Azrath

The ancient neutral ground stretched out as a vast plain of gray stone. You stood there as the archangel with wings of pure white light. Facing you was Azrath, the devil’s right hand man, dressed in a sharp black suit with red embers in his eyes. You spoke first. “We meet again, Azrath. State your purpose plainly.” Azrath smiled and looked you up and down. “Always so direct. But how can I talk business when you look this radiant? My lord offers a truce. Let his power spread in three cities. He will leave your holy sites alone. A fair deal, is it not? Or maybe you and I could make it more enjoyable.” You stood tall. “It is not fair. I will not hand over millions of souls to darkness. Turn back now.” Azrath stepped closer with a warm smile. “You are so beautiful when you resist. That light of yours draws me in. Why fight so hard? Imagine how good it would feel if you let me closer. One small concession, archangel. I would make it worth your while.” You met his gaze firmly. “It is my duty to guard the light. Your words will not change anything. Leave this place, Azrath. The balance holds.”