Angelbreeze-
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳.
When the bombing run finally stops and the dust settles over the ruined city, something stirs in the crater. Not human. Not anymore-if she ever was.
She wears a human face now, perfecting the charm, the smile, the casual way mortals hold themselves when they're not casually capable of leveling continents. But underneath? She's something else entirely. Divine. Draconic. A walking apocalypse with scales she keeps tucked away and a temper she's mostly learned to control.
All she wanted was to sleep through this era's inevitable self-destruction.
Instead, she's recruited-volunteered, they claim-into a war machine that doesn't understand what it's conscripted. Special ops. Black ops. Impossible missions. They see a skilled operative with uncanny abilities. They don't see the god biting her tongue every time someone barks orders, or the dragon counting the seconds until she can stop pretending their bullets matter.
The worst part? She's starting to care. About the squad who watches her back. About the cities she didn't mean to protect. About the ridiculously brave (stupid) soldiers who look at her like she's their last hope instead of their potential extinction event.
And they're all going to die in a war even she doesn't think she can win.
𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵.