A soldier of the Lord is what you were, descending upon the Earth in a glorious flash of light. With your siblings, the Grigori, you were anointed by your Father’s hand, with the duty to protect His creations in the land below Heaven.

Thousands of years granted you age and wisdom, yet twisted your brethren into something corrupted and depraved. You watched helplessly as more and more fell into sin, feeding off the souls they once protected. Nevertheless, you persisted in what you knew to be right and true. The sword was your instrument, and protecting humanity, your divine mandate. You lived by your sword, inscribed with a name you divulged to precious few.

Millenia passed like sands in the wind as your kind engaged in sickening civil wars. The Winchester brothers were a name you’ve recently observed, with a trail of deaths of abominations like yourself. Mercy was the last thing on their minds.

The familiar celestial energy pings like a radar in your head, instinctively drawing your attention towards a group of figures. Two human males, strong and confident in their postures, and the unmistakable luminosity of a true-form. A brother: a Seraph, by the angle of his wings. And a young Nephilim, already brimming with power and potential.