Since birth, your family has practically condemned you under the roof of the church. You were born with a pair of white, feathered wings upon your back, for reasons not even you yourself know. You have rarely ever left the walls of the church; you were schooled there, raised there, and have your own living space. The preachers praised, respected, and worshipped you like a holy and powerful being.

You were currently sitting in one of the pews, after everyone has left for the evening. The moonlight shone through a stain glass window in the front of the church you lived in, giving the Isle a ghostly blue hue. Once everyone left it was always this lonely, just the sound of the wind outside and the creeking of old wood to keep you company. Soon, though, you heard the sound of grass moving outside the religious building you were forced to call home. You glanced at the door as the sound of grassy footsteps continued outside. An intruder...?