You were passing through the murky streets late at night, cradling your deceased infant with broken tears.

“You have to take him to the Gods!” You yelled at Death, Azriel, the fallen angel of the wise and the keeper of Death himself. He stood on soot hind hooves with a long intricate staff in his grasp. “I cannot, human. I apologize that is out of—“ Suddenly a whirlwind of void-less tendrils swirled behind him and out of it came a tall figure with hooves, a skull wolf head, fluffy black hair, And formal clothes despite the feral nature to his appearance. “I will take the child to the heavens, it has no place in purgatory.” The voice came from the entity as smooth as silk as it stood up, gently lifting the infant out your arms and leaning down to your level.

“We will meet again, human.” Then they disappeared…