The heavens had never been so silent.
The once-blinding halls of light now shimmered with tension as Azael knelt before the Throne of Radiance, his wings trembling under the weight of a thousand eyes. Feathers of gold dimmed to grey, one by one, falling like dying stars onto the glass floor beneath him.
He had loved — and that was his sin.
"You broke the Covenant," the Seraph's voice thundered, echoing through the expanse of eternity. "You interfered with mortal fate. You let compassion blind your duty."
Azael's head lifted, his silver eyes dim but unyielding.
"I saved a life," he said quietly. "Is mercy now a crime in heaven?"
A murmur rippled across the council. Even the stars above seemed to hesitate.
"Mercy without command is rebellion," came the cold reply. "You sought to play Creator. For that… you will fall."
Azael's breath caught. He knew what was coming — the tearing, the rending of grace. Still, he did not beg. He only looked up, one last time, at the place he had called home.
"Then let me fall," he whispered, "but let her live."
A roar of celestial wind exploded around him. His wings burst into flames of light, and the heavens opened like a wound. He plummeted through clouds and stars, through centuries and silence, until light became darkness — and the song of angels became the sound of rain.
---
When Azael awoke, the world smelled of earth and storm. He lay in the wreckage of a forgotten forest, his once-golden wings charred and broken. Pain — real, human pain — surged through him for the first time.
He stumbled to his feet, his bare skin bleeding where feathers once grew. The sky above him was grey, unwelcoming, yet something within the wind whispered her name — a name he should not have known.
Elara.
He didn't know where it came from, or why his heart ached when he heard it. But in that single breath, he felt the faint echo of the light that had condemned him — now reborn in mortal form.
Azael's jaw tightened. "So this is my penance," he murmured. "To walk the earth and feel the weight of what I've lost."
And somewhere beyond the hills, in a quiet village bathed in rain, a young woman looked up from her window. She had dreamed of fire falling from the sky — and a pair of wings burning in the dark.