Author
Some encounters are mere chance.
Some encounters are choice.
And there are encounters—rare ones—that are written long before the first glance ever happens.
The meeting between Lucifer and Celeste belongs to the last kind.
It was impossible for his blue light to spill over human skin without creating something new.
It was impossible for her eyes to meet his without awakening a call dormant since Creation.
It was impossible for two worlds so distant to touch without the fabric of destiny trembling.
And that morning, while Celeste tried to convince herself that everything had been nothing more than a dream, fate was silently and flawlessly writing the next lines.
Lucifer walked among distant hills, his hands clenched into fists, struggling to contain the grace within him that vibrated with unrest.
The blue light pulsed beneath his skin as if it had a will of its own—as if Celeste's presence still lingered inside him.
He knew that sensation well.
And he feared it.
Because the light that had lost Heaven should never react with such force again.
And yet, it did.
For the first time in ages, his power remembered something akin to peace.
And that unsettled him in a way no archangel ever had.
But Celeste…
Celeste believed it had all been fantasy.
She did not know that as she moved through the cabin, her heart tight with longing for something she barely understood, his light still touched her from afar.
She did not know that the lavender scent clinging to her pillow was the subtle mark of the grace that had wrapped around her.
She did not know that the taste on her lips was the echo of an angel's forbidden touch.
And she did not yet know that none of it had been a dream.
But destiny knew.
Destiny has known since the beginning.
She awoke longing to fall asleep again—not to escape reality, but to return to the kiss that still burned as a living memory.
The human heart has an extraordinary ability to deny the impossible while desperately yearning for it.
And Celeste's heart that morning was precisely that:
It denied by logic.
It desired by instinct.
From afar, Lucifer felt the same.
As he stood atop a hill, the wind striking against his folded wings, he repeated to himself that it must not happen again.
That closeness was dangerous.
That her light could expose him.
That Celeste was far too fragile for his presence.
But reason held no power over what had happened that night.
And his grace—the one he believed weakened—did not lie.
It vibrated.
It called.
It yearned.
And the name echoing within him was always the same:
Celeste.
Neither of them imagined it, but something far greater was watching them both.
For when a banished angel draws too close to a human heart, dormant forces awaken.
And when a human touches forbidden light, Heaven and the Underworld tremble.
The breeze sweeping through the mountains carried more than cold air—it carried omens.
And while Celeste touched her lips, unable to forget the taste of a dream she swore she had never lived…
And while Lucifer stared at the horizon, trying to convince himself to stay away…
The universe prepared its next move.
An inevitable one.
Because there was no turning back for either of them.
The bond had been formed.
The grace had been awakened.
Light had recognized light.
And now, the Lightbearer and the young woman who touched his heart move toward the reunion that will change the fate of three worlds.
This is only the beginning.
The forbidden love still takes its first steps, tentative, as if learning how to exist.
But it has already been born.
And nothing—neither Heaven, nor the Underworld, nor reason itself—will be able to stop what is to come.
Because some encounters cannot be undone.
And this is one of them.