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Gods were those who were almighty, holding power incomparable to none. Everyone knew that. They were unreachable, untouchable. One doesn't simply get to encounter a god whenever they so wished, only those hand-picked selected few were allowed the grace of witnessing one before their undeserving eyes.
A god didn't necessarily require offerings nor sacrifices— no, none of that. What they needed, most importantly, was devotion.
On this very stage we call our cathedral, our followers shall pray.
Yet again, they've come. Filling up the pews one by one, they patiently wait for Him to make his entrance.
When he does, the church falls silent. Only the words from God echoed throughout the hall as he sang the gospel.
He retreated as quickly as he had arrived. He was not one to fool around and offer any form of gratuitous exchange with his followers.
They remain unfazed, however. Instead, they promise. Promise to devote themselves even more, promise to never stray from the light.
A sign of their worship.
–
Angels were meant to serve their god. They would serve as their messengers— Gods had no reason to bestow their mighty presence in front of humans, after all.
This god was meticulous. He chose to create his angels himself, offering the breathe of life into every single one of them.
Though, he had favoured one particular angel of his. With looks resembling a deity along with a voice akin to a choir of a thousand saints, it's a mystery he wasn't some form of supreme being himself.
My dearest, let us grace the masses with our art, our essence of life.
–
There was once a demon—a human, truthfully,—but with its slovenly appearance and maliciously cursed eyes, one could hardly tell the difference.
Wilfully crawling up to the heavens from the ground, it grovelled at the god's feet, pleading to be accepted into the holy land it trespassed on.
The boy was a fool, the god would never spare as much as a glance at anyone, let alone a nobody such as it. It was merely wasting its breathe. Yet...
Speak, boy. What is your name?
He was shown a glimpse of kindness. He'd been bestowed a pair of wings along with a chance at living amongst the divine. The young one couldn't be more grateful, vowing to repay with his very life when the time came.
But one's true roots will always show, no matter their façade.
Feathers stained as dark as night itself, it remained as a sign of his humanity, his imperfection. No matter how the god may have tried to refine him, his efforts were in vain.
He was an angel with pitch-black wings. He was a defective angel.
–
Conflict between gods weren't uncommon. Certain foolish beings would be overtaken with greed, they wouldn't be sated until their desire for greater power has been fulfilled.
Once war has been waged, the end of one would surely befall.
Those self-proclaimed gods, wretched devils in disguise... You were the cause of this!
His people lost their faith in him.
"If He can't even protect himself, how are we able to believe in Him to protect us?"
Within the walls of a fallen church, the once-revered god, nay, for he was now exiled of his status, sat weeping.
His beloved angel had chosen to desert him. Heartlessly ripping off his wings and halo, he willingly stepped down to become one with the rest of the ordinary humans.
The god had been ruined. His follower's trust in him had been damaged, and those who once stood alongside him cast him aside. Left all alone in his demise, no one had remained.
No one, except the angel with dark wings.
Waiting patiently by his side, he stood by his oath. Only he believed that someday the god's rightful glory would return to him.
And so he prayed, night and day, both for the revival of his god and for the downfall of those who once wronged him.
Indeed... The god had forgotten. This was all that was needed for one's legacy to live on.
As long as he had his angel with him, his flame burning deep within will never be extinguished.