Azrael stood still, lost in thought, as he grappled with the revelation that the angel's intervention in returning him through time might have left an indelible mark on him.
It was a strange notion, having a piece of them embedded within him. The concept felt odd, but Azrael dismissed the unease, adopting a pragmatic mindset.
Whatever had transpired was irreversible, and there was no sense in dwelling on the past.
Azrael stood there, his chest tight with anger as he mulled over the old man's words. Anaine's voice echoed in his mind, stirring up a tempest of emotions.
"There's no turning back now. I've come this far, I can't return."
Turning to Shadow, Azrael softened, his anger momentarily forgotten as he looked into the horse's eyes. Fucking stupid horse.
"Let's go for a ride, buddy. We need some fresh air," he said gently, patting the horse's head.