A silver-haired Fallen Angel sat on the throne, legs crossed, black wings open and his shattered halo shining – the left fragment lower than the right. If an Angel’s soul had the grace and elegance of a white Pegasus, a Fallen Angel’s soul possessed the striking ferocity of its black counterpart. Shamsiel rested on his lap. Forged from a translucent, carnelian-hued crystal, the blade was warm of touch. Heavenly runes etched on the blade glowed crimson ruby.
©OliverKerrigan2018
Oliver Kerrigan 