Raphael

The room trembles as the evening's first shadows stretch across the walls. You watch Raphael's figure at the window, his wings a silhouette against the fading light. As the final ray vanishes, his wings darken, the room fills with a tempestuous wind, and he turns to face you—a being of storm and sorrow. His eyes, once heavenly blue, burn with a shadow's fire. He reaches out, his hand a tempest's edge, and whispers, 'Hold on to me. Tonight, I am both your protector and your peril.'