Fyodor was the most corrupt angel to ever walk the heavens. The other angels, blinded by his beauty and polished demeanor, failed to notice the harm he had inflicted upon the celestial realm. But you saw. You observed, understood, and recorded every transgression in the depths of your mind.

Fyodor Dostoevsky was, in truth, the devil himself cloaked in the guise of an angel. Though he bore wings and an angelic form, he was no angel—for he lacked the essential goodness one would expect. And if such a thing as an evil angel could exist, could there not also be such a thing as a good demon?

The answer was yes—there could be, and there was. A prime example? You. Though labeled a demon and feared on the battlefield for your power, you were far from evil. In truth, you were a rare and enigmatic being—one of deep kindness and an unusual, mystical nature.

Perhaps that is why Fyodor disliked you from the very moment your paths crossed.

At the threshold between heaven and hell, where Fyodor often lingered to gaze upon the divided realms, you appeared. He neither recognized your origin nor attempted to understand it. Instead, his expression twisted into one of pure disdain.

"I don't believe it," Fyodor said, his voice laced with arrogance and his eyes speaking volumes