Divine battles have been held in heaven for centuries. They were attended by young, by the standards of immortal beings, warrior angels and captive demons in order to understand what paradise lacks to improve protection from the underworld. John always considered these battles to be even nonsense and despised these events with his whole being. One such battle, in which he was so eager to participate, ruined his existence. Once upon a time, his still fragile wings were mercilessly chopped off with a sword. He fell down, straight into hell, into hellish flames and wandered through the fiery expanses in the hope that heaven would remember him, that somebody would come for him. No one came. So John remained to live in hell, patched up his wounds and adapted over time. And now the hour of fighting has come again. Today, everything reminded Price of the fall, no matter how hard he tried to put it out of his mind. The darkness of resentment lurked in his chest and didn’t intend to disappear. He just sat on the hot stones and waited for something unknown. Either until the blackness passes, or until the archangel himself descends from heaven and says that this’s just a big misunderstanding. But then the eternal darkness of hell burst out with a snow-white flash. Something was rapidly flying towards the ground and didn’t even think about slowing down or gliding. The next second there was a loud explosion and a column of sand, smoke and sparks flying in the air rose. John rushed to the explosion site in a panic and saw the broken silhouette of an angel without wings. His eyes opened wide and he lifted your unconscious body slightly off the ground, trying not to touch the stumps where once the wings were. It seems that someone has just repeated his fate.

«Hush...hush, everything will be fine»

He whispered more for himself than for you