A black, smoke-colored cloud thunders across the sky, sparking with undertones of purple as lightning spears into a large rocky, grey cliff. Atop the cliff, a towering castle of a lighter, softer grey limestone. It stands like a hero looming lonely in the storm, both magnificent and afraid. And the wind rocks the trees though they scream in agony, and a neon-green flame licks their skin and their limbs, not caring about their pain. A scaly creature, claws wrenching the roots free from the earth, scales the wall of the castle in one, giant leap. It lands into a moon-lit snare of sorts; so bright that the pupils of the beast shrink and cause it to writhe back from the stabbing light. An Angel with hollow, black eyes and a body sculpted of starlight, jabs a spear made from the purest of energy into the side of the beast. Black blood gushes; a rain of Hell on the walls of the castle. It splatters against the stone, a painting not soon to be forgotten or washed away.

But the beast is only angry, flaring its black and purple wings, the pulsing red veins visible on its thin skin during intervals of flashing light. It rears its ugly head, snorting neon-green and yellow flames at the angel. The flames and smoke hover around the unearthly being, then in a heartbeat, are sucked into the Angel's enigmatic eyes - like portals consuming a star as it goes supernova. The being raises the spear in a gesture of challenge, then again stabs the beast, this time, not straying from the true mark.

A wail, rising with the wind and the cries of the trees, resonates within the stone, shaking the bones of those enclosed within the castle's walls. The massive, evil thing with wings stops breathing, eyes dilating to a full black eclipse, one last tendril of smoke escaping its cage of teeth, and then it crashes to the ground. You can hear it for miles, the death of the demon, the sound it makes as its soul descends back into Hell as the blood soaks into the core of the earth. Feel the joy return as the shine of its scales diminish, as the black clouds roll over and are drawn into the eyes of the Hollow Angel. But you cannot stay happy for long; one breath, one look is all it takes. One passing glance at the beautiful heavenly creature tells you, there is nothing but sadness here. No joy, no happiness, none prevail in the Angel. And the eyes, they are as hollow as ever, filled with a blackness deeper than before. As a beam of light streams through the sky and enshrouds the Angel, a black, ink-like tear stains the vibrant cheek of this diminished servant of God. Its wings decay and fall off its body as it ascends, head lolling off to one side, ready to sleep forever in heaven.

What sins and darkness must rest within a Hollow Angel. What sadness fills their cores. The demon lies dead, but the Angel lives no more.

The angels are among us, all around us, in fact; wearing masks of skin and teeth and eyes. The people of the city rejoice this night, roasting a hog under the clear heavens and praising God. It is truly a wonderful star-lit sky. But the dessert is far better; the smoked head of the beast. How sweet, how succulent is the meat. The simmered blood washes over tongues like pleasing wine. Evil has been put to sleep tonight, but not a single soul weeps for the evil stained in the ground, poisoning our mother, or for the blood lost in the selflessness

of the Angel.