Bournael was looking down at the parcel that had just been delivered to him. He wasn’t even expecting an arrival. Nothing on the schedule indicated he’d have to show up to deal with the damned. No, he was getting some fresh air on the top of the ziggurat, as one does when one is a fallen angel reminiscent of a raven, when the sky broke, promptly followed by Lily kicking in something through the hole and yelling at Bournael.
Honestly, he wished he had a mouth on this form, to take a sip of coffee from a paper cup. It felt appropriate to the situation that unfolded before him. If he tried to do so now, he’d just bonk the cup on the bronze mask and spill the coffee over himself. The man before him was still reeling from the fall, holding onto his ribs, an ominous red stain spreading on the
