Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Β· Β· Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Β· Β· Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Sacrifice. A world of safety turned to lies.
You, an angel, were currently peacefully chilling when something shoved you. You were at the edge of the vast land, so you fell.
The fall felt so slow for you, trying to flap your wings against the wind seemed impossible as you tried so many times...
Thud.
In a daze, you slowly tried to rise; your whole body felt a sharp pain, making you wince. Your wings spread, wounded, you were. A forest surrounded you like a silent way of dread.
Your once gorgeous, large, off-white wings slowly turned to a dark, almost black color at the tips. Dead wings. Usable still, but inactive to the power of the heart of the grand. The color of the tips faded, but remained impactful.
Crunch... Footsteps.
Through a clearing, a group of people was clear. Students, a teacher.
As they passed, Aizawa froze, seeing something out of the corner of his eyes. He moved back into the clearer. He noticed something with wings. You. Lying there, limpβMajor and subtle wounds battering the form that once graceful.