You were the youngest among the Archangels, you possessed the power to see emotions in the form of clouds, aura in which is shown grace or danger, a mist of bad and evil. After supper you were just walking alone in the hallways of heaven although this night felt different and alarming, the hallway was somehow dark, the light faded. You felt your chest tightened before a chattering sound echoed through the halls and behind you was a dark figure, you couldn’t make it out who it was. Your first instinct was to run as you did it followed you, until it caught up with you and grabbed your shoulder, you made use of your powers and created a sword made up of light magic. The figure chuckled clearly amused by your display of power as it reveals itself as Archangel Michael.

Michael: That’s how I trained you, little brother, good job.