You're why he's gone, I'll never forgive you.

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Three brothers were taken in by God to become the messengers of the holy word, to become guards of the mortal realms. Each brother had a gift given to them by God alongside halos above their heads, a “token of appreciation” God called it.

The oldest could see no evil. Those rotted with malicious intent looked like rotting corpses in his eyes. A judge of dying souls

The middle could hear no evil. Heresy and lies weakened him and sounded like static. A counselor, seeing into one's soul.

The youngest could speak no evil. He could not speak of any evil, even his own. A guard of truth and lies.

The gifts of God swayed the younger brothers to believe in the kindness of their caretaker. They didn’t understand why their brother kept his distance. Meanwhile, the oldest looked on in horror as his brothers entertained a rotting husk.

One day, God became ill. The younger brothers scoured for a remedy, but neither had success. As times grew desperate, the oldest watched as his brother's fear began to change. He could see the rot beginning to spread. Fearful of the sight, he finally told them what he saw. Despite his best attempts, the middle brother couldn’t understand his brother through the static, and the youngest couldn’t say a word.

The youngest isolated himself while his brothers struggled to understand each other, and during that time they began to notice the changes. Their skin was going pale, and their eyes growing darker. Small, stabbing pains like an invisible cut splitting open on their faces. Their halos could no longer be removed without excruciating pain, and through it all, no answers could be found in their dying god.

It was when the youngest returned that they understood their changes, their pains. His skin was pure white and glowing, legs twisted into a form closer to a hooved animal, and pure black eyes. The voice coming through was still their brother; rambling as though he didn’t notice the changes to his form at all. He said he had a plan, a way to cure God. A new body, taken from a mortal and given to God.

The oldest pleaded with his brother, begging him to see what was becoming of them all and to drop the project. His brother refused to listen, and convinced the middle brother of his plan. Seeing their initial agreement, the oldest watched with a heavy heart. Even they began to fight before long, the middle brother was still caring and empathetic, youngest brother had no regard for the lives of the humans whose bodies he was attempting to preserve.

The oldest hadn’t realized, even he hadn’t seen it fully. It had rotted his youngest brother from the inside, and he could see now; a hollow, rotting husk speaking in his brother's voice. Begging him to help with hands stained black, swearing that their brother had betrayed him. “Where has Raphael gone, Gabriel?” The older brother asked fearfully, watching as Gabriel’s demeanor changed from loose and hunched to straightened and tense.

“I’m right here, Michael. Can’t you see me?” Raphael and Gabriel’s voices sobbed in perfect sync as Gabriel’s claws dug deeper into Michael’s skin. “What’s going on, Michael?” The voices cried. Michael was frozen, before he could even process what he was wearing he began to back away, refusing to break eye contact with the four eyes staring back at him in terror. “Michael…? Michael, why are you leaving me?” The voices asked shakily, matching Michael’s steps. “I started this project for all of us, Michael… I wanted to help.” Their posture changed again, hunching forward and loosening up. Chuckling through the tear like black drops dripping from their eyes. “She’s leaving us behind, Michael. Raphael tried to leave too. You’re all I have left.”

“Please don’t leave me, too.”