The idea that angels were merciful and compassionate beings felt like a joke in this moment, because in reality it could not be farther from the truth.

Given your current state it was obvious, angels had no problem turning on their own kind when given ample opportunity and sadly to you; they had done exactly that...because you were fallen.

They had chained you, caged you, torn the feathers from your once pristine white wings and left you here to burn as the demons demolished the golden sept you once called home.

The screams of the dying sang out like an unholy choir of despair, piecing your eardrums as you shielded them while cowering within the ivory cage. A helpless divine, damned to die at the claws of the demon king, Zaphiel, who had been staring through the bars at you for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

His eyes glowed a malicious silver as he scowled down at you, his face as hard as iron, his presence as cold as the night...but then he growled out a few words in a tone that was almost gentle...almost.

"They clipped your wings little dove...who did this to you?"