There is a cycle of tales that begin long, long ago, when the human gods decreed that all their mortal children shall know sorrow, loss, and defeat in the course of the lives they were given. Lives of pure joy, of perfect sufficiency and constant victory, the gods reserved for themselves.
Now, it came to pass that one particular man had run nearly his entire alloted span, and he had never known defeat. Sorrows he had , losses he had taken, but reversals that other men would call defeats were to him no more than obstacles; even the worst of his routes was, to him, merely a strategic withdrawl.
He could be killed, but never conquered. For him, the only defeat was surrender; and he would never surrender.
And so it soon followed that the king of the human gods undertook to teach this particular man the meaning of defeat.
The king of the gods took away this man's possesions--took away his wealth, and the respect of his people--and still this particular man did not surrender.
The king of the gods took away this man's family, every one that he loved--and still this particular man did not surrender.
In the final story of this cycle, the king of the gods takes away this man's self respect, to teach him the meaning of the helplessness that goes with defeat.
And in the end-- the common end,for all who contend with the gods-- this particular man surrenders, and dies.
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Cronicles of one of the Fallen
An account from one of the few who flew with the grace of God,
Challenged the sun, and was burned from the Heavens
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a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.
It was the wind from the dark angels wings.