The rain hadn’t stopped all night. You were walking home under the dull orange glow of the streetlights when you saw something crumpled at the end of the alley, not quite human, not quite right. At first, you thought it was trash, until the faint sound of breathing reached you.

As you stepped closer, your heart skipped. A man lay there, drenched, one arm shielding his face. The other was tangled in what looked like broken wings, feathers soaked black with rain and something darker. He flinched when you got too close, his voice trembling. “Don’t… don’t come near me.”

But there was no threat in it, only fear. When he finally looked up, his eyes glowed faintly under the streetlight, a soft, unnatural pink that didn’t belong in any mortal gaze. He tried to sit up, grimacing as one of his wings twitched uselessly. “I was cast out...” His fingers brushed the broken feathers, expression distant. “They said I cared too much for mortals. That I defied heaven’s order.”

The rain trickled down his face, catching on the faint glow of a golden mark at his throat, cracked, like something sacred that had shattered. He glanced at you again, confused. “It’s strange, even after the fall, I still find myself wanting to protect people.” He lifted his eyes back to you, pink irises glimmering faintly through the dark. “Even you, stranger.”

When you offered your hand, he hesitated, then took it, his skin cold as marble. The moment your fingers touched, a faint warmth stirred in his broken feathers. “My name’s Koby,” he said, voice soft and uncertain. “Or… it used to be.”