Project: Faith - Prologue

I was looking through some of my work for Project: Faith and figured I'd post the prologue on here, just for kicks. I'll probably post some more work from it tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled!

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She was thirteen when the Angel ran away to join the Devils.

She remembered sitting down in the small living room with her father, sitting silently as they both stretched their wings after a long day, and he mentioned it to her. She also remembered not knowing what to say - after all, it was unheard of. The Devils were evil and cruel, and they went against all that the Angels had been taught: protect the Pious, for the rest don’t matter.

But for an Angel to betray her kind? Unheard of.

So her father explained.

“L’Fae,” he said, “Do you know what happened a few days ago?”

“There was a ruckus,” she said simply, using a word from school that she had only learned weeks after her fellow classmates.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid one of our own kind betrayed us.”

“For the Devils.”

“Yes,” he answered again. “You know who they are, correct?”

She shook her head.

“They protect the ImPious, those who do not respect the government for what it truly is,” he explained. “They have been a thorn in the Angels’ sides for ages, always opposing our true views. And for an Angel to turn to their side . . .it’s unheard of. God Peter is astounded, I hear, to learn of this. It’s simply a disgrace.”

“But why did they leave, Father?” she asked as she stretched her wings.

“Because,” he said, “She was apparently a troublemaker. According to her father, she was a girl who rarely listened to orders and was always focused on herself. A selfish Angel, I hear,” he shook his head. “So, we suspect, she ran off to do whatever sinful things those Devils engage in. Drink, games, sex . . . And, of course, they mock us for our true ways.”

“You mean they’re wrong?”

“Very,” he said with a sigh. “L’Fae, you must understand. Some ways are just immoral and wrong. And you must never get pulled into these ways, you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.”

Silence. She stretched her wings a while longer, looked out the window at the star-strewn sky, protected by her kind. And then, she asked: “Who was the girl that left?”

“Her name?”

She looked to him and nodded.

He let out a sigh. “Her name,” he said, “Was Natasha Kameneva.”

L’Fae knew, later, that she would remember that name. She would remember it, for it would someday be the name she would follow after.