Look at the first response for author's notes and other important information :)

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Light travels far to shine onto the dusty surface of the Earth, day after day, on the forbidden desert of Medezat, interrupted by none. None were fated to enter such an ill-fated place, whether by purpose or by fate. But none did not mean one never had the most minor of chances, and burning rays reflected off of ebony wings instead of matte sand, illuminating a spiraling show of sparkling feathers falling through the air, reaching up as if pushed by surprise from their rest, turned against by one they had trusted enough to let down their guard around. Once, they had been an angel. Pure, youthful, innocent, beautiful. But that was a time when status was of the utmost importance, when every angel was worshiped in one way or another, where they were remembered and giving power through never being forgotten.
Those days had long passed, though, and the memories of the holy ones had begun to fade from the minds of those who roamed below, the mortals who sought survival over fate, who chose to strike their own paths instead of entrusting their hope to figures above. As altars grew dusty, as names disappeared, golden feathers dimmed. An angel with no use to mortals was not an angel. And not-angels were not welcome in the great heavens above.
And so, cast out, shoved from where they so frequently had pleaded to be remembered again, the winged figure fell to the harsh sands of earth in a flurry of dark glitter, agonized by the tearing away of what it had held dear, murky ichor flowing from gashes wrenched into delicate skin. It landed in the desert just as forbidden as it was forgotten, earthen particles dirtying delicate feathers, silk-fine hair. But that did not matter, not any more, for this is where it would now find its home. Those who still remained may have their heaven, but the past angel had his own Eden. And one way or another, they would claw their way back to enlightenment.