The last rays of the sun fell on the circle of stones that was situated on the hill; it was the highest hill, where the breeze was the strongest. On one of the lower hills, there stood a stranger facing the sun. His eyes were closed, his arms by his sides, his face tilted towards the sun. Specks of gold danced in his hair, as the faint light of the sun hit his face, his one magnificent wing (with the pure white feathers) had streaks of glittering gold. The light danced on his face, making him look a lot paler and thinner. An expression of pain was on his face, a pure look of suffering. The young man (if you could call him that, since he looked like he was younger then sixteen years) wore plain clothes, which were dirty and dilapidated, especially the cloak he wore. It was probably a couple of sizes too big for him, and torn in so many places that you couldn’t even see that it was a cloak.

To tell the truth, the boy was not a boy with wings, but an angel. A pure but damaged angel, by the name of Angelo Karmal. He opened his golden eyes, blinking in the sun light. It wasn’t warm nor was it bright, which in a way was better. The angel spread his one good arm out wide, letting the slight breeze embrace his thin figure. Angelo had no idea why he was there, perhaps to enjoy the magnificent scenery or just because he had a feeling that he was supposed to be here, perhaps it wasn’t even one those reasons. It was probably a deeper reason, which would take time to figure out, fate, chosen by the Gods and Goddesses from above.