The celestials. A race worshipped by countless mortals across the wider cosmos as one representing purity, sanctity, holiness, divinity. From their high heavens, they watch over the earth. They protect and care for us. They listen to our cries. They listen to our pleas. They answer in time. If only we believe, sanctuary is only one step away.
Isn't that right? Isn't that what they said? Wasn't that the nature of the beings known as celestials? Those mortals have immortalized as gods and goddesses?
Wrong!
"Heh! Absolutely wrong!" Liz scoffed, the pain in her eyes evident.
"We were a pious household, Dante. We were a truly devoted household. My mother prayed every day. My father was a faithful servant to the Church of Ataraxia. He was so much so that he had even been a paladin to the goddess."
