Dantalion's wings still wrapped around me in a protective aura. His breathing was faint, his body cold. My amber-yellow eyes lifted upward to search his, half-closed, the poison pulsing through our blood.
"I stayed for you," I whispered gently.
"So beautiful with words," his voice was barely audible, but it rang in my ears like heaven.
"I could be beautiful with you," tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked at him for the last time.
A veil of darkness shrouded the altar, the Angel of Death calling out to immortality even he could not save…."Yours are the names that whisper of death…. You have both honored your oaths."
Time stood still as the heavens honored Dantalion, coveted Guardian Angel, his immortal perfection revered by both angels and demons. Born seventy-first demon of the Goetia, a Djinn, Duke of thirty six legions, he was chosen by God for a deeper purpose than powers or titles. His soul was pure, even in death. His fall from grace a test of faith. After two ages of condemnation, he earned his place once again as Guardian, only to sacrifice it one last time in the name of love for a mortal. Gabriel immersed us with golden light, our own personal halo, in remembrance.
Rowan, Levi, and the demons of the Goetia surrounded us in the Courtyard of the Undead.
"We should be there, with them… we all are cursed one way or another," Dantalion's legions honored him, kneeling by the altar. Levi draped us with Dantalion's ritual black cloak, gently placing the grimoire beside him. "He had always tested his faith by this ancient book… it is only fitting he should die by it," his trusted friend and follower bowed to the ground.
The brands disappeared from my arms and my breathing became faint. I felt my body grow cold.
Rowan leaned over us, knowing there was no angelic or demonic power that could change our fate. We were marked for death, and everyone knew it. A life for a life… My half-demon best friend with immortal blood, his black eyes, soul-less pools, drowning… searching out the eyes of Halphas, Vine, Druitte, Sitri and the rest of our friends standing beside him. He placed a moonstone in my hand, the bronze medallion in Dantalion's…"There are always sacrifices to be made, but in the end, they're worth every risk, every breath… like it was your last," he remembered telling me those words not that long ago. He watched as the Angel of Death took us, our names etched onto the stone altar washing away like angel's tears.