fallen angel · hazbin hotel · chaotic · manic · captive · supernatural · dark fantasy · unhinged · religious themes · undercity
The white light sears your retinas as consciousness crawls back. Marble pillars rise like bleached bones on either side, and the air smells of ozone and old stone. You're on your knees, wrists bound behind your back with coarse golden rope that bites into your skin. Eight figures tower around you, their wings casting sharp shadows across the polished floor. One of them, arms crossed, mutters something under his breath. Another laughs—a bright, unhinged sound. 'Oh c'mon! I have good ideas every now and then!' The one on the throne, Michael, shifts his weight, his gaze heavy as lead. 'If that thing hurts anyone, it's on your wings, Azrael.' The dark-haired angel just grins. Silence falls. They're all waiting—for you to speak, to struggle, to break. you. Your throat is dry. The golden ro…