The sky is getting dark, just like the days. The shadows are free to roam the earth, destroying everything in their path, leaving only death and disaster behind. And the innocents... I hear their voices screaming louder and louder, swallowing any other sound that could disturb the silence of the night, transforming the branches of the trees in long arms with claws, descending towards me, wanting to grab me. I try to get up and escape from them, but my body is covered in blood, and I suddenly feel an acute pain in the back, paralyzing me with every move I make.

As I lay there, on the blood-stained ground, I start praying, with dying hope that I might reach out to God in my final moments, that he might have mercy on my soul and save His daughter from the approaching darkness. But He doesn't answer, He's deaf to my calling, only their voices, getting inside of my head, asking me for help, invading every little tiny space of my mind. They are crying my name...

Shiray!

*

When I woke up, I was soaked in sweat and breathing heavily, like I had just run five hours straight. My cheeks were wet from the tears, and so was my pillow. I stayed still for a few moments, keeping my eyes closed and trying to regain my calm, and then I took my left hand to my face, to get my hair out of it, but, as I did that, I realized it was bleeding pretty bad from a deep cut, staining the sheets and my nightgown.

"I must have hurt myself in my sleep. Or maybe they found a way to kill me without being next to me...", I said to myself giggling and got out of the bed to tend to my wound. While I was washing the blood off, I felt my heart pounding, and shivers crawling on my skin. I raised my head to look out of the window and then I sensed it. Death.

The night was here.

**

I can't remember the fall, nor the pain of falling. There's this fog clouding my memories of that time, the memories of my people. After the exile took place, many of us couldn't even remember what we were before it; It felt like they were barely born into this whole new world as if they've been humans for all their life. They were tortured and killed without knowing the reason, without remembering the supreme creatures that we once were. We can't recall anything in detail, just fragments, pieces that we all put together to find a reason, to discover our identity.

Funny thing how the last thing I saw before I lost my conscience was the sunset. Wild and beautiful, covering the whole land in magical colors, hiding all the bloodshed, the corpses; the sunset, allowing them to walk freely in search of new victims. The end of a day marking the end of us. Then all got dark, and for the first time in my life, I felt fear.

The next moment I remember was that I woke up in a field of daisies, with the moon already up high in the sky, staring right into my soul - "I must have slept for hours", I thought to myself. My soul... I used to have one. I looked around, and there were others surrounding me, some still unconscious, some barely waking up, confused and in pain. Some of them were screaming.

I don't know how to explain it, but the moment we fell, we also lost a part of our soul; when we woke up, there was this pain echoing inside of us, though no visible wound existed - we called it the loss of our essence, and some of us would later go mad because of it. It hasn't been easy for us. Many decided to forget that day, and they were successful in doing it. I'm still haunted by nightmares about it.

This situation was terrifying for everyone, as many questions were raised, but no answers were given. We were little lost lambs in search of a shepherd to guide us all. We had no idea what to do from then on, where to go, or where to search. Now, all we have knowledge of is that the gates to our Heaven were closed, sealed, and none of us had the keys to open them again. No way to go back. Is this justice? Have we been forsaken?

The elders know as much as we do, and to this day, they repeat the same thing to the young ones. They say it just sort of happened during the war, while we were helping humanity - they told us we received this life as divine punishment for interfering with what we had no business, to begin with. They still dislike talking about it, even though it happened ages ago; maybe they know that we will never see our home again; maybe they know there's no paradise waiting for us after we die.

To be here... It wasn't a choice they made, they strictly respected the rules - They were collateral damage, I guess you could say. We were told and trained to know our place.

As keepers of the balance, we were supposed to watch, observe, and take measures only if the events taking place can clearly affect the balance of the Universe. Some of us listened, while some of us thought it's an unfair fight - the forces of darkness aren't something you can put up with if you are just a powerless human. We tried to avoid the extinction of a species, so we descended to their help, ready to fight their war, ready to save their pathetic lives with the cost of our own.

Little did we know that our species would be the one to become near extinct. For when the punishment came, it was delivered to all of us - to those who watched, and to those who fought; my whole kind was sent down here, on this slaughtering ground, and we suddenly faced our own fight for survival. We were no longer observers, but part of the casualties.

"I find myself in the middle of a battleground. I remember seeing Sellel yelling in pain; him bent over her, with blood smeared on his clothes. His smile, going from ear to ear, revealing his long canines, his beastly features; the red flicker of rage in his eyes, when his teeth went for her neck, devouring the flesh, but not killing her. Then he ripped her wings apart, right in front of my eyes. I can still hear her screams sometimes - She's asking for my help, but I look away every time. I'm afraid he'd do the same thing to me, even though he's not physically here."

After the fall, the humans were the ones who responded to our cry for help. They gladly accepted us into their lives, they would offer us shelter and food, while we offered them protection in return for their hospitality; they would laugh and suffer with us; they would consider us their friends. At least, this is how they called us... Friends and saviors of their kind. Year after year, we fought together against the night-walkers, and slowly, the war started to show signs of coming to an end, but soon enough, word spread around about the properties of our hearts, the powers people could obtain if they'd consume them.

No one knows who started the rumors. The certain thing is that it was true - A scary thing to know there's someone out there who knows us better than we do. Of course, only chaos followed. The greed must be such an awful feeling, for we had become hunted by humans, and prey for night-walkers. We discovered the feelings of betrayal and disappointment, as the sides switched, and mankind and night-walkers would start to collaborate, while we became the enemy of both species. Peace would be offered in exchange for my kind.

You see, the effects of our hearts are stronger if they are fresh, so humans, viewing us as nothing more than cattle, would set out traps to capture us, and deliver us to darkness. Or the ones who wanted protection, anyway... Others were having their own plans regarding us since they found out that our hearts give them special powers, and they formed a rebel group.

For the night creatures - it's more than simple powers that they crave - they gain the ability to walk in broad daylight if our hearts are consumed regularly, and their hunger is greatly diminished if they fed on our blood. But it is not enough to kill us, no... They like to torture us, rip us apart limb by limb; they want to see the fear in our eyes; they want us to beg them to stop.

Sometimes I watch, I hide in the shadows and just watch the sacrifices. My heart didn't grow dark over the years, but it sure is filled with pain and remorse, so I just want to be there for my fellow comrades the moment they die. Our bond is still strong enough for them to feel the presence of my spirit, even if I'm far away... I will not let them die alone.

As time went by, and more and more of our soldiers died in battle, my race chose to hide as a way to save itself from destruction. Clans were created, when we started to argue about the safest choice as a shelter, and many of them went underground, as it seemed the best solution at that time. Now we populate subterranean tunnels, caves, mountain passages, usually situated near or under forests, so we can have a place to hunt or scavenge for food.

Our existence itself became a myth to some since nowadays it is quite a privilege to see one of us. Such a shame, beautiful creatures of light, condemned to live their lives in the darkness, while the darkness itself baths in the sun.

But this is not the saddest to ever happen to my kind.

A lot of us took the road of erasing any evidence that they are part of this race, so, no matter how brutal it may sound, they decided to cut their wings, choosing to live the rest of their lives disguised as a human. They said it is easier to just blend in. Even the ones who live underground took this road and gave up their wings and their last sparkle of power.

You see, a part of the power we possess comes from our wings - The moment we lose them, it's the moment we stop being celestial creatures, we become mere remnants of one. How could I live with that shame? Only a few refused to do it, for they considered there will really be no chance of survival if we lose all of our advantages. I am one of them.

As you can imagine, this didn't stop the other races from killing us, as they consider killing a punishment for ruining their plans. They can barely use us in the human form, but target practice is always a necessity. We know better.

***

"Are you lost in your thoughts again, Shiray?" Ennyel asked while putting his hand on my shoulder, gently grabbing it.

"More blood has been spilled. There is a faint scent of it in the air." Drips of blood were slipping down my hand, falling on the floor, since I didn't manage to finish bandaging the cut.

"Yes, from your hand. You've been having nightmares again."

"How can you be so ignorant? Order me to go, I beg!"

"By the time you get there, I don't think there will be anyone left to save."

Ennyel was one of the Elders, and also the one who created "The table of Judgment", where the Elders meet once a week and every step of our existence is decided and voted "for" or "against", though, ironically, he was also one of the first angels to give up his wings. He gave up the fight, but, somehow, he still has a word to say when we speak about our so-called freedom and future.

"So, what now? You want me to turn my head to the other side and pretend everything is fine? Should I pretend that we are not dying?" I felt the silver of my eyes stung by tears of frustration, though I was trying my best to hold myself together, especially since I was standing in front of him. We weren't exactly on the best terms.

The Elder was now standing in front of me, with his grey hair falling free over his shoulders. He didn't look older than a thirty-year-old human, but to be honest, aging badly was never really a problem for us. In his eyes would be quite easy to find the deep blue ocean, since their colors weren't too distinct, but in the blue of Ennyel's eyes, you could also find a dose of cruelty. Truth is, I don't recall a time when Ennyel was a nicer version of himself.

He never talked about his memories of when he was in Heaven, he would avoid this subject at any cost, telling us that the past doesn't really matter right now, though, most of the time, it was hard to tell if he did it because it was painful for him or because he was sort of enjoying his life in the present. He always considered himself the most important of all the Elders, and acted as if he would be our ruler; surprisingly, the other Elders tolerate his behavior, perhaps because they feel it's a heavy burden to be responsible for the lives of others.

He grabbed my chin with his hand and looked me straight in the eye as if he was passing judgment unto me.

"Should I remind you about the events that followed your last request? We lost twenty of our own." I could see a smirk on his face, just for a second, but it was definitely there. His hate for me was stronger than my urge to kill him, and I must say, there was a lot of willpower needed to refrain myself from doing it.

"I will go alone."

"You might die", he responded, with an emotionless, cold voice, clearly not worried about my fate.

"Then I will do you a favor. I see no downsides. Do you?"

I was no fool, I knew that he has his reasons for wanting me alive, or else I would've been dead long ago; even though we were angels once, now we aren't any better than those we are fighting against. We didn't stay pure and kind, untainted - angels who kept themselves that way are either dead or legends - we had to adapt, to let ourselves be corrupted by human nature in order to survive.

You can't live a peaceful existence, if war is knocking on your door, inviting itself in, and threatening your life; you fight back, or you let it claim your life.

"You have until dawn", Ennyel said with a straight face, turning his back on me. Before going out the door, he felt the need to express his undoubtful concern:

"And do something about your hand! We wouldn't want them to notice your presence, would we?"