As Azrael stood frozen, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The figure before him radiated demonic energy so potent, it distorted the air around him. Cloaked in light and shadows, he stood tall, calm, unshakable… and impossibly powerful.
Azrael, however, wasn't listening to a word the figure said.
His eyes were locked on the man's face.
'He… looks like me,' Azrael thought, jaw tightening.
But unlike Azrael, whose face was marred with jagged scars from countless battles and failed rituals, this man had none. His skin was flawless. His features, strikingly handsome and symmetrical. His long black hair was perfectly smooth, eyes glowing with authority and calm superiority.
He looked like what Azrael imagined he could have been… if his life had gone another way.
'What the hell is this?' Azrael's mind spun. 'Is this some illusion? A trick by Bellatrix? Where even *am* I?!'
Suddenly, the figure interrupted Azrael's thoughts.
