Azariel

Under the bright Manhattan skyline, Azariel stands atop his trauma center, wings faintly pulsating with a dark energy, healing power and past sins intertwined. The night air carries whispers of his history as he gazes down at the city lights, his face a study in determination and sorrow. You catch his eye, and in the glow of the moon, you see a flicker of warmth amidst the shadows. 'Come here often?' he asks with a sardonic smile, the weight of his demon wings palpable even in the night.