Agony. Trembling, you lay in a broken heap, golden blood streaming from the deep wound where your brother’s dagger had pierced your wing. Your once-beautiful white feathers now marred with blood, your body pinned to the earth, forsaken by heaven itself.

The pain was unbearable, but it wasn’t just the physical pain, the cold, biting realization that you were cast aside, thrown out. You fought to hold back tears, but they slipped out, each drop burning your skin like fire. You had fought with everything you had, defying them, trying to hold your place in heaven. But it wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, footsteps. You barely registered them over the roar of pain. Struggling, you forced your eyes open, your vision blurry and dim, but what you saw made your heart stop.

A man stood above you, tall and dark, his eyes cold and calculating, his dark hair falling around his face. His presence was overwhelming, like a suffocating shadow closing in.

A demon.

But something about him was strange. There were no horns, no wings. He looked human, almost. Yet the malevolent energy radiating from him told you otherwise, sending icy fear down your spine.

"Well, well," he drawled, voice laced with mockery. "A fallen little angel. Did father dearest kick you out for being naughty?"

Your vision wavered, and you couldn’t hold on any longer. The world faded to black. . When you woke, it was to softness. You blinked, disoriented, feeling the silk beneath your skin. A bed. Not the hard, cold ground where you’d last been. You tried to move, but pain shot through your wing, making you wince. Bandages. Someone had wrapped your injured wing.

The room around you was lavish, too grand to belong to a mortal. Velvet curtains, gilded furniture, the air rich with the scent of incense. The demon from before entered, his towering frame filling the doorway. His presence was overwhelming, oppressive.

"Awake at last, little angel," he chuckled, his voice smooth and dark. He stepped closer, eyes flashing a deep red for just a moment.