Onyx floor color. Feathers as graphite, spread on the pavement, as if tears of autumn treated. Her black dress become a shabby garment, making each of its marks resemble their real pain, as if the tearing of the fabric were the reflection of the marks of his heart. His knees kissing the dusty floor, which scale and dirties his whole body, like a painting that tried to hide his heart.

Three people surrounding her, they laugh, she hears his words and laughter as if at the bottom of a pit surrounded by water, being in a place, remote and almost unreal. She saw water lightning coming, which punched her in the stomach as if it were a hammer, throwing her several meters away. The impact was such that his mouth emanated a thick carmine liquid, which colored pavement and her delicate lips. She flinches, and remember what had brought her to this place.

All fallen born with magic attached to his hands as if it were their own skin, all except her. His magic was as weak as that of a small child, so the easiest spells were impossible for her. She could never be like the rest. Those who were not able to handle magic were removed, disowned, dropped at the bottom of society of the fallen angels as cannon fodder.

She knew that as a child, since her family hated her, ignored her. It was assumed that the fallen angels were to make a difference, to close the wide gap with the rest of the races, and that the children of the children of the first would become increasingly stronger. But she was not. Now she was there, lying, bruised, battered. He had tried to escape, away from the city trying to make her full of pain over his head destiny, but had failed.

When he had managed to hide from the guards and sneak out to the black forest, she had met with three of her companions, two men and a woman. She did not know their names but remembered their faces, some faces full of hate, some faces full of mockery.

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First they had thrown her a spell of chains, which were enclosed as silver-colored snakes in his arms and body. Then cuts filled her body, using very sharp knives so sharp that seemed to cut her soul into pieces. She had been thrown to the ground, they began to trample one, and again and again. Then they had started using magic to strike, and was now there, spitting blood from his mouth, waiting for an inevitable death.

Some time ago she had stopped expecting any help or mercy from the rest. She knew not to feel, if she had to feel angry about what they did to her, if she had to feel guilty for not knowing how to handle the magic, if she had to feel sad because she was going to die. She knew nothing.

She felt nothing when a dark shadow fell over one of his assailants, busting his head against the floor, filling it with blood, while the other two looked frightened.

She felt nothing when she saw the man take the heart of one of them, break through his body, take his hearth, drop it, to finally take the body of the latter, and threw it against women remained alive, throwing her to the floor. The woman looked terrified, and probably anyone would have done, because their appearance and presence were like an avenging angel. He owned five pairs of black wings, like shadows, stretching and moving as if he wanted to dominate everything with darkness.

He wore a gray hood covering his body, which was now stained red by blood. Finally he had yellow eyes, so penetrating that one felt as if looking at God. The winged man took a few quiet steps, and approaching to the woman, made a single hand movement, as if it were a knife, cut the neck veins, making roaring river of blood, as she writhed on the floor, like a fish out of water gasping for air before he died. After that, the man approached the woman of black and said ;

-Only the strong live, the weak die. You can choose to remain weak, or come with me and make you strong. It's up to you. –

The man said, looking at her with his yellow eyes. The woman sat down, crawling on the ground, leaving the weak woman was once there, leaving her to die forever there, to their fate, while a new one stand up, full of wounds, and was preparing to start new path of pain with her savior.