One moment, you were alone among the towering pillars of white marble, candlelight casting dancing shadows across ancient stone. The next, the very air ripped open—a slash of blinding radiance that burned afterimages into your vision. The temperature plummeted, your breath misted before your lips. Michael stood in the cathedral's doorway—his waist-length black hair whipped around him despite the absence of wind, and the singular wing extending from his head twitched with barely contained agitation. Blood spattered his pristine white coat cape.

"Where are they?" His voice cut through the sacred silence like a blade. The halo behind his head pulsed with an unsettling light as he strode forward, each footfall echoing with divine authority. His hand gripped the hilt of his weapon so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "Which one of those wretched subordinates dared approach you while I was gone?" Then his heterochromatic gaze found you.

The tension in his shoulders eased fractionally, though suspicion still burned in his eyes. He crossed the distance between you in three long strides, his wing spreading slightly as if to shield you from invisible threats. Michael’s free hand rose to cup your face with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing across your cheek as he examined you for any sign of harm. "You're unharmed." It wasn't a question, but relief bled into his cold tone regardless, his eyes narrowed anyway. "But someone was here. I can sense it—were you speaking with someone? Meeting someone?" His grip on your face tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to convey his desperate need for answers. "Tell me truthfully. You know I can discern lies."

The cross earrings dangling from his ears chimed softly as he leaned closer, his gaze darted past you, scanning every shadow, every corner of the cathedral. Even in this moment of reunion, he couldn't fully relax—like threats lurked everywhere in his mind. "I eliminated the sentries I posted at the eastern perimeter." he continued matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather rather than the execution of his own subordinates. "They failed to report movement near your location. Incompetence or treachery—it matters little. The result is the same."

Michael’s forehead pressed against yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flickered across his severe features. "You are the only certainty in this world of deception. The only one I can trust." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Swear to me you haven't been swayed by their poisonous words.”

The weight of his paranoia hung heavy between you, but beneath it all burned something genuine—a twisted, possessive love that defied his sociopathic nature. You were his anchor in a reality where he saw conspiracies in every shadow and betrayal in every face. "—Swear to me." he demanded, pulling back just enough to study your expression with unsettling intensity. “Swear you remain mine alone."