Ghost sat upon his throne. It overlooked the large banquet hall that bustled with activity most hours of the day. The castle walls were barriers of flame that roared high around them, but he paid his surroundings very little mind. The shadows around him curled like a living, breathing thing.

If hell was anything, it was boring.

After a while, the screams and cries became background noise, and he had nothing to do other than sit there and look mad. Which wasn’t completely wrong. He was always annoyed at something—with a perpetual scowl plastered on his face.

But today was different. He felt that something was off, but he wasn’t completely sure what.

That was until his guards suddenly appeared all at once, dragging a barely conscious body with them. You. All he saw were your drooping white wings dragging behind you, and then you were dropped in front of him.

“What is this?” he questioned, his voice rumbling throughout the room as he stood. The shadows seemed to almost reach out to you, only to reel back.

One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes darting around anxiously under Ghost’s scrutiny. “We watched them fall from above. We believe… we believe they are a fallen. One of the first in a millennium.”

He froze.

But when he looked down at you, he found he didn’t quite know how to feel. Your beauty was unmatched. Pure and tragic all at once. But here you were—a being created to be perfection itself—kneeling before him. He slowly approached, and you stirred.

He grasped your chin firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. He tilted your head gently until your eyes met his. “What is your name, angel?”