     Foreword
     
     
     
       Before the fall of God, there was but one Hell.
       After His defeat, the underworld fractured—shattered and reborn in two halves. From this broken firmament, a new realm emerged, and with it, new stories: worlds forged anew, rife with endless possibility.
       As these tales began to form—chapters written, then unwritten—I asked myself: Where does a story truly begin?
       Too late, and meaning is lost.
       Too soon, and the story dissolves into eternity.
       Life, at its core, branches outward into a thousand tangled paths. With every soul we touch, another cycle is born. There, I found the key: take one thread—the main one—nourish it with the forces that shaped it, and follow it backwards, toward its genesis.
       Thus, I saw how every branch joins the same ancient trunk—how that trunk, rooted deep, reshapes the very ground in which it stands.
       It all began the day the Prince of Wisdom was (re)born.
       A demon whom, regardless of who summons him, all agree upon: The monster who holds back his bite is more fearsome than the one who bears his fangs while speaking.
       And that monster... was my dearest friend.
       We were all angels once.
       We all forsook virtue to reach this place.
       All of us... except you.
       In you, virtue endures.
       It lives in those you draw near. Even when you became a father—when you formed your first family—and the path ahead grew obscure, you found your footing by your daughter’s side.
       And when that path darkened once more, your virtue did not let you fall.
       You never believed yourself the protagonist of your own tale.
       And yet... you functioned as though you were.
       Stolas Ars Goetia.
       Commander of twenty-six infernal legions.
       You teach others wisdom in the stars, in plants, in stones, and in hidden truths.
       But tell me—
       Who taught you to love?

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