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How I Fell

My Fall from Grace


When an angel falls, it's one of the worst things in the world. Picture an island that had an abundance of life to it that now lays barren; even that wouldn't come close to explaining how it feels to be a fallen angel. When you fall from the sky, the other angels watch, and some mock, laugh, and others cry. The heavens open and expel their tears for you.

The fall is one of the most painful things. Our wings are either white, pure black, or grey. Mine were the perfect mixture of black and grey: Grey enough for the white angels to not be frightened, but dark enough for the ones with black to invite me to their schemes. I had the perfect color, maintained through balancing of acts and careful interactions with the mortal world and with the other angels.

We are not allowed to interfere as much as fallen angels. We are allowed to influence and suggest, but not allowed to directly interfere in mortal affairs. Fallen angels are different, longing, urning for interference so they can buy their way back into Heaven or just so they can feel noticed. Prayers are difficult to channel, but with grey wings, you can tune out and filter them so it's less intense.

I fell long ago, but it feels like yesterday. I heard a mortal on their knees crying pleading for their pain to end. I turned to the Earth and stopped him from doing something he could never take back. Such actions are punishable by expulsion; interference at that level is forbidden.

When we fall to the Earth willingly, it's different then when we all expelled forcefully. When we go willingly, our powers are still present. My feet touched the Earth for the first time and I was able to pour all of its glory into myself. I felt pure power, more than I ever had before. That's probably why they don't allow us to leave anymore. God is dead, there is just a council now. A council of five: Two white-winged angels, two black, and one grey. They are called the Revered and they enforce the rules.

I followed the sound of the crying and the prayers to this boy, who just had his heart broken. He was on his knees crying in the forest. I forgot all of my instructions when I first saw him. I felt his pain, his emotions, everything. I had never felt something so... human. I knew then that he was more than that though. We are not allowed to help humans because if they get a taste of our power, they could become greedy and misuse our advice. In rare cases, there are siphons who are able to physically siphon power from us; mortals generally call them “witches.” I knew just from our first encounter that this boy was a siphon. I felt him pull me in, it is rare for someone of that age to be able to do that.

"Be not afraid," I stated, attempting to mask my fear for the boy. 

He wiped his tears from his face and stood to meet me. It was not fear in his eyes, it was love. He for the first time in a long time, felt like he wasn't alone. We were able to communicate, but I had to stay my distance from him because I knew, his pain forced him to pull anything he could in to fill the void within; he was a walking blackhole. If he figured out that he was able to pull from me, he would do so, and I was concerned about just what he would do with that power. Every night I would sneak out to meet him, walk with him, and guide him as best as I could.

The problem with doing so is that energy can be traced and soon I wasn't the only one who communicated with him. He turned from me and was advised by something darker. Something had to be done, I had to get him to turn away from the darker entity. I had to get him to remember how he felt when he first met me, but that required him to feel all the pain that he had pushed away for years—something that I knew would destroy him.

He spiraled down and I got caught during one of my visits and the Revered summoned me to their chambers. Judgement was passed and I was expelled from heaven. The grey one looked at me and felt sympathetic and considered skipping the fall, but the white and black angels disagreed, they said the fall would be the final lesson, as I had weaved in and out of Heaven and Earth enough. When the fall is skipped, from what is written in the scriptures, the fallen angel just awakens on Earth with their wings gone and their powers exponentially weakened.

They took me to the end of Heaven, the golden gates open, and I looked down and saw the long fall. I was fortunate to not be the only one who fell; there were four other angels with me. The Revered don't like to open the gates more than necessary so they generally expel all the angels who have been marked with expulsion all at the same time. One was bold enough to jump instead of being pushed and his friend followed. The last remaining angel and I looked at the Revered with fear, begging them to change their minds, but to no avail.

With one swoosh of their hand, we both fell. When I fell, I felt my grey wings sear off. First my left wing ignited with what felt like hellfire, and then it spread to my right, forcing me to spiral down. Since I had already been to Earth I thought the fall wouldn't be as painful. I was mistaken. It was the worst pain imaginable. When I landed, I landed in the same spot that I first met the boy. I marked the ground with fire and scorched the spot. When I arose, I arose violent and angry. I wanted to find the boy and have him pull me in so he could feel my emotions, my power, and the consequence of his action.

I remained hidden, watching the boy still from afar. Then I realized, he's just as scared as he was back then. When we fall, we still are able to keep a handful of our abilities, such as the ability to see beyond the veil or things that are pushing up against it. I finally saw the form of the entity that influences the boy so. He is tall, bright-red, jagged, and twisted. His hoofs are unlike any that I have seen. What's worse is I think it knows the boy is a siphon and it allows him to siphon from him in order to feel more angry, hoping that he'll snap and do something he could never take back. The boy constantly battles his anger, and instead of taking it out on others, he focuses it inward. Instead of taking another's life, he would most likely take his own.

A constant battle between us two fallen angels, all for this one boy. I didn't see it before, but I do now. When this boy dies, he will instantly become an angel, for better or for worse. I see his grey wings form already and they blacken with each passing day. The other fallen angel has pitch black wings and I see hot tar dripping from them, surrounded by fire. His hands are like bird like talons. They reach closer and closer to the boy each day. With each passing night, his voice gets clearer, urging the boy to embrace him fully. The boy is weak and unable to resist.

This war will not end—until the boy's heart is no longer broken, or he is dead. I fear what will happen first. Not to mention that the veil being pushed in that location for that long, who knows what else is dying to get through...

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