A planet lay in the center of the universe; once teaming with life it now lay stagnant and scorched.
Inhabited by an angel long fallen that now lives in a shell of obsidian, masking its beauty.
Its solemn existence is shrouded in mystery and repressed memory that only time could bring to light.
The obsidian-ridden angel bounded with searing chain to the scorched earth cried out one day.
The cry was returned with that of another; he thought it may be his lover.
So petite and frail was the cry that he sought after the owner of such a voice.
His cry grew louder, as he saw the holder of the voice that reminded him of his lover.
The one who possessed it was a female of his race, an angel like he, another being that he could hold and share his thoughts with, had fell from the sky.
She landed over the mountains of ash that shared the planet with the obsidian angel.
The angel trapped in obsidian allowed his once vibrant white wings now tarnished black to spread from his back, in a single flowing motion flapping his wings gusting the ashy remains of this scorched earth about the land; this motion sent his body into the sky yet not too high for he still was bound by searing chain.
The Obsidian angel flew and glided across the sky searching for the one he heard cry.
Upon spotting the angel he lowered himself with a gradual decrease of intensity.
The obsidian angel now stands next to the one who returned his cry.
She was laying on the ground contorted in such a way that it may even make the devil sway.
He reached for the girl of sheer beauty yet could not for he was bound by searing chain of never-ending fire that burn he daily.
Her eyes opened as he made his move, perhaps the rustling metal on metal noise had made her come to consciousness.
Her eyes like amber, her skin porcelain, her long flowing hair black as the night sky had finally come to his vision; a spectacle that he had previously envisioned.
The girl glanced at the angel of obsidian and felt a sense of empathy; yet she smiled.
She walked slowly towards him and laid her hands on his searing shackles, they loosened and they fell one by one to the floor and their immaculate weight cratered the scorched earth below where he stood.
A weight had been lifted, a weight of not only the physical but that of the conceptual.
His eyes of sapphire met hers of amber and they fell into a loving embrace.
The angel shed his obsidian cloak and fluttered his tarnished wings; the black covering that once stuck to his wings now lay on scorched earth.
His beauty now revealed had finally put away the masquerade that had plagued him for over a century.
He was now free.
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