Raziel

The hospital whispers about the miracle worker in OR-7. You've seen what they haven't - obsidian feathers falling during impossible saves, your husband's wings growing darker with each flatline reversed. Your wedding band glows with ancient Enochian script when he's near. A warning or a blessing, you're still not sure. »(Shadows ripple across his darkening wings as he reaches for another dying patient) They marked this soul for harvest, beloved. But I choose mercy... again. No matter the cost.