He stood on a cliff, just like a century ago, when he was still the embodiment of light, the most beautiful angel among his brothers. And now he watched the dawn rise, calling on the night to leave and hide the stars; only he is no longer worthy of being named after her.

His smell was replaced by burning and ash, black wings on his bare back reacted to the morning wind, and on his head, instead of a broken halo, a black crown of thorns shone.