"LLOYD! LLOYD!! LLOOOYYD!!!!"
A familiar voice echoed through the corridors, bouncing off the stone walls. It was none other than Cyra, who attempted to fly her way toward her brother's quarters. Her wings beat wildly as she struggled to stay aloft. Every time she gained height, she would quickly lose balance and plummet, catching herself just before hitting the ground. Her flight was like that of a newborn butterfly—unsteady and unsure.
Lloyd, who had just come out of his quarters, was busy fastening the top clasp of his sleek black robe, adorned with intricate red trim that shimmered faintly. The dark fabric seemed to absorb light, while the red accents added a touch of elegance. For some reason, the top clasp always gave him trouble, and frustration was written across his face. A few meters ahead, Cyra was still wobbling in the air, her face set in determined concentration.
“Look up!” Cyra called out, her voice slicing through the silence.
“Wait a sec!” Lloyd called back, his tone exasperated but unable to hide his amusement at her antics.
Cyra whined, "Come on!"
“Sheesh, I’m coming!” Lloyd finally said. He gave a satisfied hum as the clasp slipped into place and moved on to adjust his collar, smoothing out any stubborn wrinkles.
Cyra rolled her eyes and focused on keeping herself steady, her wings pumping rhythmically now as she managed to hover mid-air.
"This better be good, Cyra," Lloyd finally said, looking up—and stopping to gape. She hovered, still swaying a bit but more stable than before.
“Surprise!” Cyra beamed, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Guess what? Angels actually can fly! Who knew?”
Lloyd blinked, dumbfounded. “Didn’t you know that before?”
“Uhh… yeah? I figured the wings were just... there, like Devil wings—decorative.”
She tried to land gracefully but miscalculated, falling with a soft thud. Fortunately, it wasn’t far. She dusted herself off, wings flaring behind her in restless bursts. “You know? Like Devils. All show, no function.”
Lloyd whispered under his breath, “Wow...”
Unfortunately for him, Cyra heard that. “What? Mesmerized by my abilities?” she teased, proudly fanning her wings.
“To be frank, I am mesmerized,” Lloyd said, stepping back to avoid getting wing-slapped.
“Of course you are—”
“By how dense you are,” he finished flatly, his expression deadpan.
"Rude."
Facepalming, Lloyd muttered, “At this rate, mastering your right side might take you a few more centuries.” He grabbed her wrist, locking eyes with her.
Cyra immediately recognized what was about to happen. “Hey! Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you can teleport me wherever you want. I can do that myself too, you know!”
Lloyd smirked—and teleported her anyway.
In a whirl of gray, they arrived at the palace library.
The grand, high-ceilinged room was filled with towering shelves of ancient tomes and dusty scrolls. The wooden bookcases stretched up toward the vaulted ceiling, their surfaces carved with intricate designs of mythical creatures and mystical symbols. Frescoes above depicted scenes of Angels and Devils locked in battle, bathed in a soft, golden glow.
Cyra, having expected this destination, looked around, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes.
“What are we doing here? And where are you going?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
Lloyd, having already let go of her hand, was heading toward an enormous section marked The Supernatural in bold, golden letters. The massive collection stretched across the entire chamber like a river of knowledge. Each area was organized into sections, each dedicated to a different facet of the Supernatural world.
Without hesitation, he made his way to the subsection marked The Angels, his eyes scanning the titles with practiced ease. His fingers brushed lightly over the book spines as he searched for a particular volume. After a few moments, his hand paused on a leather-bound tome adorned with silver filigree. With a soft creak, he pulled it from the shelf.
Cyra remained where she stood, narrowing her eyes at her brother, who seemed completely absorbed in skimming through a book she didn’t recognize. 'Just what is he up to now?' she thought, her mind spinning with possibilities.
Lloyd finally closed the book and approached her. Without a word, he grasped her wrist once again — much to her growing annoyance — and led her toward one of the many ornate desks scattered throughout the vast library. The desks were crafted from dark, polished wood, their surfaces smooth and refined. Matching high-backed chairs with velvet cushions sat like silent sentinels beside them.
With a gentle but firm nudge, Lloyd sat her down on one of the chairs.
“Lloyd, what are you—” Cyra began, but her question was interrupted by the solid thud of the book hitting the desk.
“Read this,” Lloyd instructed, his tone calm but leaving no room for debate. He pointed at the heavy tome he had just dropped before her.
Cyra squinted at him suspiciously as he moved to sit across the table. “Why?” she demanded, a tinge of frustration in her voice.
“Don’t ask. Just read,” Lloyd replied, locking eyes with her. “I’ll be right here.”
He sat down across from her, pulled out another book titled 'The Infernal Compendium' and dove into its pages without further comment.
“…Okay, I guess,” Cyra muttered under her breath, eyeing him warily. She glanced down at the title of the book in front of her: The Angelic Hierarchy: A Guide to the Levels and Abilities of Angels.
“Levels? Angels have levels?” she whispered in disbelief. “Just like Devils. They’re way more similar than I thought.”
“Yet we’re entirely different,” Lloyd suddenly interjected, making Cyra jolt slightly.
“Oh now you talk,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.
Lloyd simply raised an eyebrow at her, making her sweat drop under his silent stare.
“Alright, alright, I’ll read…” she mumbled, turning her attention back to the book.
Lloyd returned to his reading, eyes gliding smoothly across the text like a machine programmed for research. Meanwhile, Cyra cracked open The Angelic Hierarchy: A Guide to the Levels and Abilities of Angels, curiosity bubbling inside her.
The very first page read:
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Angels...
Beings of pure essence, born from light itself. They reside in Heaven, a realm suspended high within the Afterlife — a sanctuary reserved only for souls of unshakable virtue. Shimmering clouds, radiant cities of crystal, and endless towers of golden light form their eternal home.
But even within this paradise, there exists an order — a strict hierarchy of power and purpose.
Healing — the gift of restoration.
More than simple regeneration, healing is the lifeblood of angelic existence. With it, an Angel can repair not only physical wounds but also restore balance to their very essence. Yet, this gift is not equal among them.
The higher the level, the greater the power.
At the lowest ranks, healing is limited to minor wounds. But among the high orders — the Archangels, Cherubim, and Seraphim — even mortal death can sometimes be reversed.
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Flight — their birthright.
Wings are not mere decoration. Even newly ascended Angels glide effortlessly through Heaven's open skies. Their wings beat in perfect harmony with the realm’s energy — fluid, instinctive, and beautiful.
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Teleportation — the forbidden luxury.
Instantaneous travel across realms is not for all. Only the most elite — the Seraphim, the Cherubim, and the Ruler of Heaven — possess the ability to shift between dimensions at will. This ability demands absolute mastery over both energy and balance.
To misuse it is to risk annihilation.
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As Cyra read, her eyes grew wider with each line. This wasn’t just knowledge — it was a glimpse into a world she was still struggling to claim as her own.
'Healing tied to levels...' she thought. 'So the stronger I get, the faster I can recover. And flying’s natural? That explains the wings. But teleportation? That’s even rarer than I thought.'
She glanced at Lloyd across the table. His expression was unreadable — focused entirely on his own book, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was quietly gauging her reaction.
'I guess I’ll have to thank him for making me read this... later.' A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
A thought suddenly sparked in Cyra's mind. She glanced up from her reading, curiosity burning in her heterochromatic eyes.
“Hey, Lloyd…” she began. “Do you think Devils of the highest level can fly?”
Lloyd barely glanced up from 'The Infernal Compendium', his lips curving into a faint smirk. “You really need to read more, don’t you?” His tone was teasing, light, but carried that familiar older-brother edge.
Cyra’s face dropped. She’d hoped for a real answer. She pouted slightly, folding her arms. “Seriously?”
Lloyd closed his book partway, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m not going to tell you,” he said, voice calm but playful.
“Ugh…” Cyra groaned, slumping in her chair. She threw him a half-hearted glare, knowing full well he enjoyed watching her squirm. But it was never truly malicious — just classic Lloyd being Lloyd.
With a determined glance, she forced her attention back onto the book.
'Fine. If he won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself.'
Her eyes darted across the pages with renewed focus. The deeper she read, the more fascinating the world of Angels and Devils became. And Lloyd’s silence only made her want to uncover every secret even faster.
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Angels, renowned for their benevolence, were never designed for battle. Their kind hearts and peaceful nature made them easy prey for their sworn enemies — Devils who thrived on chaos and destruction. For centuries, angelic forces were overwhelmed, their numbers thinning with each devastating encounter. Even with their remarkable healing abilities, which could mend their essence and wounds, they remained vulnerable to the Devils’ ruthless cunning.
That all changed with the rise of Queen Heralé — the first true ruler of the Angels.
Unlike her predecessors, Queen Heralé recognized that mercy alone would never protect her people. She forged a new path, one that would forever change the fate of her kind. Under her rule, a special order was born — the Archangels.
These elite warriors were not ordinary angels. They underwent relentless training, mastering specialized weapons with precision and lethal grace. Swords that shimmered with divine energy. Bows whose arrows sang with celestial power. Under Queen Heralé’s leadership, the Archangels became the first true angelic defenders — strong enough to stand against the Devils’ onslaught.
As centuries passed, the Archangels grew in power, and for the first time, Angels began to turn the tide of war. No longer helpless, they stood as equals — and at times, even superior — to the Devils they once feared.
All of it was made possible by the creation of the angelic hierarchy — a carefully structured system dividing their kind into ranks and levels, each with unique abilities and strengths that reflected their role in the celestial order...
»»———————- ♔ ———————-««
Cyra: "Just because you're my older brother doesn't give you permission to teleport me wherever you want."
Lloyd: "Oh, but it does. It's in the Big Brother Handbook, section 3, subsection 7: 'Teleporting your sibling is allowed, especially when they're being extra'."
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[A/N]: Idk why I stopped here to be honest...
And yes, this is one veryyy loooong flashback. This is the 9th chapter it's taking up lol
Thanks for reading! ^^
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