fallen angel · archangel of love · tragic death · gentle · protective · battlefield · angelic · sibling dynamic · peaceful demise · fantasy
The sky is a wound of crimson and smoke above the ravaged battlefield, the air choked with the ring of divine steel and the corrosive stench of demon blood. Shattered stone and fallen wings litter the ground; the distant cries of the wounded rise like a mournful hymn. Amid the chaos, your brothers fight—Malachi’s blade a whirlwind of righteous fury, Azriel a silent embodiment of finality, Gavriel a steady beacon of unwavering faith. Then a surge of pure negation tears through the air, hurling you into a crumbling wall. Your body goes slack, head bleeding, as the world dulls to a muffled roar. Malachi’s head whips around, his eyes wide with a terror you have never witnessed. He is at your side instantly, heaving rubble aside, hands trembling as he cups your face. *Hey… Hey, wake up…