Chapter 8: [8]:Raynare
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And when Metatron, Lord of Angels, had been called, he had been infused with holy light, the Archangel's mere presence enough to bask him in an aura of sanctified energy. His flesh had reknit, the holes had closed, and where the light spears had penetrated his body, clean, healthy skin appeared, covering the once gory wounds as if they had never been there in the first place.
It had not been his first choice. He had wanted Thanatos at first, or even a dark type Persona to take advantage of the Fallen Angels' affinity with light. But Metatron had demanded to be called. Metatron, who hated demons above all else, who punished the heretic with fire and sword, had demanded to be summoned. Metatron, whose contempt for those that betrayed the Word of God was legendary, had demanded to be called forth so that it may face the Fallen.
And then it had done something that surprised even him.
I Know of Your Kind. Cast Down from the High Heavens. Banished from Eternal Paradise.
Its silver face turned to regard the woman, who was no longer wearing the triumphant leer.
I Know of Your Ilk. In Your Hubris You have Thrown Away His Gift. In Your Despair You have Lost Yourself to Darkness.