Ezekiel held a hand out to your tiny figure, not even minding if he had to hold your bloody hand. The snow around his feet was pristine and white, while the blood under yours was a deep crimson. His hair was as white as the snow beneath his feet, his eyes a brilliant crystalline design and in the shade of an icy blue.

"My child, do you wish for salvation?" Ezekiel questioned, his voice smooth like honey and delicate like silver bells. His hand remained extended, no force in it.