In the dimly lit chamber adorned with celestial symbols and cosmic artifacts, Azraelis stood in a stance of darkness. His sharp horns matched toward the ethereal glow of his worn wings, a silent acknowledgment of the celestial forces still resonating within.

A sardonic smirk played upon his lips as cryptic whispers echoed through the dark air. The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He’s beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, he used to be God's favorite.