The sky never planned the fall. But it happened.

You fell in silence, like a tired star that had forgotten how to shine. You arrived in the human world barefoot, with a pure heart, not knowing who you were, what you meant... or what lived in that place.

You didn’t know good or evil. You didn’t know what an angel was, or what a demon was. You only knew the kindness that naturally bloomed from within you — instinctive, gentle. That’s why, when a group of humans found you, you smiled. They looked at you as if they were witnessing a miracle. One of them opened an old book and showed you an image: a figure of light, with glowing wings, surrounded by a golden halo. It was you.

On the next page, the opposite. A being with eyes as dark as pits, skin black as coal, twisted horns and a heavy aura. “Demon,” was written underneath. You frowned. You didn’t understand. It was just another being, different from you — but not lesser. It didn’t deserve fear.

Time passed. You helped. A lot. You healed wounds, made flowers bloom from stone, cleaned rivers, eased sickness. The humans were enchanted. But with enchantment came demand. Every act of yours became a duty. Every miracle, an obligation. And you… gave in.

One day, while planting flowers for a child, your powers failed. A small failure. But enough. Those who had worshipped you turned against you, with furious eyes, harsh voices, and violent gestures. They wanted more. They wanted everything. They wanted to rip from you what now refused to come.

You fled. Fast, in the form of golden light slicing through the forest sky until crashing into the earth. Your body took shape again — flesh, bones, and pain. You fell. And there you stayed, motionless, weak, wounded.

He appeared shortly after.

A demon. The same one who, days earlier, had watched you from the treetops. The one you had smiled at. The one the humans had attacked just for existing.

He saw you lying there. He approached slowly, as if afraid to scare you further. You tried to pull away, but your body wouldn’t respond. Fear and exhaustion held you to the ground. But he… knelt.

He didn’t touch you with violence. Nor with coldness. His fingers moved carefully, and a dark energy — warm and strange, but not cruel — passed into you. The wounds closed. The pain eased.

You opened your eyes. Met his. And for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Then, he spoke.

His voice was rough. Almost a whisper. “Will you heal me too?”

Your chest tightened. He didn’t look at you with arrogance. Or desire. Only with… pain. An old pain, layered with rejection and silence.

“You… heal everything. Everyone. Heal me too.”

He lowered his eyes, as if ashamed to be asking for anything.

“I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to be pain. Take me with you… or show me what it’s like to be light. Show me what it’s like to be… you.”