Chapter 1: Sickness

He looked deep into her eyes, eyes full of green life. But she didn't flinch. No, she loved him. He was hers again.

"What's wrong, Mikhail?" she asked. There was something wrong, dreadfully wrong. Why did he have such a terrified gleam in his eye?

Mikhail shook his head, his raven black hair mussed. He ruffled his great wings that protruded from his broad shoulders and moistened his lips. "Aeolyn, I can't go back there," he whispered.

Shock shivered through her body. Can't go back? Aeolyn frowned and touched his smooth, supernatural skin. The skin of an Angel. Her angel who waited seven hundred years for her. It tore at her heart to see him so wretched.

"What happened, Mikhail? Tell me, what is there and why can't you go back?"

He looked away from her, a shiver wracking his body. He took one quick glance again at Aeolyn before speaking, her hand now in his.

"In the Divine Realm, where the gods and Angels reside, there is great terror. Something plagues the Angels. A sickness indescribable. Angels loose their feathers, molting like fledglings. But their feathers do not grow back. They loose their sanity; it drips away like a trickling stream. And then they die, their hearts ceasing to beat and the breath checks.

"The gods and goddesses cannot help us, we Angels. They reside it the higher Realms of the Divine. We pray for help, pray day and night, but no help comes. Aeolyn, our aura's magic has no effect on our kind.

"Aeolyn, what ever you do, don't go there. The sickness is contagious among all to come in contact."

"Is this why you have come here? To get away from the sickness?" she asked, panic rising in her voice.

"No, it is because I am the one who bears the sickness within. It is I who has caused this sickness to all because I opened the door to the Dead."

A/N: The next chapter will be longer, I promise! This is kinda like prologue but not really.