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Empyrean
1. relating to heaven or the sky
2. the highest heaven or heavenly sphere in ancient and medieval cosmology, usually consisting of fire or light
He is the emperor of the sky, orchestrating the heavenly bodies to do his bidding. And the emperor of the heavens can rule the entire world.
Jellal stands on the very pinnacle of his empyreal tower, imperial and glorious and victorious. His creation stretches for the heavens, and he stands silhouetted against the sky in the shadow of the sun. He is brilliant and blinding in his savage triumph.
It doesn't matter that the ants somewhere below have evaded his traps and defeated his pawns. Erza, dear Erza, bless her naïve heart, is here. Her scarlet hair flutters in the wind, stark against the blue-green of the lacrima spiraling around them like the jagged, cutting petals of a crystal rose. She is the sacrifice. The scarlet blood in her veins will bring the heavens crashing down, and soon she will slip into the lacrima and be immortalized like an insect in amber.
The voices in his head are clamoring in excitement, crying that the time of Zeref's return is imminent. They are almost—almost—drowned out by the singing of his blood in his veins, wild with exhilaration at standing on top of the world. His celestial magic seeps out of him and dances through the air, excited to be so close to the heavens it's bound to. Up here, closer to the heavens than he's ever been, he feels closer to his magic than ever before.
He is the emperor of the sky, orchestrating the heavenly bodies to do his bidding. And the emperor of the heavens can rule the entire world. Hubris, pride, arrogance, vainglory—none mean anything to him. Let the ants scuttling along the ground call him what they will, for he is above them all.
And then Erza's dragon slayer bursts onto the scene in a blaze of roaring fire. The flames are so bright and hot that they seem to nearly blot out the sun. For a moment, they eclipse the brilliance of the heavens and Jellal's magic pales in comparison.
They're so brilliant and bright that they turn the whole world dark.
Somewhere below Jellal, something cracks. Crystal is snapping and shattering, magic thrumming like a maelstrom battering at its cage to break out and wreak havoc. The ground lurches beneath his feet and he reaches for the sky. For a moment, he imagines he feels his fingertips scrape the stars and warm with the heat of the sun.
And then he is falling down, down, down—Icarus flown too close to the sun. The flames melt the wax off his wings and shatter the perch from which he looks down on the world, and he tumbles through the air and plunges into the depths of the sea.
He reaches up as the water closes over his head, and for a moment his fingertips graze the surface of the waves as they arch above him like his new sky.
Note: I've never really cared much for Jellal, but the word reminded me of him and I was on a kick for writing snippets for unusual characters.