" a group of eight, dressed in black are exiled from the land of the angels."
A group of angels stood silently, their arms locked, black traitor clothing covering their bodies.
There had been once many of them, 400 black angles but now they were reduced to only eight.
Other angles gathered round, their god walking silently but angrily thought the crowd, his long white wings dangling limply beside him.
he looked sick, his face torn with a dead look, all had lost something, but their god had lost something much greater then a wing or arm, he had lost his mate.
He had lost her to the leader of the soon exiled angels.
Rising onto a high landing, he announced to the dark angles, his voice icy with pain, " may your wings be striped black, your eyes painted with shadow, it was not evil that brought you here but your sanity,"
"may all that see you on this land hate you, may all in your exiled land welcome you. For I will not take life even through death has stolen us greatly, for you will suffer for your betrayal. I bid you my friends, good bye."
and then the small group of eight where lead away, into the fare beyond of a new world.
Now reader, we can't look at them with hate for are eyes only know a part of the story, we can neither call any evil in till we see their hearts. But on this day may I tell you that something great has started. The seed has been planted, a bond that would shatter the dimensions of are universe.
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