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Summary
There was a reason he was called an angel, and not all of it had to do with his wings and most certainly not his kindness.
He knew he was a sight to behold. From the shin down his legs and feet were a dark red, blood oozing over chains soaked brown. Tunic white no more, black with blood and filth His matted blond hair hung in clumped strings around his face. Blue eyes were shadowed by the sun behind him.
"Now we can have a fair fight," Phil said with a grin.
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Slow burn fantasy-adventure about Phil's rise to immortality and his legacy as the Angel of Death.