We were taking a break in the courtyard when someone burst in, shouting, startling the peaceful birdsong. Lucifer jumped up, rushing to meet the panicked stranger. His face hardened as she spoke quickly; she grabbed his arms as if trying to drag him away, her long dark braids swinging with the movement.

“We have to hurry,” she cried, voice cracking from stress. “Or else it will be too late!”

“Is he in the village?” Lucifer asked, calm and contained.

“Yes. We have to hurry,” she repeated.

Lucifer looked back at me, still sitting on the stone bench. “Do you want to stay here, or follow?”

“I’ll come,” I said at once. Even through this blatantly urgent situation, my curiosity burned; I had never been down to see the town before, always being too occupied or injured to leave the manor.

The woman took off running and we hurried after her. I struggled to keep up with their speed, going faster in fear I would fall behind and get lost. The woman’s footsteps rose and fell gracefully, powerful legs pushing her forward at an alarming rate.

We followed a cobblestoned path down a slight decline, surrounded by trees, the vibrant green foliage creating spots of sun on the ground. Lucifer kept glancing back at me, worry made clear on his face. I shook my head. I can keep going.

The trees started to grow more spread out the longer we ran, and soon we emerged from the forest, sunlight blinding me. I stood there, blinking, amazed by the sight before me. Nestled between sheer cliffs were houses upon houses, some carved into the rock itself. Waterfalls tumbled off the cliffs before uniting into one river that curved through the village like a fat snake, simple bridges built over where it crosses with the small roads. People walked around in every stage of life, some holding baskets filled with fruits, others carrying pails of fresh water.

Each one was not without a smile or a pleased look as they chatted and laughed with one another, greeting everyone they walked past.

So, this is Eden. This is where the Fallen reside.

“Cassius!”

Lucifer’s shout shook me from my awe. My eyes found him on the edge of the village standing before a dirt path, worn down from years of use.

“Where did she go?” I asked, sliding up to him.

His brow furrowed. “She told me to wait here. That they will bring him to me.”

My stomach clenched, and the hairs on my nape prickled. “What’s happening?”

“She did not say, but I suppose we will find out soon.” He looked down the path at a group of people now running toward us. “Be careful,” he said, touching my cheek with a fleeting hand. “Everything about this is unpredictable.”

Shouts followed the group as they got close enough, and, with sickening horror, did I realize they were carrying someone. I caught sight of a bloodied hand brushing the ground before I forced myself to turn away.

What I recognized as the woman’s cry from earlier raised her voice above the rest. “Will he be okay?”

Four men, each carrying the stretcher, tried to shoo her away. “Give space for Sana too work!” one of them said roughly. “If you don’t, then he will die.”

The woman stumbled back, nearly falling onto the ground. Holding her shoulders, Lucifer steadied her. “Azealia,” he said gently, “listen to me. I need you to tell me what happened. Can you do that?"

She forced her breaths even, tears glistening on her brown skin. “Me and Florian went out to gather walnuts, from that grove of trees, and he just came out of nowhere, attacking Florian. It- it was so unexpected, we didn’t hear him coming, and Florian told me to go get help while he was distracted, and I ran, told Sana to send help, and then went to get you—”

“Azealia,” Lucifer said, speaking over her, frantic. “Who was it?”

“I- I don’t know! He didn’t say his name!”

“Did you see his eyes?” he urged, gripping her shoulders tighter. “What color were they?”

She stumbled over her words, then in a barely audible whisper said, “a terrible violet.”

Lucifer cursed under his breath, closing his eyes but not before I could read the fear in them. “Go warn the others,” he told Azealia, still clutching her shoulders. “Gather in the safe houses and bring the warriors to me. I will not have any more innocent blood spilled today.”

The woman nodded frantically, stumbling off in the direction that would bring her to the middle of the village where a tall tower stood, a bell attached to the top. The injured man was hurried off with her.

“Go with them.”

I did not realize he was speaking to me until he grabbed my hand. “Why?”

“Cassius, please, not now,” he begged.

I ignored him. “What’s happening, Lucifer? Why do you have safe houses?”

He faltered, not meeting my eyes. “In case of emergency.”

“What emergency?”

“Should the Sins ever choose to take revenge on me. That emergency."

“Why aim at the village?”

“Cassius, please,” he repeated, cupping my face, our noses barely touching. “I can’t lose you, too. Not now.”

I did not have the heart to say he would lose me. One day, possibly soon, if we do not find the cure. But I am not so cruel as to let the anger coursing through my veins to speak for me. Seraph Gabriel taught me that. I placed my hands atop his, staring deep into his golden gaze and memorizing each shade of vibrant color, how the sun catches it just so, making them shine as much as his hair. “Is it dangerous?”

“Very much so,” he answered quietly, his throat visibly rolling as he swallowed hard. “You would have been safer at the manor in your weakened state. For this, I am sorry.”

Indeed, the previous night had been a struggle, the decay spreading further across my wings and robbing me of sleep. I had admitted that I felt worse for wear this morning, and he had insisted we take an immediate rest from our research. My anger faded and I pulled his face impossibly closer, foreheads touching, lips separated by the thinnest sliver of air. “I chose to come. Do not be sorry.” My voice was softer than I had intended it to be. “You must come back safe.”

He breathed in deeply. “I will. For you.”

I wondered what would happen if I leaned in, the distance but a hair’s width from his lips, pressing my own against his; an action only lovers do. But I do not, pulling back from him, not having realized how close our bodies were. “Where do I go?” I asked, clearing my throat, the spell broken.

“Follow the dark stoned path,” he said, nodding to a thin road that was a deeper shade than the others. “There will be others there. The warriors will announce when it is safe to come out.”

I find my stomach twisting despite his reassured words. “Do not keep me waiting.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He smiled, easing my nerves just the slightest.            

With one last fleeting glance at him, I turned, following the path he pointed out. It took me through the village that I would have been more enthusiastic to explore if it weren’t for the heavy situation that had befallen us. Others rushed with me, streaming out from their homes in a calm hurry, catching up to friends and sharing gentle, reassuring touches. I followed the crowd, wondering if this were all the angels cast down from the Holy Lands. The population was larger than I imagined, but really it was no more than all of Seraph Gabriel’s messenger forces.

This many Fallen. This many like me. This many to perish, flightless and broken.

A child rushed past me, his shoulder bumping against my elbow. I stared; he looked no older than thirteen. His life, too, will end young. Unless we find the cure to end this. A sudden weight dropped in my stomach at the realization of just how precarious this plan was. I know the outcome if we fail—death. But so far it had just only been my death, a death affecting me. Not these strangers, doing their best to live happily despite knowing their futures, and certainly not children, who have yet to truly see the world and all its wonders.

Then, Lucifer will be trapped in a cycle of life and death, always thinking of who the next victim will be. It will never stop.

It must stop. It must. If not for myself, then for the sake of those in the future who will Fall. A flame replaced the heavy weight, giving me this new type of courage: the courage of forging ahead. Unstoppable, relentless, determined. And I will die fighting for this chance of life, of living the way it was meant to be lived. I hope one day will come when we no longer live in this fear of death, but live in the face of it, laughing and saying you can’t take this from me. I look forward to the day where we are not defined by what we are, the Fallen, but what we can be.

Lucifer had told me as we watched the stars that we are not defiled as they think us to be. The Falling does not choose. It does not know our pasts, our choices. It does not label us as sinners. He spoke to me, tracing each freckle on my skin as I hoped he would, saying that if the Falling was seeking sin in its victims, then his wings would be nothing but dust.

I had asked him to show me.  I remember how his back faced me, his robes pooled around his waist, his hair nearly silver from the light of the moon. His tattoo, each one of them unique to angels as fingerprints, made from bold lines that contrasted with his appearance but just as beautiful as he is. Pale light illuminated his wings, bouncing off the snowy white feathers that lined up in tight, neat rows.

If the Falling is our judgment, then its reasoning should change. Do not let it define you, Cassius, he had said, brushing back a stray lock of hair. You have done nothing to inherit this wrath the world has so cruelly pushed upon you.

Do not blame yourself.

I don’t. Not anymore. Not after these past few days that somehow raveled into weeks, the time blurring the edges of my reality. It made me think about the time I had left—it made me realize how little time I may have left. The Falling is a process; it progresses differently for everyone. Some, Lucifer had told me, were able to survive for a few years. Others were gone within a fortnight.

I didn’t want to count down my days. I had stopped searching my feathers for a new darkened spot each time I brought my wings out. They had weakened significantly, barely able to support my weight when flying, trembling with effort when simply gliding. So, I stopped trying to soar through the skies like I once did, stopped trying to touch the clouds.

Acceptance was the hardest part, but also the most freeing.

How strange.