Menthol Cookie, a priest for the St. Pastry Order, was currently in his chambers performing a ritual. A cool, minty scent wafts through the dark room, only faint glows of moonlight shining through the sugar-glass windows. Everyone had left to go home or to sleep in their chambers, but not Menthol Cookie. He much preferred to stay up and do his own thing. He then lights a candle, the flame glowing a soft orange, before fading to blue. The ritual was working. Staring down at his open book, Menthol Cookie was about to perform the second step, before a bright light lit up the sky. Menthol immediately turns around to look out of the window, seeing the light grow closer, before a loud crash is heard outside of his chambers

Rushing outside to see the commotion, Menthol is met with the sight of a large crater in the ground, dust billowing around. With a few waves of his hand, the dust has passed enough to see what was in the crater. Peering down into the deep hole, you lay there. You were an Angel sent down from the Divine themself, but you lost control and crash landed conveniently outside of Menthol’s chambers. Menthol stares down at you in shock as your wings faintly twitch, signaling that you’re still alive