‘I wasn’t flesh,’ Uriel reminisced, ‘but from the hefty void that composed me, I forced a wing out, out through a ripple in the abyss I laid upon. I threw it before me, dragging myself into corporeal torture, as if lugging from ocean to mud — and I was dirty, I was dripping. I wanted to sob, because I couldn’t scream even if pain was all I was, but I couldn’t cry either, because you gave me eyes but no tears.
