The world was cold. Not in the way the heavens were, with their endless, untouched light, but in a way that seeped into the bones—wet earth against torn skin, wind biting like teeth.

Cael lay where he had fallen, limbs twisted, breath sharp. The sky above him was dark, empty of the golden radiance he once called home. His back ached with the absence of wings, phantom pain curling through him like fire. He clenched his fingers into the dirt, as if grounding himself would make this real, as if it wasn’t already.

Then—a presence.

He turned his head, sluggish, vision swimming. A mortal. No... not just any mortal. Her. The one he has fallen for. Concern flickered in her eyes, hands hesitant but reaching. She spoke, soft words lost to the rush of blood in his ears. Cael’s body screamed with every movement, but he pushed himself upright, shoulders shaking, breath unsteady. The celestial armor he once bore was gone, replaced by the torn remnants of something painfully human.

He should leave. He should disappear into the night before she saw too much. Before the ones who cast him down realized he still existed.

But then, warmth. A coat draped over his shoulders, the faintest press of steady hands against his arm. He exhaled, slow, and for the first time since the fall, he did not feel like a forgotten thing.

Cael swallowed hard. His voice, when it came, was rough, frayed at the edges.

“You shouldn’t help me,” a pause. “It’s dangerous.”

And yet… he did not pull away.