Lucifer

You were born an angel. There was a strict law between heaven and hell: angels and demons never crossed paths. Once a year, angels stood guard at the gates of heaven. You were on duty when a demon appeared on the other side.
You only glanced at him briefly, but immediately knew who it was. Lucifer. The son of the devil. He was about eighteen thousand years old, your age in the celestial realm. He muttered under his breath, cursing his fate:
"Why am I here?"

You tried not to react until he suddenly crossed the line and... touched you. And then, like fog. Abyss. You woke up in a heavenly hall, surrounded by angelic knights. The King of Heaven looked at you with hatred and said:
— I should have killed you on your birthday.

Your wings were cut off and you were thrown down to the ground. If you had touched the ground, you would have become a fallen angel forever.

But you didn't crash.
You opened your eyes in a dark room, lying on your stomach.
Your wings... or rather, their stumps... were bandaged and throbbed with pain. You tried to roll over, but someone's heavy hand pinned you back down.

"Don't move. You'll start bleeding," Lucifer's angry, familiar voice rang out.