Within the beloved confines of the castle, a palpable tension charged the atmosphere, yet amidst the turmoil, a radiance emerged—Princess Aderah, the treasured daughter of King Elak. Her elegance and compassion radiated throughout Dorshan, capturing the hearts of all its inhabitants. Captivated by Igodo's enchanting stories of twinkling stars and ancient winds, she felt an undeniable connection to him. Though the Angels had explicitly forbidden romantic associations with those of royal lineage, the gentle pull of youthful love proved difficult to suppress.
One memorable afternoon, within the lush haven of the royal gardens—the pride of her mother's heritage—Aderah invited Igodo to stroll among the vibrant blooms. As they wandered beneath archways adorned with roses and trees heavy with silvery fruit, she spoke softly, her voice laced with warmth, "Please be careful where you step. The soil here is still tender, and the roots below are young."
A pure, innocent smile graced her lips, but what Aderah intended as gentle advice ignited a fierce fire within Igodo. In that instant, her well-meaning words felt like a blow to his pride. Time froze as she seemed to address him not as an equal, but from a position of superiority.
"Do you really think you can tell me what to do?" he challenged, his voice a low growl, laden with incredulous contempt.
Aderah blinked, stunned by his sudden fury. "I just meant—"
But her response was cut short, stifled by the overwhelming wave of rage that surged from him without warning. In a flash, Igodo, unable to contain his emotions, lashed out—not physically touching her, yet the force of his anger crashed down violently, sending her head striking against the intricately carved stone fountain that graced the garden's heart. The crack echoed through the air, sharp and dreadful, like the ominous toll of a bell.
In an instant, she collapsed, her fragile form sprawled lifelessly beneath the heavy boughs laden with blossoms, transforming the garden into a haunting scene.
Guards rushed in, their hurried footsteps mimicking the alarm in the air. Frantic screams shattered the stillness, and chaos erupted.
Samyaza arrived, just a moment too late—his magnificent wings unfurling in a display of horror as he took in the heartbreaking sight before him.
The Fall Begins
That fateful evening, as darkness enveloped the kingdom, the court was submerged in a stifling silence, each breath a struggle against the heavy stillness. The king did not explode with wrath; he did not unleash a torrent of curses upon the universe. Instead, he cradled his daughter's lifeless body in his arms, whispering her name like a desperate prayer that had already slipped away into nothingness.
Turning to Samyaza, who now stood like a towering mountain collapsing under the weight of his grief, Elak's voice pierced the silence like a sharp blade. "You promised me peace, Samyaza. You vowed loyalty to this kingdom." His eyes burned with a mix of sorrow and anger. "You assured me that your sons would not bring our downfall."
"This was not his true self," Samyaza replied, trembling in despair as his anguish consumed him. "I cannot comprehend what drove him. He was my son—he was meant for greatness, far beyond this…"
"He was your son," Elak shot back coldly, his expression hard as stone. "And he was a monster."
That night, King Elak proclaimed a royal decree: "The Nephilim are to be expelled from our cities. The Angels must return to the wilds. Should they remain, it will be as outlaws, not allies."
Throughout the lands, this command resonated in every city. Fear solidified into fury. And for the first time, mankind cast the Angels in the light of enemies.
Thus, the love story between angels and men was irrevocably transformed into a tragic tale.
In the hallowed silence where the Angels gathered, Samyaza, their fallen leader, bore the weight of despair. With bloodshot eyes, he addressed his companions, lamenting, "We have failed. Our downfall isn't through war or theft, but from pride. Our beloved children have become the tyrants we vowed to prevent."
His companions were enveloped in sorrow. Azazel, typically wise, remained silent, while Sariel cried glimmering tears onto the stone floor. Penemue, wracked with disbelief, vented his frustrations against the heavens.
"What do we do now?" Shamsiel asked, desperation in his voice as he sought Samyaza's guidance.
Looking toward the distant mountains, Samyaza declared, "We must protect our children from humanity—and humanity from them." Despite the anxiety rippling through the group, he continued, "If they turn against us, we will retreat. We vowed never to dominate humankind," he murmured, acknowledging their heavy moral duty.
As night deepened, the Angels stood together in grief, yet a flicker of resolve ignited within. Though the challenges ahead loomed large, they recognized that their very existence hinged on preserving humanity and redeeming their lost children.