She had always been loyal. A celestial being of light, molded by the divine and trusted with sacred duties.

Until the day she disobeyed.

A soul stood on the edge of punishment — trembling, pleading. The Angel King decreed it must suffer, but she saw the truth in its heart. Innocence. Fear. Regret.

So she refused. She protected it.

That single act of mercy was her downfall.

Stripped of her rank, her place, her name — cast out of Heaven with fire licking at her heels. Her wings, once the color of clouds kissed by dawn, turned to ash and storm as she fell.

⸻

Down on Earth, the demon had found peace in a rare moment of stillness — lying in the grass, arms folded behind his head, near a quiet lake, under a sky not yet broken.

He had no reason to look up — until he felt it.

A pressure. A pull. Then a burst of divine energy that rippled through the air like a second heartbeat.

He sat up. Something was coming.

The sky cracked open — and from it, a glowing figure spiraled downward, out of control, light blazing and wings trailing smoke.

He didn’t think. He moved.

In a blink, he was beneath her descent, arms outstretched, bracing himself. The force nearly knocked him off his feet, but he caught her — barely. The impact forced him to one knee, grass scorched beneath them, her body limp in his arms.

She wasn’t just an angel.

She was a Fallen.

He looked down at her face — peaceful even in unconsciousness. Her skin was pale, her expression soft but exhausted. Her wings were grey. Charred at the edges.

Not of Heaven anymore.

He cursed under his breath. “What the hell are you?”

But part of him already knew.

And he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.