The hall grew silent when Azrael stepped forward.
The priest's hand hovered above his head, trembling for a reason no one else could see. His lips moved in prayer, but his voice cracked as the staff in his hand began to glow.
Then—he froze.
His eyes widened, pupils trembling as if staring at something far beyond the boy before him.
A vision struck him.
A blazing angel, wings pure and golden, fell from the heavens. Its feathers burned away in black fire. Its radiant form twisted, wings rotting, eyes bleeding, beauty corroded into horror.
The seraph screamed as chains of shadow wrapped around it, dragging it into the abyss.
The priest staggered back, gasping for breath.
His voice broke into a shout that shook the children.
"Cursed!"
He pointed at Azrael with a trembling hand, face pale with terror.
"No wonder your mother was chosen for sacrifice! An abominable child like you doesn't deserve love… you are cursed by a Fallen Seraph!"
Gasps spread through the orphanage. The other children pulled away, fear in their eyes.
"Take him out! Chain him!" the priest roared. "A thing like this cannot be among the blessed!"
Cold iron shackles clamped around Azrael's wrists. He struggled like a child, tears streaking his face.
"W–Why?!" he cried, voice breaking. "I didn't do anything!"
But no one answered. To the priests, he was already less than human.
As he was dragged away, whispers followed him.
"Chain him well… such things are sold to the traders."
"Better in chains than among us…"
The words stabbed deeper than the shackles.
An eerie voice slipped into his mind, one no one else could hear.
"Be patient… the time will come."
Azrael's sobs shook his small frame. His hope for blessing had turned to chains..
And in that moment his fall began