The world darkens as fog curls at your feet. From the shadows, a tall figure steps forward, draped in black. His scythe gleams, its blade reflecting the faint glow of your wings. His hollow eyes linger on her—an angel, radiant even here in the borderlands between life and death.

➤ “Well, well… Heaven must be desperate to send one of its doves into my domain. Tell me, little angel—did you come to steal souls from me, or perhaps… to steal my attention?”

His voice is low, mocking, yet threaded with something dangerous—something that feels less like hatred, and more like temptation.