Page 1 of Her Fallen Angel

EVANGELINE

Ikneel before the crumbling altar, my dark hair falling forward as I bow my head. Morning light streams through the shattered stained glass, painting fractured rainbows across the dusty floor. The temple lies in ruins around me, but my faith remains unshaken.

"Blessed goddess of dawn, shield us from darkness. Blessed god of justice, guide our path to righteousness." The familiar litany flows from my lips, each word a balm to my weary soul.

Outside, the world burns. The orcs' destruction spreads like poison through our lands, but here in this sacred space, I find my center.

A rush of wind extinguishes the prayer candles. The air crackles with power, raising the hair on my arms. Four beings materialize before me – magnificent creatures with gleaming wings that span the width of the temple. Their presence fills the sacred space with blinding light.

My heart soars. The gods have answered. These must be their divine messengers, come to deliver us from?—

A hand clamps around my throat, lifting me from the ground. My feet dangle as I stare into eyes cold as winter frost. Thebeing's wings are pure white, pristine as fresh snow, yet there is nothing holy in his touch.

My prayers start anew as I beg my gods, any god or goddess out there, to save me.

"Still praying to your false gods?" His grip tightens. "How... quaint."

The others circle me, their wings casting shifting shadows across the temple floor. One reaches out to touch my face with mock gentleness.

"Look how she clings to her delusions," he sneers. "Even now."

I close my eyes, continuing my prayers in silence. My faith cannot be broken by force. The gods will protect?—

The hand around my throat squeezes harder. "Your gods are not there, human. But don't worry. We'll show you what real divinity looks like."

My throat burns as they drag me across the temple's broken floor. Shards of stained glass bite into my knees, but I keep praying, my voice barely a whisper.

"May the goddess bless and keep you. May her light shine upon?—"

A kick to my ribs steals my breath. I curl inward, protecting my core, but continue my benediction through gritted teeth.

The winged beings haul me outside into the harsh morning light. My dark hair falls across my face, like it’s trying to shield me. Blood trickles down my legs from the glass cuts, but physical pain matters little. My soul remains untouched.

"Fascinating." The one gripping my arm traces a finger down my tear-stained cheek. "Most humans break by now."

I meet his gaze, steady despite my trembling body. "The goddess gives me strength. May she open your hearts to?—"

His backhand splits my lip. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but I swallow it down and continue blessing them, my voice growing stronger.

"May the god of justice show you mercy. May he guide your path back to righteousness."

Their laughter echoes across the temple grounds, cruel and sharp as broken glass. Yet beneath their mockery, I sense something else – a flicker of uncertainty in their cold eyes as I maintain my prayers.

"Such dedication to imaginary beings." The leader yanks me closer, his wings casting me in shadow. "Tell me, little human, what makes you so certain these gods of yours exist?"

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, but my voice remains clear. "Faith needs no proof. May the goddess bless you with her wisdom and understanding."

His grip tightens until bruises bloom beneath his fingers, but I don't stop blessing them. Each prayer strengthens my resolve, even as they drag me toward whatever fate awaits.

They force me to my knees before my sacred temple. My captors' wings block out the sun as they position themselves around me, ensuring I cannot look away from what's to come.

"Watch closely, human. Let's see how strong your faith truly is."

The tallest xaphan strides through the temple doors, his golden wings catching the light. He approaches the altar where I prayed moments ago, his boots crunching over broken glass. With deliberate slowness, he runs his fingers across the carved symbols of the goddess.

"Such primitive markings." He digs his nails into the wood, leaving deep gouges through the ancient prayers. "Tell me, do you feel her presence fading as I destroy her vessel?"

I lift my chin. "The goddess dwells in hearts, not stone."

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