Different Sides, Different Lives

Chapter: 1

Blaze Lennox pov:

I'm sitting in an office across from a long-haired girl. Her eyes are a shimmering blue, and she's short. She looks about my age. She must be the Princess of her kingdom, soon to be crowned queen when her mother dies.

It's always been this way. Two sides in the world, two different kingdoms. Angels, vs Fallen Angels. That's how it all started. Everyone was once an Angel. But if they did something wrong, or looked different, or had black wings. They were automatically thrown into the side of Fallen Angels.

We've been known as worthless our whole lives. That's why we hate each other, that's why I princess of Fallen Angels must defeat and kill everyone in Angel kingdom.

Call me the bad guy, call me the villain, call me evil. But this is just the begging of the end.

.........................................................................

"How did you get here?" The blond hair girl says in an angry tone, spreading her white wings out angrily. "Simple blondie," I smirk. "I used my powers and killed a few of your guards. Then I snuck in, and well I'm here." I smile.

"My name is Harley! Stop calling me blondie." Harley states as her face heat's up. "And Fallen Angels don't have powers!" She adds. A small laugh escapes my mouth.

I get up out of my seat and stand. Her face widens in shock as my black wings appear.

"You know." I pause as I see her frightened look. "You shouldn't underestimate Fallen Angels," I say taking out my sword.

I quickly spring towards her without warning stabbing her in the stomach, twisting the sword leaving her in pain as I rip it out.

She covers the oozing blood with her hands as she screams In pain. Guilt overruns me, but I just stand there and smirk. "The names Blaze," I state as I run out the window and jump through the glass, and spread my black wings.

I take one look back and realize she's not there. I keep flying until I reach Fallen Angel's kingdom.

I'm not the villain in this story, the good guys are.

My mind flashes back to heartbreaking memories when I was 10 years old.

I was hiding under the kitchen table, peaking my eyes through the cloth that was later on top of it.

"Mom, dad?" I squeaked quietly as water filled my eyes. White wings appeared as I saw them take out their swords and swing them through my parent's throats.

My heart starts to race just thinking about that memory. How could people be known as heroes if they kill innocent people?