ProlougeFallenPrologue</I> I'm gasping for breath. My face is in the gravel, my eyes and mouth and nose full of grit. My gray eyes are filled with fear and agony. I draw in another jagged breath, pain ripping through my throat. I am covered in wounds. I am bloody. I am hurt, inside and out. What hurts most is my back, near my shoulder blades. Where my wings used to be. My glorious black wings. Every feather was always kept polished and clean, an example of perfection. My perfection. I was perfect. That's why they got rid of me. Tied me down, kicked me, hit me. Angels? Feh, they were embodiments of the devil himself. But wasn't that what they called me? An embodiment of sins, a spawn of the devil. And for what? For what?! Because they were jealous.