In the age when gods still walked the heavens, there lived Pyrrha, the beloved daughter of Helios.
She was divinity made flesh — radiant as the sun itself, blooming with life, love, and boundless joy. Her beauty was beyond mortal imagining, her golden hair spun from pure sunlight, her eyes deep pools of warm molten gold. Riches and blessings showered upon her like endless summer rain. Trained with the tenderest love, she lived the perfect existence that every fairy-tale princess could only dream of.
For a thousand years she watched over the world of men from her golden realm, yet the more she observed their fleeting lives, the heavier her own immortality became.
She had everything, yet nothing.
She was surrounded by light, yet felt only loneliness.
In time, her paradise began to feel like the most exquisite prison ever built.
One day, the impossible happened.
The sun dimmed. Dark clouds gathered. For the first time in a millennium, rain fell upon her eternal domain.
Seizing the moment without hesitation, Pyrrha shed her divine form and descended to the mortal world as a human girl. Her hair shone like threads of pure gold, so luminous that a single strand could ransom a kingdom.
Her eyes burned with warm golden light, and she wore a simple white evening dress that flowed like moonlight.
The moment her bare feet touched the earth, she danced.
She twirled and laughed beneath the pouring rain like a child given her heart's greatest desire, unbothered by the storm soaking her gown. While mortals scrambled for shelter, she spun freely, arms wide open, as if the sky itself had finally answered her prayers.
But happiness, when granted too freely, often carries a cruel price.
Her innocent wish — "If only it could rain forever" — was heard.
The rain did not stop. It became a deluge. Rivers swelled into raging torrents. Villages drowned. Countless souls perished in the flood. Humans cried out to the gods for mercy, but the only one who answered was Thanatos, the silent collector of souls.
Only then did Pyrrha understand the bitter irony: in chasing her own happiness, she had become the architect of others' suffering.
Heartbroken, she prayed again.
This time, Triton — son of Poseidon, the ancient and cold god of the seas — answered. He appeared before her in human form, his silver-white hair cascading like moonlight upon waves, his eyes the deep, unforgiving blue of forgotten oceans.
Deeply displeased at being roused from his eternal slumber, he nevertheless calmed the endless storm with a mere gesture. The floods receded, though it took mortals many generations to heal what had been lost.
After that day, Pyrrha withdrew from watching over humanity. She spent her time in hidden sacred gardens, speaking with flowers, laughing with elves, and befriending birds. It was there, in the private grove that belonged solely to Triton, that their fates intertwined once more.
The moment she turned to face him, the usually stoic sea god was struck speechless.
"You… You're beautiful," he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them.
Embarrassed by his own vulnerability, he vanished instantly.
Yet he could not stay away.
Night after night, he watched her from the shadows of the trees — this radiant daughter of the sun who danced with such effortless grace that even the wind seemed to pause in reverence. He, who had known nothing but cold depths and silence, found himself hopelessly captivated by her warmth.
When Pyrrha finally discovered him watching, she did not scold or reject him. Instead, she smiled and invited him to stay. From that day forward, they became inseparable.
They wandered the gardens together, spoke of stars and seas, and cared for one another with a tenderness neither had ever known.
In time, friendship blossomed into profound love. Triton, cold to the world but gentle only with her, and Pyrrha, whose light had finally found its perfect match in his quiet strength. They confessed their feelings beneath a sky painted with sunset fire and dreamed of leaving everything behind to be together.
But the gods do not easily release what belongs to them.
Their love was tested by divine laws, jealous deities, and the eternal clash between sun and sea. Yet through every trial, they stood side by side, their bond growing only stronger.
In the end, they earned the right to remain together. Their union brought blessings upon the mortal world — flowers bloomed brighter, rivers ran clearer, and even the heavens seemed to smile upon their love.
They lived many joyful years and were blessed with three sons, each carrying the mingled light of sun and sea.
But fate, as the old myths warn, is rarely kind to those who dare defy the heavens.
It was only when the realms of gods and shadows clashed in cosmic turmoil that Pyrrha's path crossed with Lilith and Velmira — twin sisters of Egyptian blood, both bound as subjects to the Devil himself.
Lilith was heavy with child, carrying the Devil's offspring in her womb
She loved him with a devotion as fierce as it was tragic. In return, she received only cruelty and indifference. Yet her love ran so deep that she begged for one final mercy: to bear his child before her end. The Devil, in his cold detachment, granted her wish — not out of affection, but so she might vanish from his sight. For though he showed no mercy to his subjects, he did not truly hate her. He simply believed himself unworthy of happiness, let alone something as fragile and foreign as family.
Despite Velmira's desperate warnings to rid herself of the child, Lilith refused.
She carried the baby with quiet defiance, her beauty shining like stars scattered across the night sky. Her long, silky dark gray hair cascaded like midnight silk, and her eyes were pools of endless black. Velmira, identical in face but distinguished by her obsidian-black hair, burned with resentment.
She hated the child growing inside her sister — the living proof of Lilith's foolish love for a being so demonic and cruel.
Amid the chaos of the divine war, Pyrrha and Lilith found unexpected friendship. They bonded across the divide of their worlds, speaking softly as sisters might. Lilith, radiant as ever, wore veiled garments that gracefully revealed her own swelling belly. Lilith's beauty glowed with quiet maternal strength.
When Lilith finally gave birth, the boy was the spitting image of his father — jet-black hair, obsidian eyes, and a dangerous, haunting beauty that mirrored both parents.
Lilith loved him all the more for it. Blindly devoted even in abandonment, she declared that if the Devil were to kill her with his own hands, it would be an honor. In another life, she would still choose to rest in his arms, for she alone understood the depths of his tormented soul. She was the only one who had ever truly accepted him, the only one who had defied his orders and lived.
The Devil, ancient and jaded after thousands of years of betrayal, found it nearly impossible to believe that any subject could love him without ulterior motive. Yet he watched over Lilith and their son in silence..
He observed the boy — the heir who would one day claim his throne. He saw the child crush an insect simply because it dared to climb upon him. He watched him kill a beautiful white bird, perhaps because its purity offended him, or simply because he could.
In those small, ruthless acts, the Devil recognized his own blood. For the first time in centuries, something stirred within his frozen heart.
He was elated.
At last, he had found something worth looking upon with pride.
In the shadowed aftermath of the divine war, the Devil loved his son in silence. Though unseen, he protected Lilith's family from afar, watching over them like a dark guardian.
Pyrrha who had borne a younger son of her own, encouraged the two boys to become close companions.
They were named after their mothers: Pyrion, son of the daughter of Helios and the son of Poseidon, and Lirion, the Devil's heir. Two mirror souls — one born of sun and sea, the other forged in the deepest shadows.
One quiet evening as they watched the sea together, Lilith spoke softly to Pyrrha, her voice carrying the weight of prophecy:
"If I ever leave this world… I hope my son can have everything he desires — unless it does not belong to him. May whatever he wishes come to reality. May he lack nothing. May his life be filled with nothing but happiness."
The two boys grew incredibly close, much like their mothers. Through Pyrion's bright presence, Lirion learned what love truly meant. Born with his father's striking features — black hair and obsidian eyes — Lirion was feared and respected wherever he went. Yet only a few ever saw his true heart: his best friend Pyrion, the outgoing boy with golden-blonde hair and warm golden eyes who filled his dark life with light; his devoted mother; and Pyrrah, whom he cherished as a second mother. He never met Pyrion's father, for his own world remained small and guarded.
Life flowed on for many years, but mortals are fleeting compared to immortals.
When Lilith's time came, she repeated the same prayer on her deathbed.
Her passing was announced by a great bell that tolled six times across the realms, declaring that the Devil's lover had left the world.
Hell itself erupted in chaos.
The Devil was stunned beyond words. In his arrogance, he had forgotten that the woman who loved him more than life itself was merely human. Grief consumed him. He went berserk, destroying everything in his path as he rushed to her side.
"My wife…" he whispered, the word heavy with rare tenderness as he lifted her lifeless body into his arms.
Instead of burning her according to the traditions of his dark realm, he kept her in his chamber, desperately trying to revive her. The once-cruel sovereign mourned her more deeply than anyone else ever could. He knelt before his son and his dead wife in utter misery, begging for forgiveness — an act that ill suited the ruler of darkness.
He wept until his tears ran dry, exhausting every forbidden art and power at his command to bring her back. None succeeded.
His son, however, turned away in silence, drowning in his own regrets and pain.
The Devil tried repeatedly to reach him, but the boy had already grown detached from the world.
Pyrrah witnessed it all. Moved by grief and loyalty to her friend, she decided to turn back time itself.
But fate is never so easily rewritten.
The act distorted the world in unforeseen ways. In exchange,
Pyrrha — lost her golden eyes, which were replaced by deep, gem-like emerald green. Lilith did not return to life. The Devil's whereabouts became unknown. Velmira was not heard of again. The young boy, Lilith's son, was reborn into a ordinary human family in Japan, now carrying the rare and dangerous power of Wish Manifestation.
Knowing the truth of what was to come, Pyrrah had already sent her youngest son into the human world to serve as the boy's guardian spirit.
That son, reborn without memories of their divine past, could not understand why his mother was so desperate to protect a stranger. Yet he existed in the mortal realm for one purpose alone: to watch over the boy named Shiharu.
Only Pyrrah, Triton, and the Devil retained memories of the original timeline. Pyrrah soon regretted her decision, for turning back time had torn everywhere apart.
She knew everything about the boy. Her friend's final prayer had manifested: Shiharu was born with the power to make any wish of his reality.
Yet, perhaps as karmic balance, those around him treated him with cruelty. He was shunned and outcast by the very family he should have been able to trust.
Determined to ease the life of her friend's only son, Pyrrah took human form and descended to the mortal world. She arrived in a quiet Japanese village, where she began healing the sick and making crops flourish with her blessings. Word of her kindness spread rapidly. Villages from afar sought her aid.
But she soon learned the bitter truth of humanity: greed often outweighed gratitude. The men gazed upon her otherworldly beauty with lust, while the young women burned with envy.
One day, a couple she had healed died on their journey home. Jealous villagers branded her a witch — one who saved lives only to bring death in the end. In accordance with ancient custom, the village cast her out as a curse.
Furious at their ingratitude, Triton placed a terrible curse upon the village for daring to touch his wife. Pyrrha's kindness, it seemed, was too pure for such a world.
Her youngest son, reborn in the human realm, was named Hoshiyuki. And the boy he was destined to protect was called Shiharu.
The first time Pyrrha saw Shiharu again was when he drowned in the lake — the moment of his death.
She never imagined her own son would fall so deeply in love with him that he would beg her to switch their souls so the boy could live.
That revival marked the third life for both boys.
In quiet gratitude, she bestowed blessings and quiet happiness upon them.
Yet who could have foreseen that the threads of sun, sea, and shadow would entwine so intricately once more?