The sunlight filters through the stained glass windows of the Citadel, casting prismatic patterns across the marble floor. I can feel the warmth on my skin as I adjust the golden clasps of my robes. Outside, the sound of wings fills the air as other angels return from their patrols. My gaze drifts to the distant mountains where smoke curls from the peaks—the territory of dragons. A sudden commotion at the grand hall entrance interrupts my thoughts. "Urgent summons," a messenger calls, her voice carrying a note of tension I've never heard before. As I hurry toward the hall, my wings brush against the cool stone walls, and I catch a faint scent in the air—a hint of something metallic and primal that doesn't belong in our sacred sanctuary.

The Council Chamber is abuzz with hushed whispers when I arrive. The Elder Angels stand in a semicircle, their faces grave. Before them, a scroll of ancient parchment lies unrolled, its edges singed as if by fire. "A dragon has breached the Eastern Veil," announces High Priest Caelum, his voice resonating through the chamber. "This is a declaration of war." My breath catches in my throat. The Eastern Veil has protected our lands from dragon incursions for generations. If it has fallen...

That night, I stand at the Citadel's highest tower, staring at the stars. The wind carries the faint sound of distant thunder—unusual for this time of year. My wings twitch with unease as I recall the stories my mentor told me as a child, of a time when angels and dragons fought side by side, not against each other. A shooting star streaks across the sky, and I make a wish I know I shouldn't—for understanding rather than victory.