The Fallen Ones

The Death of a Rose

[AN]

This should remind you in some ways of a certain music video

;)

~・✧・~

[December 13, 2020. Present day. The Beginning of the Fall.]

The glittering city of Miroh basked in the midmorning sun, her skyscrapers attempting to touch the clouds as they towered over the streets in an almost daunting manner.

Below the rushing waters of the Achelous River flowed agitatedly, as if sensing the strange current in the air. Small waves with white-capped peaks broke against the banks, dousing flowers in an icy bath.

The streets bustled with activity; vendors advertised mounds of glittering jewels and baked goods; businessmen in their tight tweed suits bustled about with identical briefcases and expressions of dread; and children, young enough to be bare of any identifying gold marks, played chase.

Jisung stared down at his city from the top of the tallest building, equal parts in awe as he was disgusted.

Without question, Miroh was beautiful.

Skyscrapers of varying metallic shades rose and fell, shaped to perfection and preening. Cherry Blossom trees lined the cobblestone pathways where they bloomed each season, decorating the streets with light pink petals of hope.

Farther into the city, on the top of the only mountain ridge, sat a grand mansion made purely of solid gold. It hovered above the city, watchful as it was daunting. Jisung could almost feel its disapproval as it pulsed in a golden hue, steam curling off the roof as the sun heated the tiling.

In the front lawn, not a blade of grass was out of place, the flowers that lined the grand staircase were prim and stood proudly on their stalks, and in the middle, sat a grand fountain, spewing golden liquid from the hands of their beloved ancient mother, Theia.

Jisung, like most citizens, had never set foot in the council's palace. His brother, Felix, had been only once.

He'd had nothing more to say of his time there than,

"The council is like a thin blade. Calculating and menacing. One that pierces your skin slowly, coldly, patiently. One misstep and they would have ensured I felt every ounce of pain as they slowly drained the life from my body."

And Miroh, like those that governed it, was nothing more than a gilded cage, hiding behind the facade of perfection.

As beautiful as it was deadly.

Jisung hated it.

In the distance, a clock tower chimed the top of the hour, drawing Jisung's attention. He curled his wings in tighter to his back, knowing he was quickly running out of time.

There was no concealing his presence, much as he tried.

Though Jisung's wings were folded neatly against his back, they shimmered like a beacon in the harsh sunlight, blindingly so.

It would not take long before the Stratos would descend upon him, like hordes of bloody wolves, primed for the kill.

The Stratos made up the government's army. A special breed of Avium who's genes were mutated to have wickedly sharp spikes protruding from their primary feathers.

However, the gaudy red of their uniforms and the plating on their armor, which was arranged in descending, overlapping pieces down to their knees gave the impression of giant overgrown roses. Right down to the thorn-like quality of their spikes.