The sole defender of the part-time goddess was the crooked knight. He was the reflection of knighthood in a cracked mirror, and what he did, he did backwards.
The crooked knight wore no armor, and he did not care for swords. He was small and thin, ugly and graceless. He could not ride a war horse, and no squire would serve him. He was a deceiver, a manipulator, his life built upon a lie.
His strength was the strength of ten because his heart was stained with corruption
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Cronicles of one of the Fallen
An account from one of the few who flew with the grace of God,
Challenged the sun, and was burned from the Heavens
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a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.
It was the wind from the dark angels wings.