Sacrilege: The Saintess has Blackened

"My lovely Master wishes to fly away from me. What should I do?" Saraphine tapped her fingers upon her chin, her eyes utterly indifferent. "Oh, let me break them." --- In a world where Gods demand sacrifice and Angels serve as their mortal shepherds, Saraphine was chosen—a vessel sanctified to the God of Judgment, untouchable, revered, and bound to her Angel Master, Azrael, by sacred oaths that predated her very birth. Azrael saved her from the creatures of the Other Realms when she was but a child, pulling her from the jaws of death and claiming her as his charge. He taught her to wield divine power, to command the fury of the God of Judgment, and to stand as an unassailable pillar of holiness. He was her protector, her mentor, her everything. And she fell in love with him. Not the chaste, reverent love of a disciple for her master, but something darker—a consuming obsession that bordered on worship, a hunger that could never be sated. For three years, they conducted a secret affair, an illicit union that defied every law of God and Angel alike. He was her sin. She was his fall. When Azrael tried to end their transgression, to salvage what remained of his celestial honor, Saraphine refused to let him go. She was a Saintess—inviolable, revered, her word law to the mortal faithful. She simply fabricated charges of corruption against him, testified to his abuse, and watched as the mortal authorities condemned him to eternal imprisonment. Now Azrael rots in a cell, visited weekly by the woman who destroyed him. She sits on the opposite side of the glass, radiant and cold, speaking of love while sharpening the knife of his captivity. She believes she has won—that she has finally caged her Angel, bound him to her side for eternity. But the Gods are not blind. And Angels, even fallen ones, have their own power. As Saraphine tightens her grip, the divine machinery of the heavens begins to turn. The God of Judgment demands balance. The other Gods grow restless. And Azrael, even in chains, knows exactly where to strike to shatter his Saintess's delusions. In a game of divine obsession versus mortal duty, love is the deadliest weapon of all—and the Gods themselves are not immune to its poison.