of light, letting him shape power through will, thought, and righteousness.
Though honored in Heaven, Lightborn feared battle. He was peaceful by nature, humble, and contemplative. And so, the Lord sent him to Earth—not to conquer, but to teach.
To guide.
His arrival was silent but no less divine.
He landed in a modest village—a place where trees whispered to the wind and the streets carried dust and stories. His presence caused awe in some, confusion in others. He spoke of the heavens, of the One Lord above all. Some listened, their hearts stirred. Others mocked him, tried to chase him away.
Until he appeared.
A local man, foolish and funny, saw Lightborn and took pity on him. "Come, brother," he said, smiling. "You look like you've been cooked by the sun itself."
Lightborn followed. In that humble home, he tasted Earth food for the first time. It was… strange. Not unpleasant. But not divine.
He smiled politely. "It's… warm," he said.
The man laughed. "You're weird."
And for the first time, Lightborn laughed too.
Looking around, he felt something new. Curiosity. Wonder. A whisper in his heart said: This is why you're here—not just to teach, but to learn.
And so, the journey of the Lightborn began.