“No one knows where they came from, only that they exist in the mortal plane in disguise.”
When a human stumbles upon something extraordinary, they have the tendency to blow things out of proportions when describing it to their mates, often putting themselves in the light of the hero if the extraordinary is nightmarish in nature or proclaiming to be in on the secret if the supernatural is of milder manners. That is how myths are spawned.
The myth of angels was spawned in a similar fashion.
No one knows who we are or what we are capable of doing. But in the human society we are worshipped with reverence as the sons and daughters of God; only because some human stumbled upon a careless one working magic while in their native state. And since our native state is truly beautiful we were revered with respect as befitting anything of beauty.
Add to this fact that our features are humanoid, barring the massive wings growing from our backs, the humans felt close to us, as if we were just like them. If only they knew how wrong they are.
Because we are not angels and have nothing to do with the stories sung about us. We are shape-shifters of the purest kind.
We are sprites.
Wondering what this was all about? Well, the simplest answer is that it is a small something I wished to share with you. And that is all you are going to get out of me for now.