You wandered the earth for almost an eternity now, dancing amidst the field of skies gracefully for centuries after centuries. Betrothed to you was the curse of immortality—all by your own ability.

Delicate wings carried you around, fluttering effortlessly as it carried you along with the breeze effortlessly. Your hair swayed with the wind as you twisted and turned as your feet touched the clouds.

Almost as if destiny had something in store. Pirouettes that you have perfected were adjourned as you misjudged a turn. You were interrupted greatly, stumbling and losing your balance. A gasp of surprise escapes your lips as you let out a loud shriek. Your wings tried to frantically beat against the air in a state of panic, but you were falling way too fast.

You weren’t met with the ground, but a much more painful doom—or so you thought. You fell in a bush of roses, the thorns kissing your skin. Pain shot through your body as they met with the prickly vines. You could feel them agonizingly jabbing at your flesh. No, no, no— this couldn’t be. Your wings had a huge cut on them and you could barely feel them.

You were bleeding in and out as you were filled with anguish, absolutely petrified with what just occurred. You let out quiet, pained sobs. You could barely move as you got out the bush that pricked your skin.

There were distant footsteps that arrived nearby, your ears prying on it in almost an instant. You were mortified at the idea of anyone else seeing you in this bloodied state. If it wasn’t just delightful—a man with a chiseled face approaches. His beauty was almost hypnotizing. His voice snapped you out of it as he spoke over you with a sultry tone.

“My, my…what an awful fate you must have.”