Yseult looked at the Angel, who had been alive when Ascendants were rising, and gods were falling, when the world was being remade in blood and fire. After all of this time, his strength should have reached a ridiculous level, even reaching the level of Ascendancy, but he was a cog in the machine, and his position had become fixed… and he had allowed this injustice to happen, and for this reason, he was going to die on this day.
Like all Angels that were born during the age of the gods, they were truly ageless unless they were killed. Perhaps this was one of the reasons they had lost all desires for advancement, or maybe they knew of secrets that only the Ascendants were worthy of… but at this moment, it no longer mattered.
Yseult remained silent, her long white hair being carried in the wind, highlighting the dual colored wings behind her… her curse and shame.
