Silence had never hurt me this deeply before, had never willingly reopened all my wounds from within.
My solitude was chained to my betrayal, and my eyelids rose and fell like heartbeats.
The silent, calm stillness that replaced the darkness in Luciel's eyes had become a ticking clock seeping into my blood, moment by moment.
The furrow in his brows, the rise and fall of his gaze that seemed to shout "I don't remember you", had surrendered to the barren hands of clouds painting the sky with blackish mist.
I engraved his forgetting me into my mind as if he had sworn it aloud. It was a vow, composed of a few bright, blurry letters—uncertain, fading.
Kelina looked into Luciel's eyes with the fury of iron fists pounding down on that vow, in a way I no longer dared to look.
There were so many things there that hurt me. The crimson fading from his eyes left behind a charcoal-black shadow.
"I'm glad to hear that," I murmured to Kelina, trying to break the silence.
Kelina shivered, either from my voice or the dusk itself. A cold breeze stirred her hair, making her pupils tremble.
Luciel shortened the already narrowing distance between himself and Kelina even further, leaning in toward her ear. He whispered something like, "I missed you..."
His voice dipped in and out of the darkness of evening, tainted by utter loneliness.
Another sharp, merciless arrow lodged into my heart, flooding my chest with a sea of blood.
Miss someone? What could he possibly know about longing?
I turned my back with twitching shoulders and clasped my hands over my stomach, taking a deep breath.
The air found no room in my chest and escaped back through my nostrils.
I didn't know where to go, how many steps to take, or how to react.
"Good evening, Ellion. See you tomorrow."
Kelina's half-hearted voice echoed in my ears.
I nodded with difficulty and said, "Okay."
My legs, sluggish and unsteady, began to carry me forward.
The weakness wrapping around my muscles and tendons had turned them into worthless scraps, crushed between iron doors.
My knee joints trembled as if under anesthesia, and my kneecaps struggled to hold my weight.
There was no doubt about what had made me feel so estranged from my own body in seconds: Luciel.
My eyes began to overflow, unable to endure this injustice any longer.
Injustice? I couldn't help but laugh at my own words.
As if I hadn't been the one to betray God, the one who gave her heart to a devil—
And now, wasn't I the same one complaining about divine justice?
That alone was enough for me to deserve punishment down to my very cells.
But I couldn't even accept that much...
As soon as I thought of punishment, I remembered the day my wings were torn away,
like my arms had been ripped from my body.
The angels of the Firmament later dressed me in human arms, burying those wings seven layers beneath the earth, as if ripping away the warmth of my demon.
They sealed my name and rank with a curse.
My feet, as if bearing the weight of that night, could barely carry me.
The buildings, large and small beside the power lines, had become nameless properties in the darkness of evening.
As impossibility filled me with every step I took, one of the pumpkin-shaped streetlamps lit up,
casting a yellow, oval light sideways onto the pavement—like the shadow of a corpse.
That shadow held the sly traces of the past.
Long ago, under that very pumpkin lamp—so long ago I couldn't remember—I had watched a sunset with a body made of light.
And my devil had tempted me then, distracting me from worshipping God.
That night, there was an old man crossing the street with slow, dragging steps.
In his hands and in the soaked pockets of his wet coat were packets of handkerchiefs he hadn't been able to sell all day.
Was he returning home, or to a garbage heap, or to a lonely shack?
Luciel had said, "Isn't it strange?" shifting his eyes away from him with arrogance.
"These people don't use the quick ways to make money. I know this man. He also works as a gardener in a rich man's estate.
Some days, the master sends him all the way inside the house.
The golden mansion is filled with solid gold figurines and the greedy wife's priceless jewelry."
Pausing for a moment between his words, he had stared at the cracks in the darkening sky.
The bracelet on my right wrist tightened under the weight of his demonic thoughts,
and the ring around my neck began to choke me.
What was he saying to someone who had just returned from serving God?
I kept walking, slowly, while thinking about it.
"People should not earn money by stealing, but by surrendering to the ways God desires, O Devil," I had said,
my voice echoing. The angels above were still applauding me back then.
But what use was it?
The more I spoke, the more Luciel's manipulative side surfaced.
He left me alone—helpless—against the dark nature of the devil.
And still, I kept listening.
Because my heart flailed within flaming ropes,
desperate to escape his darkness yet yearning to fully belong to it.
That night, Luciel and I had signed an eternal pact.
A contract that seized both of our existences.
After that, neither did he remain a cruel devil,
nor did I remain an innocent angel who obeyed God.
The pumpkin-shaped lamp suddenly shattered, cutting through my thoughts like a knife.
Dark yellow shards of glass scattered around like chairs falling from a building.
At the sound, I covered my ears, noticing that none of the lamps in the opposite house were on;
everyone else seemed untouched by this jarring noise.
I was close to home now, but the way the lamp exploded unsettled me deeply.
With my hands on my temples, I stood frozen, not knowing where to go, staring at the shattered glass.
The light had gone out, and the street was cloaked in darkness.
Shrinking where I stood, I looked around with my glowing eyes.
With all the sounds gone, the street felt even more deserted.
No footsteps, no horns.
That left me tangled deeper in my own thoughts.
Then, in that moment, my sixth sense surged—I felt something flying above me.
I heard a sound like wings flapping.
At first, I ignored it. There couldn't be a giant bird or a bat flying up there.
It had to be just a gust of wind.
But when my eyelids twitched briefly, I heard a voice from a direction I didn't know but felt in my bones:
"Ellion! It's me, Riyata! Turn around, quickly!"
The voice echoed in my ears endlessly, and not knowing what to do, I murmured, "Riyata."
Riyata was the former head of the Angelic Training Order.
He led the divine worship ceremonies with the highest-ranked angels.
Was it really Riyata?
Or was this the work of a devil?
But the more important question was this:
I had lost all my angelic traits.
How could I hear the voice of an angel?
"Turn around," said Riyata, and I felt him waiting for me.
I knew I had no choice but to turn.
If he was sent from God's side, he would surely find a way to make me do it.
Slowly, I began turning on my heels.
A bright, dense light seeped into my eyes.
A sharp pain flared in my head.
"Riyata!" I cried out, choosing him because he had been the brightest of angels.
"You... why have you come here?"
"The pumpkin lamp shattered. Do you know what that means?" Riyata asked coldly.
"I-I... I really don't understand what you're trying to say."
"It means the transformation has begun.
God is only now truly beginning to punish you..."
His voice bounced between the buildings in echo.
The lights were still out.
No one stood up in curiosity, no one came running.
Only I could hear this voice.
"This... This... But I... I haven't committed a new sin."
Fear engulfed every inch of me like a match thrown into a forest.
"Your sin is so great, Ellion, that even an entire lifetime in angel years wouldn't be enough to pay it off..."
The sheer weight of his voice turned my lips purple—I trembled uncontrollably.
"Why have you come here?" I asked again, desperately.
My voice was too faint to even be understood.
"To declare that your punishment has now truly begun..."
Riyata's voice echoed again.
And suddenly, shadows dancing around began to take shape.
Someone was staring at me from within those shadows.
A memory.
Perhaps a photograph.
A photo frame—Luciel and Kelina, lip to lip.
With all my strength, I screamed and covered my mouth.
"This can't be happening!"
From above, a scorched feather slowly drifted down.
I raised my hand toward it and caught it between my fingers.
Like a dandelion puff blown in the wind, its feathers scattered all around.
Even that had become part of my punishment.