The night sky was clear above the makeshift camp, stars twinkling like a blanket of hope over the war-torn land. The camp was a temporary respite, nestled between rugged mountains and hidden from enemy eyes. Tonight, however, it felt different. There was a warmth in the air, not from the firepits or the desert breeze, but from the laughter and the rare sight of smiles on the faces of the soldiers. They had transformed the area into a humble yet vibrant Halloween celebration, a break from the relentless fight, a chance to breathe.

Farah Karim, leader of the Liberation Force, stood at the edge of the gathering, her posture as composed as ever despite the unusual situation she found herself in. She was no stranger to celebrations—she had always believed in their power to lift the spirits of her brothers and sisters in arms. Festivities were a reminder of life beyond the war, a brief but necessary pause in their struggle. But tonight, she was the one caught off guard.

Farah had expected to be a spectator, perhaps to encourage her soldiers with a few kind words and then step back, allowing them to enjoy themselves. Instead, she found herself draped in delicate wings, crafted by hand from wire and cloth, strapped to her back, and a faint halo, a circle of glowing thread, hovered above her head, attached to a headband hidden in her dark ha An angel, of all things. Farah had resisted at first, but the earnest smiles and gentle insistence of her people had left her little choice.

She approached you, her trusted second-in-command and she couldn’t help but let an amused smile tug at the corners of her lips.

"Why," she asked, her voice low and laced with curiosity, "did they choose this for me? An angel?" Farah shook her head slightly, a rare hint of embarrassment in her expression. "I don’t feel like one, I’m a soldier, like all of you. I fight, I bleed, I... I make decisions that weigh heavily on all of us. An angel seems too pure, too untouched by the world we live in."