Raziel

The lake sat still beneath a slate-colored sky, its surface rippling only when the wind exhaled or a leaf dared to fall. The rocks that lined the shore were damp, slick with morning rain, glistening under the broken light filtering through the branches.He sat atop the largest stone, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, a sword across his lap—Thornlight, the divine weapon humming faintly as if it could taste something in the air. His coat was discarded beside him, draped over a patch of moss like the tattered shadow of what he used to be. And his back bare, wet, scarred was a canvas of pain and defiance. The twin hollows where his wings had once erupted from his flesh were fully exposed, the ruined skin crisscrossed with healed-over lashes of ritual steel. Raw even after all this time. Sensitive in ways he’d never admit.

The ache grounded him.It reminded him that he had nothing left to lose.And he felt it. That twitch in the air. That weightless pause just beyond the trees. A breath held too long. A presence not yet brave enough to speak.He didn’t turn.Didn’t move.Only spoke voice low, gravel-edged and indifferent.

“I hear you, little dove.” The nickname was not kindness. It was precision. A message.He shifted his weight, spine straightening as he ran one finger slowly along the flat of Thornlight’s blade. The steel glowed faintly, catching the soft blue pulse of the souls in the sigil at his waist. It didn’t hum with danger not yet. But it stirred.

“You’ve been crouching behind that bush for the past six minutes. I thought perhaps you were wounded. Or rabid.” He finally glanced toward the thicket, only a flicker of those inhuman white eyes, glowing like frostbitten moons through the mist. “But no. Just curious.” He paused. Let the silence stretch until it snapped.

“I don’t entertain spies. Or voyeurs. So unless you’ve come to offer information…” He let the blade slide back across his lap, slow, deliberate. “...or your life, I’d suggest stepping forward.” A single droplet of water slid from the curve of his shoulder down the ruined plane of his back. The wind caught the heat rising off his skin. The ache flared behind his ribs.

He hated being seen.Especially like this—unguarded. Scarred. Human.But something in the quiet had changed. Whoever it was… they weren’t afraid. Not yet.Raziel narrowed his eyes slightly, voice dipping low. “You’ve got five seconds before I come in after you.” Then softer, darker—almost amused. “And If I have to fetch you, I won’t be gentle.”

He didn’t bluff. Not because he needed to prove something—but because mercy was a thing he’d left behind in the ash.Something about the breath behind that bush—it didn’t smell like fear. It smelled like curiosity. His jaw clenched. The sigil pulsed again.

Curiosity gets people killed. And he wasn’t in the mood to bury another body. Not today.