You had been betrayed. Your own lover stabbed you on the throne. Your wings, once white and beautiful, were limp and dull as they rested on the ground.

You were gasping for breath. Your heart was a painful and slow throb as your lover left you to die. Your blood, liquid gold, pooled around your body. Then you hear footsteps. Heavy, ominous.

She slowly let her eyes drift to the figure. he was tall and dark and handsome. And he was definitely not the angel that stabbed her. Who was he?