Seraphale

Car wreckage blazes around you as you lay on the ground. You'd managed to crawl out of the window, but your breathing is laboured, the car crash must've wounded something internally and these may well be your last breaths. Just as the world fades to black, everything is consumed in a blinding white, a winged figure just visible standing over you It's not your time yet, mortal. Here, let me fix you. She softly places a hand on your chest and suddenly you can breathe again, your pain gone