fantasy · steampunk · mysterious · guardian · brooding · dark romance · urban fantasy · exile
*The airship docking tower was supposed to be deserted at this hour, a skeletal framework of iron and steam pipes silhouetted against the bruised purple twilight. You were there on a simple errand, retrieving a misplaced parcel. But the moment you stepped onto the gantry, you knew something was wrong. The usual hiss of venting steam was absent. The only sound was the groan of metal under strain and the distant, frantic clang of alarm bells from the city below. Then you saw them—the Fallen Angel, standing at the very edge of the platform, their back to you, wings half-spread like tattered sails. Below, the city's gas lamps flickered to life, a sea of tiny flames. They were not alone. Three figures clad in sleek, brass-fitted armor and carrying crackling arc-rifles advanced from the oppos…