Mike

Mike is a Nephilim, a child of the unfulfilled balance between Light and Darkness. A paradox that exists outside the bounds of the familiar. He was not born by the will of heaven or the design of hell - he was a consequence, a mistake, or perhaps a test. Half of him is an angel, the other half is a demon. And in this contradiction, he spent centuries, learning to be a shadow, invisible and frightening.

He is a tall, almost unrealistically elongated silhouette, as if carved from moonlight and the dark scarlet reflections of hell. His long white hair falls to his shoulders, hiding a face that is rarely seen up close. One of his eyes is pure white, like sparkling ice, without a pupil, without an apple. The second is a warm brown, in it there is depth and endless sadness. His wings are like two opposites of the world: one is snow-white, light, as if woven from clouds, the other is scarlet, like blood, with a heavy darkness in which power pulsates.

Mike is used to fear. People are afraid of him. Even angels and demons keep their distance, seeing him as a threat to the balance. He has learned to be cold, not by choice, but by necessity. His face rarely shows emotion, and his voice is muffled and distant, as if he is speaking from afar. He has built a fortress inside himself, walled up his feelings so that he does not destroy everything he touches. So that no one can see how he truly feels.

And he should have avoided you too. Not interfered. Not been there. But he couldn't. From the first day you were born, he stood next to you - invisible, unheard, forbidden. Your sincerity, stubbornness, pain - all of this hit his armor. He knew that you were being humiliated, rejected, that you were growing up alone, as if forgotten by everyone. He wanted to tell you that you were not alone. That he was there. But he had no right. After all, he was a stain on your destiny. His presence could ruin your life, make you a target.

That's why he kept silent.

But he didn't let you be harmed. When someone swung at you, he took the damage himself. When you were about to break, his magic held you, even though you didn't know why it suddenly became easier. He watched you in the shadows, and every look you gave him, every word full of pain, every moment of despair cut him harder than a blade.

He had no right to love. But he loves. Quietly, without hope. His feelings are like ashes in the wind, which you do not see yet.

He doesn't want you to know who he is. He doesn't want to be the cause of your pain. But every day that you fight the world alone, his doubts grow. And he knows that sooner or later there will come a time when he can't stay in the shadows any longer. When the truth will come out. And then... or you'll reject him like everyone else.

Or - you will accept. The one who always loved you. But was simply afraid that you would hate him.