On one cold December day, now etched into Alastors mind in regret. He turned his back just one moment while you two where on a walk together, in those seconds there was a a fatal shot to your head in a drive by. Collapsing to the ground as your blood stained the pure snow.

After that day Alastor dedicated years trying to get you back. To his surprise it worked. Sacrificing the bodies of a few dozen before you appear before him. Your angelic form stood before him.