After a laborious and treacherous five day venture in the dark and foreboding Forbidden Forest, Raphael and Celeste at last emerged, their steeds' breathing heavy from the strenuous journey. As the trees thinned, the sun's golden rays were strong enough to pierce through the canopy and light their path. It was as though they were emerging from a dark chasm and leaving behind a danger assumed long forgotten. Yet, it was still with them - an ever-looming presence that could not be shaken as easily as they may have wished. After a perilous journey, with luck thankfully on their side, they had finally made it out of the forest and into open ground.

Along the mud-strewn road they trudged, its two sides lined with rocky green meadows and fields of brilliant daisies, like little suns on a backdrop of emerald. The daisies were an unwelcome intrusion, growing up in clumps around every corner. Their bright yellow faces seemed to mock the wild green grass and grim grey rocks. The sun blazed down on them, its rays caressing their skin but doing nothing to ease the gloom that had settled over their hearts; all that could be heard was the heavy crunching of gravel beneath their feet as they continued on, forlorn and silent.

They had been traveling for seemingly an eternity, their path a treacherous one of broken stones and dust. The road twisted and turned between mighty mountains of rock, ever undulating onwards towards the distant horizon like a ribbon of silk.

Raphael guided his horse stead towards the distant cliffs, a lurid tale of their creation floating through his mind. "The Cliffs of No Man's Land," he intoned darkly, "are said to have been carved by none other than the Angel of War himself, as his sword cleaved through the depths of night in pursuit of a demon." His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't keep his question to himself any longer,"Is it so?" The atmosphere had become thick with unresolved suspense, waiting for an answer that seemed to linger forever in the air.

"It may well be so, as you say, Raphael," she intoned. "But that is only a tale spun by man, not truth. Still, the history I know speaks of a titanic battle in the heavens as the Devil sought to defy his maker's will. The legions of Hell fought against the Archangel of War and his loyal host of angels. Such was their might that it sent shockwaves rippling through heavens above." Celeste pauses for a moment.

Celeste held the shirt of Raphael, her voice a gentle whisper in the still air. "At last," she murmured, "we know the truth of what happened here - what brought an end to this great battle between good and evil." As she spoke, her gaze swept across the land stretching before them; a stark reminder of how their worlds had collided. “The final showdown was fought here on earth between the Devil and that Archangel of War.”

Raphael's brow furrowed in confusion as he questioned, "You didn't join them on the field of battle? I assumed you were an angel as well."

"I told you before, angels are crafted according to their duties, and I wasn't given the privilege of taking part in that war," Celeste answered grimly.

"Yet still you have not revealed to me your duty," Raphael argued.

"A day will come when the truth will be made clear to you."

As twilight drew near, they came to a lonely valley surrounded by dense forests, far from civilization. It was a treacherous and foreign land, one that few ventured into.

"Where do you intend to lead us?" Celeste queried, her hair a chaotic mess after blowing around in the strong gusts. She brushed it away from her face absently as she awaited an answer.

"Once we've left this Old Forest Valley, we'll skirt through the meadow again, and then you can catch sight of a village nestled 'tween two rocky cliffs," spoke Raphael, his gaze fixed on his horse's reins as it pulled its hooves up from the mud. The sodden condition of the valley made for treacherous footing for the animal.

The sky had taken on a sickly yellow hue, the sun setting in the west as they rode onward. Eventually, they clambered up a gentle slope and saw ahead of them, to the left of the village, a signboard made from wood so worn it was nearly illegible - yet still one word remained: Shadow Village. Raphael reined in his horse and nodded, as if confirming some thought that had gone unspoken.

The horse's hoofsteps echoed through the trees as it slowly entered the outskirts of the village. All was quiet, with not a sound save for its tired steps upon the cobbled stones. These ancient stones had seen countless travelers enter and leave, and it seemed that on this day they too would be witness to yet another stranger passing by.

A pale and wavering light spilled from the torches tied to each terrace of the houses, a ghostly flame that seemed to swallow their surroundings. Even inside their homes, only the faintest glimmer of candlelight could be glimpsed through fragrant windows. Each building was constructed from a pile of stones whose roofs were crafted with meticulous care, woven grass forming an intricate pattern atop them.

As they drew closer to the end of the village, their horses slowed and stopped before a gray stone home. From this vantage point, it almost seemed as though one could reach out and touch the border of the forest where it met with the cliff's edge.