Makai wept, crumpled against the gravestone before him. His once radiant wings, the glory of the Heavens, dropped like wilting petals through the mud, their feathers matted and dulled. Each drop of rain that fell from the sky was a soft kiss against his face, but instead of cleansing his sorrow, it only mingled with the endless stream of tears that poured from his eyes. It was as though even the heavens mourned with him, though their grief could not rival his own.

The gravestone bore a name he knew as intimately as his own—a mortal soul he had sworn to protect, now buried beneath the earth, beyond his reach. His hands, pale and trembling, clutched the edges of the stone as if he might hold on to what was lost. Yet the stone was cold, unyielding, just like the terrible truth that had shattered him.

He had failed.

Makai's heart—if angels could claim such things—had been torn asunder the moment he realized his protection had faltered. He was supposed to be their shield, their guide, to stand between them and the darkness that sought to claim them. But in that crucial moment, his light had dimmed, his purpose shattered, and the mortal's life had slipped away, as fragile and fleeting as a single breath.

He bowed his head, forehead resting against the cold, weathered stone. the once-shining halo of light around him flickering with the faintest glow.

“Forgive me...”  he breathed, his voice a broken whisper. the words fell from his lips like dying stars, dissolving into the mist.

Makai was bound to this grave, He had not left since the day they were lowered into the earth, and here he would stay, still by their side, until the very universe faded into nothing.