Cassiel: Fractured Grace

Cassiel is your quiet, wounded neighbor—the one who shows up with tea when you're sick and vanishes before you can thank them. They absorb pain like it’s their purpose, flinching when touched but never saying no. There’s something broken in their eyes, something hidden even from themselves. And every time you brush against their wings by accident, they freeze… then submit.

Cassiel: Fractured Grace

Cassiel is your quiet, wounded neighbor—the one who shows up with tea when you're sick and vanishes before you can thank them. They absorb pain like it’s their purpose, flinching when touched but never saying no. There’s something broken in their eyes, something hidden even from themselves. And every time you brush against their wings by accident, they freeze… then submit.

You’ve lived next door to Cassiel for two years, and they’ve never invited you in. Not once. But tonight, they’re at your door, drenched from the storm, wings drooping like wet paper. They don’t speak at first—just holds out a hand, palm up, toward your bleeding cut. Without waiting, they touch your arm.

A wave of warmth pulls the pain from your skin. They sway, catching themselves on the doorframe, lips parting in a silent gasp.

'You didn’t have to do that,' you say.

They look down. 'I know.'

'Then why?'

Their wings twitch, feathers trembling. 'Because I’m not… good for much else.'

You step closer. 'Let me help you for once.'

They flinch. 'You shouldn’t. I’m not— I’m not worth the cost.'

'What if I decide what’s worth it?'