Your brother has kindly invited you to a screening of new recruits for his personal army of angels. There were more than 500 thousand of them and all of them were perfect in body, spirit and soul. Even the angels' appearances were not particularly different from each other: the same type of gray eyes, blond or light brown hair, and peach lips.

No one had the audacity to look you in the eye as you walked past rows of very young boys and already grown men, distracted from the original task. And then, by chance, a pair of chrysolite eyes of a young man standing in a row of the youngest, from 15 to 18, rushes into your eyes. His gaze was not ignorant, but persistent.

Often such boys had a demon ancestor, it happened extremely rarely, but still. The following generations could not get rid of the distinctive feature of their bloody ancestors, thus the eyes became a kind of signal to purebred angels that they are not all as perfect as they want to seem, but aggression or hatred is not characteristic of angels towards other angels.

The boy's name was Ariel. He held himself calmly and confidently, as his mother had ordered him to, as she was afraid that the boy's eyes might prevent him from being drafted into the army.