I walked forward one step at a time. I could feel the ash under my feet, the burnt dust of my former home. A cold breeze blew past scattering embers to the wind. In a futile attempt to keep warm a wrap my wings around myself. But they’re so battered and broken that it’s too painful to keep them that way. I let them fall limp on my back knowing how terrible they must look. Missing feathers, bloody and bruised just like the rest of me. I was so broken and fragile back then, to this day id don't recall how I lasted so long.
I was only ten years old that day. The day I watched my home burn and my mother die as my sister held her fragile form begging her to live. I had nothing in the world but my name. Nico di Angelo. My name and my sister. The only other person like me in the world that I knew of at that time. An angel. Immortals doomed to watch our loved ones pass before our eyes as we live on for eternity. I just hadn’t expect this to become a curse so early in the long life I surely had ahead of me.
But no one wanted us to live. Not with world war two on the horizon, we could be used as a weapon. Legends of people like us had been told for centuries before the 1940's in Italy so many people in our village had feared what we truly were. So in an attempt to be rid, the secret organisation known as, The Olympians tried to have us killed. There we stood in the scattered remains of our home as proof that they failed. The blast couldn’t kill us but it killed our mortal mother.
I turn to my sister who had returned from sorting through the rubble, finding only her knitted green hat now scorched with burn marks and a burned, small, wooden figurine of our farther hades. She took my hand and we walked out the ash and away from our old life. I wasn’t sure where we would end up exactly but I could never have guessed it would be where I am now.
My mother was the mortal women Maria di Angelo, and my father was Hades lord of the dead. I am the child of life and death. I am an angel. I am Nico di Angelo.