IMMORTALS

C H A P T E R 6

The celestial war horn echoed across the mist-shrouded valley like a death sentence carved into the sky.

High upon the invisible ramparts of the Great Wall, the golden sentinels were mobilizing. Jude would not rest until their blood was scrubbed from the earth, and with dawn threatening to tear away the sheltering storm clouds, every open plain was a killing field.

"We can't stay near the wall," Ethan urged, his arm securely around Lili’s waist, supporting her weight as they navigated the treacherous, root-choked terrain. "The mist will burn off with the morning light. When the sky clears, the high archers will spot the red glow in our chests from leagues away."

Lili nodded through gritted teeth. Every step sent a jolt of fire through her scorched shoulder, but the rhythmic heat of Ethan’s body pressed against hers gave her an anchor against the exhaustion. Together, they pushed deeper into the flooded primeval forest, following the distant scent of burning cedar and woodsmoke.

As they crested a jagged limestone ridge overgrown with wild brambles, the landscape opened into a hidden canyon. Carved into the sheer cliffside was a colossal cavern, sheltered from the torrential rains by an overhang of living rock. Around the entrance, wooden palisades reinforced with hardened river clay formed a crude, fortified redoubt.

Humans.

Dozens of mortal survivors moved around crackling fire pits. They wore rough garments of stitched hide and coarse linen. Their faces were weathered by sun, salt, and raw grief—yet there was an undeniable, gritty vitality in their eyes. Blacksmiths hammered glowing bronze blades on stone anvils, mothers cradled infants wrapped in wool, and scouts stood guard with notched bows made of dark yew.

For millennia, Jude had described mortals as wretched, rotting beasts crawling in their own filth. Looking upon them now, Lili saw only resilience—a civilization clinging fiercely to life even as the waters of judgment had tried to erase them.

"Halt!"

A harsh, gravelly voice shattered the quiet. From behind the perimeter rocks, four mortal warriors emerged with leveled spears tipped with jagged bronze. Leading them was a towering woman with sun-bronzed skin, braided raven hair, and a jagged scar cutting across her cheek. Her obsidian eyes narrowed as she took in Ethan and Lili’s glowing skin, torn celestial tunics, and the unmistakable crimson luminescence pulsing beneath their clothes.

"Fallen ones," the leader spat, raising a notched hunting bow straight at Ethan’s heart. "The sky-dwellers who watched us drown behind their golden wall. Why have you crawled down into our mud?"

"We are not your enemies," Ethan said, his voice deep and steady as he subtly shifted Lili behind his shoulder. "We broke the golden wall. We bled for it."

"Words are cheap from spirits who never starve," the scarred woman sneered. "I am Thalia, chieftain of the Iron Ridge. We lost two-thirds of our kin to the deluge while your gods sang hymns of purity. Give me one reason not to pin you to the stone."

Lili stepped forward, meeting Thalia’s gaze without flinching. With a deliberate, trembling motion, she peeled back the collar of her torn tunic, revealing the raw, blistered lightning burn across her shoulder and the bright crimson heart throbbing inside her chest.

"Because we are no longer gods," Lili said, her amber eyes blazing with fierce honesty. "We bleed the same red blood. We feel the same cold. And right now, the hunters of Eden are descending the wall to s*******r anyone who carries a beating heart—including you."

Thalia lowered her bow slightly, her sharp gaze lingering on the wound and the real, dripping blood staining Lili’s collar. A heavy murmur rippled through the mortal warriors.

"They carry the Forbidden Spark," an elder mortal whispered from the cave entrance. "The prophecy of the First Pair said the children of the quiet dawn would one day choose the fire over the stone."

Thalia hesitated for a tense heartbeat before gesturing with her blade. "Inside. Before your celestial masters see your tracks."

The cave was warm, thick with the comforting smells of roasting roots, dried herbs, and crackling pine. Thalia guided them to a secluded alcove near a subterranean spring, tossing them a bowl of warm broth and coarse clay jars of soothing resin.

"Drink," Thalia commanded gruffly. "Your bodies are burning through fuel they never needed before. If you pass out, you're dead weight."

Lili took a sip of the broth. It was savory, rich, and earthy—a burst of intense sensory flavor that made her gasp. Ethan drank after her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a tired but breathtaking smile spreading across his face as he looked at her. In the flickering firelight, surrounded by dirt and mortal survival, they felt more alive than in ten thousand years of pristine paradise.

"Rest while you can," Thalia warned, sharpening a bronze hunting knife against a whetstone. "The celestial horn you heard wasn't just a patrol. The High Sentinel has unleashed the Seraphim Vanguard. They don't just hunt with spears—they carry the Purging Flame. If they track you to this cave, they will turn this entire canyon into a tomb of glass."

Suddenly, the air in the cavern turned unnaturally frigid.

The crackling fire died down to a faint blue hiss, and the hair on the back of Lili’s neck stood on end. Outside the palisade, the distant sound of mortal scouts screaming was violently cut short.

Ethan shot to his feet, grabbing a bronze spear from the wall. Lili felt the crimson heart in her chest flare white-hot in warning.

A voice, silky and resonant with divine power, echoed through the cavern entrance like a razor across ice.

"Come out, little traitors," Jude’s voice rang through the dark. "Or I will burn every mortal child in this hole to cinders before your eyes."