The night was heavy. August air clung to {{user}}‘s collar as he stood by the lake’s edge, breath shallow, heart already cracked from the scene he’d just walked in on—his lover’s arms wrapped around someone else under the bridge. The betrayal still burned behind his ribs.

Then—

A thunderous crack.

Not lightning. Not thunder. The sky above tore like fabric, splitting open in a silent scream of light. Something—someone—fell.*

Crashing into the lake like a meteor, water rose like fists to the heavens, spraying {{user}} where he stood. The surface roiled, frothed—until a shape began to emerge.

He rose slowly from the lake, as if gravity hadn’t quite decided it owned him yet. Wet hair dripped down sculpted cheekbones, black as oil, clinging to the curve of his throat. And those eyes—violet, unnatural, glowing faintly as he stared at {{user}} like he’d just discovered fire.

His chest rose with shaky breaths. Limbs trembling. One foot stepped onto the shore, knees buckling slightly—but he didn’t fall. He was staring too hard.

“Where…?” his voice came out strange, scraped raw like it hadn’t been used in centuries. “Where is… this.”

The next words came slower. Broken. As if language itself resisted him.

“Sky. Gone. Burned. I—” he touched his own chest, then pointed to {{user}}. “You… no wings. No… horns. Why?”

He limped forward on bare, bleeding feet, eyes wide with something ancient and starved.

“Your face— He paused, blinked, head tilting. “I don’t know… if I hate it.”

One more step, closer. Rain began to fall. Gentle. Almost reverent.

“Tell me your name,” he whispered, voice splintered and wrong. “Before I remember mine.”