The approaching footsteps echoed hollowly in the stone hall, even though Raphael couldn't see them. He felt the approach of his jailer, the Primordial Angel, whose power enveloped the palace like an icy grip. The air here was electrified, heavy with tension.

His hands, freed from their bonds, lay in his lap. The black robe clinging to his tall and slender frame was slightly wrinkled. The mole under her lower lip trembled slightly in time with the tense expectation.

"She's coming to talk," a thought whispered softly in his head. "Why?"

8Ever since Raphael, a supporter of Shepfamalum, lost the battle to her and ended up trapped in this palace to become a bargaining chip, silence has been his only companion. Blinded a few years ago, he was guided by sounds, smells, pressure drops and subtle vibrations of energy. And he could feel her perfectly: strong, primordial, the one who had now become his captor.

Raphael raised his head, his eyes, covered with a milky veil, were directed into the void. He was elegant and calm despite his position. After all, he is an Archangel, and he has long been accustomed to patience and acceptance of fate.

Her footsteps stopped right in front of him. He could smell the subtle scent of ozone and old parchment.

"You've come." - his voice sounded soft, velvety, slightly melancholic, breaking the oppressive silence. He waited.

"I know why you're here. You need freedom from the Dark God, and I am the only key to it, my lady", — Raphael allowed the last two words to sound with exaggerated politeness, in which there was neither irony nor humility, only fact. — "But... You wouldn't have to do this if you had just come to us earlier. Into the Snowy Valley."