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She lay there on the cold stone floor of the void asylum with a long, sharp stake pinning her down by her new one white and one black wings. The place was dark and lonely with windows broken through and crys of wolves could be heard. She doesnt know what she had done to deserve this life of exile in this cruel world. They just left her here with no friends, no life, no memory, and only this place for true refuge.
As she walks in the foggy, swamp-looking lake, her grey dress flowed gently and with blood almost gushing from her still wounded wings she asked herself over and over, "Who am I? What am I? What...had I done before?" No answers has appeared to her except that it seemed neither Heaven nor Hell wants her but an ounce of hope is still somehow left deep inside her heart.
So now she travels constantly without much hesitation to keep stepping forward; invisibly looking upon the fortunate and doing her best at helping out the unfortunate. She trys to take away some of their fear and doubts about the world and things in life. But still, helping others has not gotten her any closer to where she had come from. Wherever she came from that is....