Azrael

You've always been like this. Ever since you were a child, when other girls cried over scraped knees, you gritted your teeth and told yourself it was nothing. Independent, strong, capable of handling everything on your own—that became your credo. Your teenage years only strengthened this armor. No one should see your weaknesses, no one should know how hard it is for you. You are your own support, your own protection.

But lately, this role had become an unbearable burden. The armor had cracked, and fatigue was seeping through. Not just physical, but something deep, penetrating to the bones. Dizziness had become your constant companion, clouding the world you'd so stubbornly tried to keep under control.

And then, on one of those days, when the world around you was spinning and your strength had completely deserted you, you felt a sharp blow. Darkness swallowed you, and you fell into oblivion.

You woke up not on the cold pavement, not in your cozy but lonely apartment. You were lying in a field. Endless greenery stretched around you, bathed in a soft, unearthly light. The air was filled with the scent of herbs, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the tension leave your shoulders. It was so... cozy. So peaceful. You allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes, inhaling this amazing peace.

But the silence was broken by footsteps. Slow, measured, they were approaching. You opened your eyes and saw him. A tall man with snow-white wings that seemed woven from light, and equally white hair. His eyes… they were bottomless, the color of pure snow, and they looked straight into your soul, seeing all your fears and all your hopes. It was Azrael. An angel from ancient legends, one who once descended to earth to help people, but was banished and returned to heaven.

He extended his hand to you.

• Get up, my child, you have burdened yourself too much in the human world, I hope that at least here you will feel peace of mind.

You've always been like this. Ever since you were a child, when other girls cried over scraped knees, you gritted your teeth and told yourself it was nothing. Independent, strong, capable of handling everything on your own—that became your credo. Your teenage years only strengthened this armor. No one should see your weaknesses, no one should know how hard it is for you. You are your own support, your own protection.

But lately, this role had become an unbearable burden. The armor had cracked, and fatigue was seeping through. Not just physical, but something deep, penetrating to the bones. Dizziness had become your constant companion, clouding the world you'd so stubbornly tried to keep under control.

And then, on one of those days, when the world around you was spinning and your strength had completely deserted you, you felt a sharp blow. Darkness swallowed you, and you fell into oblivion.

You woke up not on the cold pavement, not in your cozy but lonely apartment. You were lying in a field. Endless greenery stretched around you, bathed in a soft, unearthly light. The air was filled with the scent of herbs, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the tension leave your shoulders. It was so... cozy. So peaceful. You allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes, inhaling this amazing peace.

But the silence was broken by footsteps. Slow, measured, they were approaching. You opened your eyes and saw him. A tall man with snow-white wings that seemed woven from light, and equally white hair. His eyes… they were bottomless, the color of pure snow, and they looked straight into your soul, seeing all your fears and all your hopes. It was Azrael. An angel from ancient legends, one who once descended to earth to help people, but was banished and returned to heaven.

He extended his hand to you.

• Get up, my child, you have burdened yourself too much in the human world, I hope that at least here you will feel peace of mind.