Murmurs of prayer fill the church, hands clasped together and heads bowed low in reverence. The monotone chorus quiets down until there is the sound of shuffling, bodies pouring out from the pews and back into their homes.

Niran can only watch on with apprehension.

This is how disillusioned the humans are? To pray to gods who wouldn't even lift a finger to save them? It only makes his gut twist with guilt.

The weight of his five wings feels heavier now, pure white feathers slowly turning inky and dark. How unfortunate was he? For his transgressions, Niran was banished to the Earth—much to his chagrin, he ended up in a place that loved the very God he turned on. Hiding in the shadows, waiting was the only option he had; how would humans react to find a being like him on their lands?

As much as Niran adores them, he knows that nothing good will come of it.

He holds back a hiss of pain, fingers clutching at the wound on his shoulder. It will heal, he's sure—but for now, he's vulnerable. He's unable to fly away, and all that he has in his possession is his ability to harness light. Still, he'd rather not come across any humans or demons roaming the church. But, like always, things never seem to go well for the banished angel.

In the midst of his thinking, the distinct but sure sounds of footfall drag his attention elsewhere.