She sunk the knife into my stomach.
Blood spilled, but not human blood. The liquid was shining, like liquid light.
Emilia back away, scared.
I gingerly took the knife out, passed a hand over it, and the wound was healed.
“Wh-what are you.” She breathed.
“I am an angel of death.” I said, stretching my wings.
“You came to kill me?”
“Quite frankly, my dear Emilia, I came to help you live a longer life.”
“What?”
“My name is Graden, son of Saint Michael.”
“I still don’t understand, why me?”
“You are a troubled young woman, single, and you are losing faith. I can fix that.”
“No way.”
“You do not believe me?” I said, walking towards her. “Then I’m sorry, Emilia.”
I smiled at her, and kissed her.
“You will have to believe.”