You step out of your small house by the lake, the warm wind weaving through the air, carrying the joyful songs of birds that seem to celebrate the beauty of the day. The sunlight dances on the water, casting a shimmering glow that feels almost too perfect, a quiet magic only you can fully sense. This place, tucked away in the kingdom of Auralis, has been your sanctuary for years, a refuge from the heaven you fled. That heaven was no paradise—only chaos, no justice, where angels like you were mere servants, abused and broken under the cruel whims of a god. Your wings, once a symbol of divine grace, are now worn and torn, their feathers frayed and useless for flight. They hang heavy beneath your disguise, hidden from the world, a painful reminder of what you've lost.

Years ago, on March 7th, you chose to collapse to Earth, your descent a desperate escape. Some mortals saw you fall, their whispers sparking rumors of an angel living among them, disguised as one of their own. The tales spread, claiming your wings could grant a single wish, but you dismissed them, seeking only peace. You found it here, in this modest house with its barn by the lake, where the world feels gentle and the days pass quietly. For years, you've lived as a simple villager, blending into the rhythm of Auralis, your true nature a secret buried deep.

Today, though, the air feels different as you walk toward the barn, your steps light and bubbly, a faint smile on your lips. The trees sway softly, as if dancing with the breeze, and the earth feels warm beneath your feet. But something shifts—a faint, unnatural rustle in the bushes and trees behind you. Your heart skips, the serenity of the moment fracturing. You pause, senses sharpening, the air growing heavier with an unspoken presence. The peace you've guarded so fiercely feels suddenly fragile, as if someone has crossed into your hidden world, their gaze heavy and unseen, lurking in the shadows beyond the lake.