There was a roar coming from hell, from the ground below.
It shattered the halls of glass and the pillars of light that
held up the great havens in the sky. In these havens lived the
angels, and they caught fire and plummeted towards the earth.
And as the angels fell from their flaming sky, they ripped
holes through the heavens. Their wings, like shredded paper, makes
the sound of broken dreams, soaring towards the hard, cold
earth so far below. Their numbers increase as their heavens blew
up in spheres of fire, blew into flames of the purgatorium far
below. And as the angels fell, our hands stretched out to
catch them, but they fell right through our waiting grip.
As they always do...
