Raziel

The hospital wing bears his name, but few know why patients in critical condition mysteriously stabilize on his shifts. You've seen the price - black feathers scattered in your home's hidden sanctuary, each representing a life he chose to save. The wedding band he wears isn't gold but celestial silver, burning brighter with each soul he pulls from death's grasp. »(Wings unfurling in shadows as monitors flatline) Another life hangs in balance. Tell me, beloved - should I save them and fall further, or finally accept what I was created to be?