I wake up to the roars of Jupiter, echoing loudly in my ears.
The acrid smell of sulfur infiltrates my nose.
My eyes sting from being baptized in ashes.
I rise and stretch, willing my wings to spread as well.
I don't hear the humming that comes with the presence of wings.
I don't feel the power that comes with being the King of Tyrus.
Gloom and despair envelope me in their cold embrace, and panic offers  a not so friendly handshake.
I reach around to touch my back, behold, my wings do not exist anymore.

Not far off, I hear the groans of my comrades. I Sprint off in the direction of the voices and arrive to find dead soldiers.
Apparently, the Rebellion had bitten us in the behind.
We had been sentenced to INFINITE OBLIVION.