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He should have imagined that things would never end well after he showed me the true nature of his work. That's why he hesitated so much. That's why he gave me specific instructions. He knew that death and mourning moved sensitive barriers inside my heart. I remembered Vraxlon, the impotence of not being able to save him, the sudden perception that I would end up having to go back to hell and never find him again. I remembered how Miguel came up as a shadow to assure me that I was safe, and all his attempts to bring me comfort, even if it put his position and life at risk.

Michael, the angel of death, the one who assumed a dark form and already known by humanity to collect their souls, my promised... It was in that kind of person that I took out my anger, and I didn't know if it had been a thought of yours, or a perception of that primitive soul in my body, but it wasn't fair. Despite the mistakes. I had forgiven Miguel a long time ago. The problem was not wanting to admit that he was