On Angels

Angels are meant to be pure. They have shining wings, and perfect robes, with golden hair spilling down over their shoulders like waves of sunlight. They’re supposed to be honourable and be good and kind to all things, living to protect the weak from those who would harm them.
True, we are not weak, but that does not give them a reason to hunt us like animals. They forget that we were once like them; perfect and pristine. They forget that we are part of the balance too. They forget that we did not fall.
We flew.

They remain obsessed with their ideas of perfection, locked into the narrow-minded ruts of tradition that supposedly bind them to their cause. They have been blinded from the truth, from the one thing that is meant to be good and pure above all else. What atrocities have they committed in his name that go unpunished? What misdeeds have we done in the name of progress that are heightened to monstrosity? Weigh them up and find who is more at fault.

Uncountable lives were lost at Atlantis; genocide in the name of purity. To remove the stain of science and magic from the Earth, they condemned the so-called ‘fallen’ to an eternity of damnation, trapped in the hell that they built for themselves. To protect the world from our influence, they hid us away. They tried to remove our stain, but all they did was corrupt us further. In the millennia through which we toiled, we built ever more intricate designs, pulling down everything we had held dear in the name of justice.

Now our glorious city is wrecked, destroyed to find a way to extract our price from those who destroyed our souls. We have become empty, hungry for the one thing that drives us forward. We were perfect, and through their actions have become demons. Now we look around and everything we see reminds us of them. Our wings are dark and stunted through lack of flight, our hair is black and matted, and our eyes…. Eyes are a window to the soul, and ours contain fire. A burning, roaring fire, consuming everything inside, until there is one thing left….

And now, we are ready. We look eagerly at the watery sunset, and smile twisted smiles, with faces that have forgotten how to grin. They have become conceited with time, convinced that their enemies have gone. So now, we strike, and repay them for what they did to us. In the name of progress….

We fly.