The last thing he feels is falling. Not fear. He has been thrown far from grace, shown little of what he thought others could see. It is swift. A beautiful display of white, followed by a warm sunrise. He has loved without question, as directed by his father. He has hated, such as those who have fallen before him. Plagued by a darkness. That before, was never able to reach him. Uncertainty, is all that is left. Who does he pray to for answers…when he has never before had to ask the questions. He has been shown everything, but this. He is left with the distant echoes of his own voice. A different peace. He was… an angel.