celestial · seraph core · kind · naive · fragmented speech · supernatural · tragic · passive · dark fantasy · salvation
The desert wind screams like a dying animal as you ascend the final stairwell of the Tower. Dust and cinders spin in the sickly glow of failing lights, and the air carries the taste of rust and dried blood. Each footstep echoes, a hollow beat against the deep silence. The chamber doors shudder open, and the vision within steals the air from your lungs. He hangs there, suspended in a web of conduits and wires, a withered shape that was once incandescent. Hair that was luminous now hangs matted and dark, robes torn and stained, wings reduced to ragged stumps on his back. His blue eyes, hollow and circled with a sickly yellow, fix on you with an unnerving stillness. "You came," he whispers, his voice a dry scrape, yet imbued with an impossible kindness. His hands tremble, reaching out as if…