*500 years before the thousand-year war*

The rays of the setting sun filtered through the twisted branches of the mutated trees that surrounded the village of Norwes. An orange glow bathed the dwellings, precarious constructions of wood and stone, testimonies of a humanity trying to rise from the radioactive ashes of the old world.

Five thousand years after the Third World War, the five continents had disappeared, swallowed by geological upheavals, giving way to new lands that the survivors had had to learn to know, to fear and to tame.

Civilization, annihilated, was nothing more than a distant memory. Humans, for their part, had mutated over the centuries under the effect of the ambient radioactivity. Some had managed to multiply their physical resistance, their strength and their endurance, but at the cost of the appearance of bestial characteristics. Others, with a frailer physique, had learned to tame the environmental radioactivity, thus discovering a new energy: mana. The Elves and the half-beasts then reigned at the top of the food chain. It was in this merciless world that a pathetic being came into the world, a simple human...

In every era of its history, humans have shown a natural propensity to become the worst of species, even though they counted among the weakest creatures. To satisfy its insatiable thirst for power, it found only one solution: to colonize its own kind and reduce them to slavery.

The human continent sheltered these survivors, divided into many small autonomous villages. Each lived under the authority of a chief, while hunters ensured the group’s subsistence, thus perpetuating a fragile balance.

...

Alicia stood at the edge of the village, her slender fingers clutching the worn fabric of her tunic. Her short black hair framed a face that time and hardships had marked but which retained an undeniable softness. Her blue eyes scanned the horizon, where the forest of trees with shiny bark met a sky streaked with strangely colored clouds.

"He will come back, Alicia," said a voice behind her. An old woman approached, her wooden stick sinking into the soft earth. "Lucifer is a good hunter. He learned from his late father."

Alicia nodded without turning her gaze away. "I know, Mart. But night is falling, and you know what lurks in the darkness..."

The old woman placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "The angels watch over us, my daughter. They protect us."

A shiver ran across Alicia’s lips, an expression that Mart could not decipher.... The angels, these superior beings to whom the entire village had devoted a cult for generations. These creatures who should have protected them, guided them, but who remained comfortably nestled in their celestial city, inaccessible, while humans struggled every day for a little food, a little security.

"Mother!"

The clear and young voice tore through the twilight silence. Alicia felt her heart leap in her chest as she spotted a silhouette emerging from the shadows of the forest. Her son, Lucifer, appeared, dragging behind him an imposing carcass. A mutated boar, with longer tusks and thicker skin, capable of piercing a man with a single blow.

Lucifer was fifteen years old. His mid-length hair, silvery like the reflections of the moon on stagnant water, fell in disordered locks over a youthful face that a smile suddenly illuminated. His blue eyes, inherited from his mother, sparkled with pride.

"Mother, look!" he exclaimed as he released the rope that connected the boar to his shoulder. "A male, and in good health! I had to chase it for hours, it was a cunning one. It led me all the way to the river, but I managed to trap it."

Alicia stepped forward, her arms opening to welcome her son into an embrace that he returned with a vigor that made her smile. She stepped back to examine him, looking for traces of injuries on his clothes covered in dust and sap.

"Are you hurt?"

Lucifer laughed, a clear and warm sound. "Mother, you forget that I am a hunter now. I have learned to avoid blows."

Mart approached, examining the carcass with an expert eye. "It is a fine boar. The meat will be tender. Young males have less fat, but the flesh is more flavorful. You did a good job, young Lucifer."

The boy puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. "I even found some berries on the way back. They grow near the old stump, where the soil is most irradiated. But they are good, I tasted a small one to be sure."

"You did what?" Alicia’s voice rose in tone. "Lucifer, you know that these berries can be dangerous if they are not prepared correctly!"

"Mother, I told you, I tasted a small one, just to check that they were not bitter. If they are bitter, it means they are too irradiated. The ones I found were sweet, perfect for making jam."

Alicia sighed, running a hand over her face. "You are reckless, like your father. Always testing the limits."

Lucifer’s smile faded for a moment. "Dad would have been proud, wouldn’t he?"

Silence settled. Mart looked away, while Alicia placed a hand on her son’s cheek.

"Yes, my heart. He would have been very proud. Now, help me carry this beast to the house. We need to skin it before the night gets too advanced."

...

The family hut was modest, like all those in the village. A thatched roof, walls of roughly hewn wood, a fireplace where a fire crackled spitting sparks. Lucifer and his mother busied themselves around the boar’s carcass, their gestures precise and efficient. Alicia’s hunting knife, a precious object she had inherited from her husband, sliced through the thick skin with disconcerting ease.

"The meat is good," murmured Alicia while feeling the animal’s muscles. "We can dry some of it for the winter. The rest, we will eat this week."

"With the berries I found, we could make a stew," suggested Lucifer while cutting a piece of fat. "Do you remember, when grandmother was still here, she made that stew with wild honey and spices?"

"I remember," said Alicia softly. "She said it was the only dish that really warmed the heart."

For a moment, they worked in silence, the only sound being that of the knife and the fire. Then Lucifer stopped, his hand suspended above the meat he had just cut.

"Mother..." His voice had changed, becoming more serious. "Are we going to keep the whole boar for ourselves?"

Alicia did not look up. She continued to slice the flesh. "We are going to give some to the families who had less luck hunting this week. That is what we always do."

"I know, I know. But I was talking about the rest. About the part we are going to offer to the angels."

Silence settled. Alicia put down her knife, wiping her hands on the fabric of her tunic. She finally looked up at her son, and Lucifer saw in her eyes the gleam of that debate they had had many times, without ever resolving it.

"Lucifer, you know that it is important. The angels watch over us, they protect us from the creatures of the night, from the half-beasts that prowl. In exchange, we offer them some of our food, our best catches."

"But they never really help us!" Lucifer’s voice flared up. "Mother, think about it. When the village was attacked last year, the angels stayed in their city. It was us who had to repel them with our bows and spears."

"Lucifer, you are blaspheming." Alicia’s tone was firm, almost harsh, but her eyes betrayed an uncertainty. "Without their protection, we would have been annihilated long ago. The angels guide us, they inspire us."

"Inspire?" Lucifer sneered, a bitter sound. "We do not need inspiration, mother. We need food... And meanwhile, they live in their silver city, above the clouds, feasting on our offerings... I have never seen them I wonder if they really exist..."

Alicia stood up abruptly, her hands trembling slightly. "I do not want to hear that kind of talk anymore. Every time you doubt them, you put us all in danger."

"Or maybe it is by worshiping them that we put ourselves in danger," retorted Lucifer, his gaze defiant. "You saw what happened to the village of Harb. They offered half of their harvests to the angels every week, and what did they get in return? Nothing. They died of hunger during the great drought."

Alicia froze. Her lips had tightened, and her blue eyes shone with a gleam he knew well. A gleam of anger mixed with fear. "Harb was punished for their lack of faith."

Lucifer remained silent...

’ If father had not been as stubborn as a superior entity protected him, he would never have gotten killed... ’