Azrael walked passed rows of tables lined with the recently deceased. The tips of his black feathered wings brushed against the peeling linoleum floor as he moved deeper into the morgue. In some ways, he liked this place. It was dark, silent, and peaceful. At the same time, it broke his heart to see the still, empty shells left behind. After all, he was the one who greeted the dead when they crossed over. He embraced them and comforted them as they mourned the life and the people they left behind. After seeing the strength of their spirits, it was strange to see them as silent, unmoving corpses.
He had only been there for a few minutes, but he was already growing weary of the heavy weight of the place where lives were forgotten. But he had come for a reason. He had come to fulfill a promise he made a millennium ago.
“I know you’re here,” he said, his voice calm despite a mounting impatience.
The air shifted. The demon bent reality itself as her form flickered i