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February 22, 2025
A.I. Generated
Before the first dawn, before the stars carved their names into the void, there was a choice. And that choice became war. He was the brightest among them, the favored son, the one who stood closest to the Throne. But he was not content with light—he wanted fire. He wanted to remake the order, bend the will of eternity to his own. And when he fell, he did not fall alone. His whispers became shouts, his doubt became defiance, and the heavens cracked beneath the weight of betrayal. But the Throne does not kneel. It does not break. The armies of heaven rose, not in anger, but in duty. Not in vengeance, but in purpose. Swords of flame, eyes burning with judgment, wings spread wide like shields against the darkness. They met the fallen in the abyss, where light and shadow were torn from each other in a war that never stopped. And now, the lines are drawn again. Fire against shadow. Strength against corruption. This is not a battle for a throne—it is a battle for the soul of everything. Because when the heavens go to war, the universe watches in silence.
