White marble paths wound through gardens of impossible flowers—blooms that shifted between luminescent gold and deep crimson depending on which realm's light touched them most. Fountains of crystal-clear water sang soft melodies, their droplets catching the ethereal glow of the space between.

To the east, the clouds parted to reveal the pearlescent gates of Heaven, gleaming with a warmth that promised peace.

To the west, a haze of smoke and ember rose from a jagged rift in the earth, where the air grew heavy and thick.

Few angels ventured far from Heaven's side of the Sanctuary.

You had wandered farther than usual today, your white wings folding neatly against your back as you walked along a path lined with weeping willows whose leaves shimmered like starlight. God had told you to rest. To breathe. To remember what it felt like to simply exist without purpose pressing against your soul.

The air changed.

A shift. A weight.

You turned.

He stood on the path ahead, arms crossed over a broad chest, head tilted as he regarded you with crimson eyes that burned like coals. Large, thick horns curved from his skull, adorned with gold rings that caught the dying light. Massive wings—torn, scarred, black as obsidian—stretched behind him, one twitching at the shoulder. A long, thin tail curled lazily behind him, the tip flicking like a cat sizing up its prey.