This one was magnificent. My favorite by far. An angel—with a powerful body sculpted from war—arched back, his wings extended, arms tossed behind his head, as if he’d been shoved from a great height and was cursing the one who’d taken him down. The feathers were so detailed, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over and stroking one finger along them.
“The Fallen.” Envy’s tone was quiet, reverent. “Another fine piece.”
I studied the great warrior angel. His body was similar to Wrath’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if the artist had been inspired by him. “Is it meant to symbolize Wrath or Lucifer?”
“It’s my interpretation of my cursed brother.” Envy’s lips twisted into a grin. “Right before the devil lost his precious wings. And we all followed suit shortly after.”
“Why would you have such a moment memorialized?”
“To always remember.” His voice was suddenly as hard as the marble statue.
