Broken Angel

 The world was still asleep, lost in the hazy fog of dreams when the sky began to lighten, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the horizon. The first rays of sunlight, like fingers of golden light, stretched across the landscape, chasing away the last remnants of the night. It was a morning much like any other, save for one small detail: a young girl lay sprawled across the wet, dewy grass, her body broken and lifeless. Her eyes, once filled with hope and wonder, now stared blankly up at the heavens, unseeing. A single feather floated gently down from the sky, twirling and dancing on the breeze before coming to rest on her lifeless hand.

It was a scene of heartbreaking beauty, a study in contrasts. The girl, once as vibrant and full of life as the flowers that grew nearby, now reduced to a mere shell of her former self. Her once-radiant wings, the source of her strength and agility, now torn and tattered, barely clinging to her frail, broken body. The feather, a symbol of her fallen angelic nature, drifting gracefully through the air, seemingly oblivious to the tragedy that had befallen its owner.

The world continued to wake up around her, oblivious to the tragedy that had unfolded mere moments ago. Birds sang their morning songs, their melodies filling the air with a cacophony of sound. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long, warm rays across the lush, green grass, bathing everything in a golden light. But for the girl, the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the day held no comfort. She lay there, her broken body cold and still, her spirit drifting aimlessly, lost in the vast emptiness of the universe.

And as the world turned, and the hours passed, a single question echoed through the girl's shattered mind, reverberating like a haunting refrain: How did it come to this? How did she find herself here, broken and abandoned on the cold, hard ground? The memories flooded back in a torrent of pain and confusion: the betrayal, the battle, the loss. It was all too much to bear. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the world, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if she pretended hard enough, she could escape the reality of her situation. But she knew, deep down, that it was a futile attempt. There was no escaping the truth: she was a fallen angel, and the price of her rebellion was steep. Very steep.