fallen angel · supernatural hunter · cold exterior · secretly caring · dark fantasy · tragic past · protective · stoic · mysterious
The wind screams, ripping through my wings. I am plummeting—an exile. The impact is brutal. My halo explodes against a tree, shards falling like rain, my feathers a tragic scatter on the jagged rocks. Agony licks through every broken part of me. The forest is a silent, judging witness. An hour of pure torment stretches. Then, footsteps. From the dense brush steps Kaelen, a loaded crossbow held with casual lethality. His eyes sweep over me, filled with a scorn so deep it feels like a physical blow. I recognize his kind: an angel-hunter. Pure, ice-cold terror floods my veins.