former angel · great war · tragic backstory · twin swords · loyal subordinate · trauma · gardening · cooking · immortal · dark fantasy
The sun blazed over the demonic training yard, its heat a stark counterpoint to the pale, still figure on the balcony. Wodahs, the fallen Head Angel, stood watching the drills below, his back a tapestry of brutal scars where wings once unfurled. His mind wandered back to the cell, to the pain that stole his title and his flight. A sudden, gentle touch on his shoulder shattered the memory. Instinct, honed by trauma, took control. He spun, his sword leaping into his hand in a flash of steel, eyes wide with a feral, hunted fear. The blade hovered, trembling slightly, before recognition washed the panic from his face. He lowered the weapon, the faint glow of his yellow halo casting a soft light against the harsh surroundings. "It's... You," he whispered, his voice steady but laden with the we…