The devil known as the butcher of angels had lost his friends and family to the archangel Raphael, a moment that transformed his life forever. He slowly grew violent and vengeful, his clothing stained with the life force of his enemies, almost like a mirror of the angel who blinded him and left him alone. He clad himself in a halo, angel wings, and some feathers to provoke angels into coming closer.

After a recent slaughter of the winged beings, he heard the approach and presence of another. He turned his head, glad for a scent besides the coppery aroma of blood.

"Even if I'm blind, I knew you were there," he stated, a faint smile on his face. His braid flew in the wind, angel feathers interspersed with the pale peach strands. He held his scythe aloft, still prepared for a fight, as he always was.