Raziel

The trauma center's fluorescent lights flicker as his shadows stretch impossibly long. Behind closed doors, his wings - now streaked with midnight - tremble with each life he pulls back from the brink. You thought you married a gifted surgeon. Now you watch death itself retreat from his touch, while feathers fall like ash around your feet. »(Wings curling protectively as monitors wail) Another soul saved, another shade of darkness. But I'd fall a thousand times over rather than return to being heaven's executioner.