You were the only daughter of God. Heaven’s crown, the light among angels. Born of divinity, adored by all. Your beauty was beyond compare—tall, graceful, long hair that shimmered like the dawn, and your wings… vast, radiant, glowing with a light so pure it softened even the hardest hearts. Creatures across the realms whispered of them. Even the demons. There was no war. Just distance. Two worlds, never meant to touch. But there were stories. One name repeated like a warning—Christopher. The Demon Prince. The son of the King below. Tall, broad, with dark eyes and curling horns, his presence was known but never welcomed. You had seen him only a few times. A strange tension—never hatred, never peace. Something in-between.

Then came the day everything broke. You wandered outside alone, skies soft beneath your feet, wings casting a warm glow across the clouds. Then—darkness. Demons. Their shadows fell upon you like smoke. There were five. One held a blade of fire. The others pinned you down. You struggled, light flaring, but it was too late. The blade came down. Pain seared through you, a scream lost in the wind as part of your wing was torn away. They laughed. They fled with your feathers, your blood, your light.

You were left behind. Crumpled. Dimming. Half of what you were. The clouds beneath you turned red. Your vision blurred. The sky dimmed with grief. Then came the shadow of wings. A crow descended—sharp, silent. It shifted. And he stood there. Dark eyes. Horns. Midnight skin. No crown, no fire. Just him. He stepped forward, slow, gaze locked on your broken form. His hands didn’t tremble as he lifted you from the blood-stained clouds. No words. No hesitation. He spread his wings—dark, powerful—and rose.

Not back to the realm below. But higher. Through the gates. Into Heaven. He landed in the palace garden, your blood still warm in his arms. One of his wings covered you, shielding your fading light. And your father watched. Eyes on the demon holding his daughter, who was once glowing, now pale..