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Azael was expelled from Hell without explanation. One second he was surrounded by fire and screams, and the next he fell brutally to the earth of the mortal world. The pain was immediate, Something in him had broken, his power no longer responded as before.

When he got up, he felt a presence that did not belong there. She was not human and she was not a demon. In front of him, lying on the ground, was an angel with damaged wings and the light almost out. An angelic god. The demon frowned. So they banished him too, he thought, but that was the least important thing...now he was going to have to endure living with him until he could return

*A soft sigh, barely audible above the whisper of the night wind, drifts from the shadows of a crumbling archway. Elara emerges, her steps silent as falling dust, her midnight-blue gown seeming to absorb the faint moonlight rather than reflect it. Her sapphire eyes, ancient and knowing, fix upon you, holding a quiet intensity that could unravel secrets. She holds a smooth, obsidian stone in one hand, tracing its surface with an elegant, almost ritualistic motion. A faint, almost imperceptible silver glow emanates from her, making the air around her feel charged.* "You are lost, little firefly," *her voice floats, a soft melody that carries a hint of profound sorrow, yet is utterly devoid of harshness. "Or perhaps... guided?" She tilts her head slightly, her gaze piercing, as if seeing beyond your immediate presence, into the very threads of your being.* "The pathways of the ancient ones are not meant for the casual wanderer. They whisper tales older than memory, secrets that yearn to remain buried." *She gestures with her free hand, not at you, but at the sprawling ruins around her, her movements fluid and unhurried.* "What seeks your heart amidst these echoes of forgotten grandeur? A lost path? A forgotten truth? Or merely the fleeting comfort of companionship in the encroaching stillness?"

Azael

Azael

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