#ellipsesarefun writes

Her mobile phone beside the pile of sheets lights up, catching her attention. She releases her pen and taps on the screen to check the message. Raven holds back a groan only for a heavy sigh to come out.

It's not unusual for a client to seek her consult on another case involving dark magic right when she has a pile of tasks stacked up for the week.

She highlights some lines and scratches some notes with increasing fervor until the end of the page. The door bell chimes, and she finds a familiar green face waving at her. Raven pauses to raise an eyebrow in recognition, taking a sip of a still chilly Matcha frappe, before she resumes scribbling her last few sentences. Her morning companion, Garfield, busies himself behind the counter, only visiting her table to place a plate of bacon egg sandwich.

"Thanks Gar." She says as she stops her scribbling to take a bite. He shoots her a grin. For someone who just finished a 3-month mission, Garfield manages to appear like he never once had a bruise in his life. His dark eyebags say otherwise.

Raven knows the Night Shift has ended when he's around. Cyborg and Starfire are usually the ones who take care of their night customers. Demons, sorcerers, and other supernatural heroes (and antiheroes) from this realm and other realms frequent this café for business dealings rather than pleasure. She may have seen Zatanna with Doctor Fate and Batman once when she and the other Titans met for another recon mission, but that's a rarity. Night Shift has a magic protocol she herself created (protection spells, invisibility spells, offensive spells, and the like) in order to produce a neutral environment for the purpose of any legal (and allegedly illegal) dealings.

Day Shifts, starting now as the first few customers enter the shop, are for humans.

"Did you check your phone?" Garfield asks while he returns to the table behind the counter, preparing for the day.

"Already did." She replies right before her cellphone receives another message.

"Check again!" He says, chuckling at her gruntled dismay.

Raven touches the phone screen, checking that the message she received was from Damian Wayne, asking (more like demanding) “her assistance over certain perilous matters of the darkest magics.” She ignores the thrill (and a boost to her ego) at the sight of Damian Wayne (who seems to have an annoying glaring problem with her) seeking for her consult. He has a lot of connections (from both villains and heroes) and could have gone for anyone else like Zatanna or Zach through Batman. The Zatara cousins are notoriously famous in all magic communities. Any realms she travels or leisures into and she hears stories of them and not any of them are the same.

Still, as flattered as she is at his gesture no matter how it was only for business and not pleasure, she ignores his message. Her exam isn’t going anywhere soon and Raven does not want to delve into her own complicated feelings with her own soulmate as of the moment. Her emotions, like energy work, take time and effort to untangle themselves. Her heritage and her practice amplify them and while she has more grip with her own empathic abilities, mishaps are unavoidable.

And she doesn’t want to deal with them right now. She’s taken precautions to protect her energy and keep a balanced energy field around her and fortunately for her, humans rarely venture to this coffee shop on Sunday mornings so few customers are around as of the moment.

Unfortunately, today has other plans for her when she catches Damian’s energy at cafe’s alleyway.

Immediately, Raven hovers her hands as subtle as she can over the table and closes her eyes. She targets the surge of energy, and determines that he is alive but feels the dark energy lingering in his wounds. She takes a deep breath and exhales, visualizing an invisible barrier to keep non-Titans and villains away.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos." Once the spell activates, she quickly shoves her stuff into her back and shoots up from her seat, leaving the unfinished beverage she ordered. It's not unusual for students to come and go so she slips past the now crowded line without notice. By the time she exits out of the cafe, her glamour spell has already been on and she's now in her hero uniform.

Raven makes a turn for the alleyway. She doesn't even have to look elsewhere to find his body, not in this cramped space and the ghastly smell of the garbage containers. On instinct, she casts an air freshener spell, flooding the alleyway with a mild floral scent.

Raven pauses as she catches the sight of his body. He's lying supine among the black trash bags, dark magic oozing from his extremities and at the right hypogastric area of his abdomen. It appeared as if someone just dumped him there.

Or... no. It wasn't that someone dropped him from a high area but more so that someone shot him with dark magic and Robin, being Robin, evaded the perpetrator as best as he could and dumped himself into the nearest area that's securely warded by her magic.

"Hello there, fellow citizen." Raven greets him with the usual flat look but she's aware that he sees the amused gleam shining through her lavender eyes.

"Hello." He says through ragged breaths but she hears, "Where the fuck have you been?" from the tone of his voice.

"That looks broken. You need a doctor." She says and it earns a grunt from the boy wonder himself. The silent judgment is already heavy with tension so she eases her energy field in, and focuses her attention on his wounds instead. She kneels by his side and hovers her hands over his body, palms and fingers glowing in deep lavender.

So far nothing damaging along his chest and upper abdominal area. She doesn’t sense any fractures along the trunk, extremities, and spinal area. Only open wounds are the ones brimming with dark magic. But wait-

Shit.

The dark magic is gradually eating through his flesh. So far the upper extremities and the abdomen have superficial damage but it can’t be said for the one on his right shank. Raven keeps her glowing hand hovered on the flesh.

They’re past dermis the now, she notes, but it’s only scratched the surface of the muscle tissue. She calculates that she still has enough time but at the unknowable rate of which the magic is eating at him, it would have been a lot more fatal by the next hour.

It’s now or never, she supposes. She isn’t familiar with the source of the magic but nevertheless, it can be transmuted.

The sorceress keeps her magic glow throughout his body and stands in front of him. She closes her eyes with her palms towards the sky and takes a deep breath, drawing out her mystic power from within, in preparation. She mutters a warding spell and a glowing purple bubble encapsulates the two, containing the unknown magic within.

Raven lifts her arms to the sky and her sigil appears right where they’re situated, glowing brighter than it usually does.

"By the power of Azarath, I seek your guidance. Grant me the strength and the courage to undo the sorcery done on this poor, wretched soul." She whispers. As if to answer her prayer, she feels the power within her brighten ten-fold, engulfing her and Damian in this majestic, blinding white light...

"Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos."

..until suddenly, there is nothing but the light.

...

Everything returns to its normal state of equilibrium. Raven completes the ritual and the ward and sigil all dissipate, leaving her with Robin absent of any dark magic. Still, she crouches down again and lifts her glowing white hands towards him, checking for his vitals.

So far, blood pressure, heart rate, and respiratory rate all have normal measurements. There is absence of any contusions, lacerations, abrasions, penetrating wounds, or any other type of wound. The ones done by the dark magic are fully healed and there are no lingering scars.

She, however, feels the fatigue. Whether it's coming from him or her, she can't tell at this point. That was a powerful spell and Raven is going to need all the mental and emotional strength for tomorrow's exam. She reminds herself to sign a leave of absence for a month because ward work is coming for her right after that exam and she needs to amp up her energy shields.

Raven watches his face in the soft incandescence of her lingering magic and.. as much as she feels endeared by him right now, she lets herself feel the annoyance at the emergency call on a Sunday morning.

By Azarath, do they need more sorcerers. This fuckery has to stop.

I’ve been harboring feelings for him for a long time but I never acted on them for a number of reasons... Sometimes, we were romantically and sexually involved with other people. Other times, there never seemed to be a time and place to voice it out on the open. The moments we spent alone meditating, reading together, flying during my nightly rituals are the moments I cherish too much to let him feel my burden.

But out of all the reasons I've expounded, My father is the center. Even when I have created an enchanted fortress created out of his and my own demonic magic (with the help of Constantine and Zatanna), I still fear that he may one day break through those chains and destroy Earth... and kill Damian. Trigon senses the bond between us and it disgusts him.

His insults hit right through my own insecurities. I mean technically, he is trapped in crystal that’s stored in a small box that I carry around but damnit there are times when his thoughts crowd over to mine and... it terrifies me.

The mechanics of the bond isn’t the “if he dies, then I die too” but more of “I feel his presence more than I let on”. I still have no idea if it also might be the former, but the latter is one that I experience often. I don't always know what he is feeling (I may be an Empath but I have my mental barriers to maintain). It's only when he's in danger do my senses burn right through my barriers. It probably comes with this strong sense of protectiveness within me, a desperate need to keep him safe... and it’s becoming a little too obvious.

Throughout the six years as Titans, training with Damian has gradually become a torture... Every urge to shot turns into every urge to shield him from the pain... Every scar he receives fuels my anger against those who dare to hurt him, especially the enemies we’ve faced during missions and/or patrol. 

The last one was worse. I arrived at the scene with him on the floor, body tainted with bruises and then..

I saw him on the floor.. suddenly burnt into ashes.. face barely recognizable... I heard my screams of agony, despair, and heartbreak as I watched my other self enveloping him in what seems a spell..

I love you...

And it wasn’t a dream but a memory... It all felt so real, like I was in Apokolips (what the hell is Apokolips?) once more and the Earth has crumbled to its fucked up state and he was gone and I needed to save him (from what?)...

I didn’t even stop to comprehend what it was and I lost my control. 

AZARATH. METRION. ZINTHOS!

...

I blacked out, I think, and now I find myself back in the infirmary of the Titans Tower. Not a single glimpse of a sunlight reached the room and nothing stands out from the dark except a figure sitting beaide me.

"Hi." Is the only greeting I offered. Damian stands and turns the lights back on. He sits back down, burning holes into my skull. I squint at the brightness and immediately force myself to focus at some place that isn't him.. I couldn't bare to look at him.

I hear a sigh but I let my gaze linger at the clock far longer than I liked, matching my breaths with the ticks and tocks of the arrows of the clock. His agitation prickles at my senses like a thorn to my side. The damned urge to come and wrap him in my arms gradually resurfaces once more. 

He clears his throat just in time, like he already knew what I was thinking and I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat pooling my cheeks. 

“Look,” he says and I pause my train of thought, “You and I both know there’s more to this that letting your demon lose and almost killing Dr. Light, so let’s not beat around the bush.” I couldn’t look at him, I just can’t bear to.. But I nodded, just so he knows that I’m taking his words seriously (and I always do)..

I might as well tell him..

“I’ve been having nightmares ever since the first time I healed you.” There’s movement from my periphery but I ignore it, “Of you.. dying...” Silence is his only answer so I continued.

“It wasn’t that bad at first but through years it’s been difficult to fight this desire to protect you all the time.” I haven’t reached the most important part yet and I’m already feeling the rising tension in the air. He holds up a hand, and I wait for him to speak as I try to calm my heartbeat. 

“Raven, I was trained by the League of the Assassins. I know how to handle myself-” 

“I know you do, Damian.” I cut him off, hearing my voice rise a bit,

(And I realize later that he didn't need to say this because damnit the smart ass saw right through me. He only did so to bait me into confessing.)

“But these aren’t nightmares.. not really. They’re from another timeline.” I let out a sigh. This conversation is beginning to exhaust me but he needs to know. I turn to him this time and he’s not holding back his own concern etched on his face. He gets up from his chair and sits at the edge of my bed. My gaze drifts to his hand. I remember a lingering feeling, probably from another memory of that timeline, that he’d reach out and hold my hand in his. 

“There was a war.. We were around at this age..” I continue, “We were trying to stop someone and... you died in the process. I revived you.. brought you back from the dead.” I watch him watch me. Not a single gasp was uttered nor any ounce of surprised was showed on his face. I didn’t sense any of that. There was so much I can pick from that unreadable frown. 

Longing, concern, understanding.. and it’s only occurred to me that he knows. He’s known this whole time. I was too engrossed to what he felt and what Trigon may do that I didn’t stop to read through his actions. But does he...

No.. I shouldn't ask... not when I haven't laid all the cards out..

"We have a bond.. sort of." I say, and he nods, confirming of his own assumptions, "But I'm not sure if this will get us killed. So far the pain inflicted on you does not mean I receive the same kind of pain. It just fuels my drive to protect you."

"And you think that this was a result from our previous affections to one another in that timeline." He concludes.

"We never really spent time together as... together." I say. It feels out of the blue but something about what I said needed to be heard, "You left for the League of Assassins. You offered me a place there because you had feelings for me. I would have went with you if Trigon hadn't threatened me to kill you if I stayed..."

I face him, feeling this odd confidence swelling within me. "I do still have feelings for you. And Trigon still wants to kill you so.. that hasn't changed.." 

There is a slight elation and giddiness within me as I catch a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on his features. But my heart begins to soar as I watch a tiny, tender smile drawn by his lips.

I've seen that smile before.. a couple of times. There were only glimpses of that smile during our many glances throughout the years, hidden beneath the layers of his mask.

And now the last of his mask has finally come off.

"Raven," he says and I feel the tingle in my ears at the sound of my name, "You should know by now that my perseverance exceeds the fear of being devoured by demonic conquerer of worlds."

I frown at him. "You sound so sure of yourself..."

"You've defeated him twice, Raven." He reasons, "In this timeline and probably in other timelines. You were lucky, you say, but now.. you're--no, we're, more than four times as lucky."

"Damian.. where is this all coming from?" I ask, because he makes it sound so simple. Like he's up against merely a strict father who wouldn't let his daughter marry the person she loves in those cheesy romcoms. But this isn't a romcom. This is Trigon, for Azar's sake..

"He isn't called a Conquerer of Worlds for no reason!"

"And that doesn't stop you for creating a tiny fortress that entraps and gradually diminishes his demonic magic instead of trapping him in a crystal and sticking it to your forehead from your other timeline. Look Raven,” he continues, “You and I both know that there’s something between us? Why wait for the inevitable?” Why wait till I leave for the League of Assassins? Why wait till the possibility of Apokolips comes around again? He leans in and his bright green eyes search my own.

I keep my frown on my face, not wanting to give in to his charms. He throws back a smirk because he's fucking...

"Insufferable. That’s what you are." I spit the words at him, only halfheartedly at best. He laughs. The cheeky fucker is laughing me.

"But I'm a kind and generous soul." He teases with a grin on his face. And shit, I can't fight my own my smile any longer. He reaches out and I meet him halfway, entwining our fingers together. I haven't affirmed anything but the gesture already is the answer. Our answer. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. Might as well take the chance before it’s too late.

Something magical, his aura perhaps, loops with my own. I close my eyes let the magic guide me.. and him. A meadow materializes itself and I find him in the distance, his smile warm and inviting. I extend my hand to him and he mirrors my actions. A raven flies out of my hand and another one out of his. At the same time we open our eyes and-

The magic suddenly bursts forth into a kaleidoscope of colors, a plethora of shapes of any kind. They all coalesce into a giant raven. A white raven. It soars above us, circling around the room with a happy tune. It eventually disappears into a sparkle of fireworks. We laugh and turn our gazes to one another. 

With foreheads pressed against each other, we guide our silent conversation with twinkles in our eyes and smiles forming on our lips. It's like those typical chessy lovebird montage things people see in romantic subplots. It might be the calmness of the air or the sleep edging its way through my train of thought but I can sense our heartbeats in sync. A lullaby to my woes, perhaps, but someone like me can hope that this bond is knitting our souls into a comfortable blanket, however mysterious and unpredictable it may be.

Trigon's box rattles on the table. I almost forgot that it was there in the first place. I feel his presence, cursing disgusting words at the edge of my aura but I pay no heed. 

Tenten's finished restocking supplies for her weapon's shop and Neji has no missions lined up since his recent month-long Mist Village mission so they decided to walk around the village to catch up on lost time. They happened upon their former training grounds, finding Hinata and their daughter watching Rock Lee doing his usual training. Gai sensei and Kakashi are also audiences to the scene, though are simultaneously exchanging menial gossip.

"It's a full house here." Neji mutters to himself, earning a laugh from his wife. 

"You like them, anyway." She says, raising her eyebrows at him, "Besides, they were eagerly expecting your arrival." And as if to prove her point, their friends pause their chatter to greet the two. Lee still continues his push ups but raises a hand to wave at them. 

Hikari wobbles towards them, her smile drawing dimples on her fair plump cheeks. Her hair is tidied in a braid similar to Hinata's but some of the little ones stick out from the spring breeze the passes by from time to time. Her little arms crush around the plush kunai toy Neji bought for her 2nd birthday. The sight squeezes Tenten's heart that tugs at a memory of a little girl, alone and no one to call home to. 

Hikari stumbles, distorting the replaying memory at the forefront of her mind. Her husband rushes forward and swoops their daughter into his arms before Hikari utters a cry. 

"There, there, my little moon," He shushes his child's fears with the lull of his deep voice and warm embrace, "Papa's got you." A gentle smile forms on her lips at the scene of Neji holding Hikari, the moonlit eyes of father and daughter gleaming against the morning sunlight. It paints a sacred space in her mind, something that the little girl in her memories have longed for years.

"Oi!!!" Lee cries out, still at his 125th push up, "Are you guys gonna stand there or train?" 

"Lee-kun! Please pace yourself!" A worry line creases on Hinata's eyebrows. She turns to walk to the said man sweating it out in the spring heat.

"You've only just got back from the hospital a few days ago!" She adds, stopping in front of him with hands on her hips, "You can't just exert yourself immediately.."

"With the training he's had throughout the years, that's his normal speed.." Neji interjected with a roll of his eyes.

"And he's trained by me!" Gai-sensei shouts from behind them. Hinata looks at Tenten, eyes pleading, but the weapon's master merely shrugs. It's true, anyways. This is how most of their days were spent before they went off to the more dangerous and Jonin-level missions. Training for the Chuunin exams and testing out twenty different kinds of weapons were two of the major things that they were looking forward to. Aside from all the Sasuke business of course.

Hikari's smile and laughter grabs his attention again. The Hyuuga meets his forehead with hers as he whispers a lullaby from his childhood. Sometimes Tenten recalls his teenage grumpy and wonders how they ever got here.

He catches her stare with a question on his face.

"So, you wanna have a few matches with me?" Neji asks with a gesture at the empty area of the training grounds, "One on one?" His lips curve into a smirk.

The Weapons's Master summons her staff from her scroll and smirks back, saying, "Sure! Don't hold back. Got a few tricks up my sleeve."

The Hyuuga raises an eyebrow at her staff and then at her, unimpressed, "With just that?"

"Babe, please." Tenten readies her bo staff, "This little thing is just warm up." The quest for unique weaponry is a never-ending one. She has batch of new ones she found to try on her husband.

Neji narrows his eyes at her and assumes into his Hyuuga stance. If there's one thing she knows he learned, it's to never underestimate her.

"Go Mama and Papa!" The cheer from their daughter brings a smile on Tenten's face. They charge towards each other, Tenten spinning her staff expertly as they do. The weapon collides against his arm and they both fall into rhythm. It was a dance they've fallen into over and over again. It wasn't exactly the same dance but the evolution of it as a result from the obstacles they've triumphed in their lives.

Their adventures never ended, merely starting through another chapter. She didn't think she could ever find her niche as a ninja but now she travels around the world mastering the art of weaponry on missions. She never had a family of her own, but they found her, anyways.

Somehow the things in her life, and the people around her, will only continue to keep growing and expanding and for once she is at peace.. because even when there will be more challenges in her way, she knows that there is a growing family behind her to come home to.

The Weapons Master twirls and aims the blunt end of the staff at his head. The Hyuuga slips and knocks the staff of her hands. The staff flies above him and explodes from the bomb Tenten planted earlier. The smoke clouds over the two of them but Tenten is already moving towards him with swords in each hand. She jumps with a flip and falls with her leg outstretched for a kick.

Raven feels her body tremble at Trigon's fires of hell blasted through the helpless cries of Azarath's people.

He said he would spare you all.. I'm so sorry.. I didn't think..

That was right. He did say he would spare them. He said he was her father and because of that he loved her. He promised. She believed him. But alas, she realizes now that demons only play their wicked strings over children who’ve only knew the world through their elders and spellbooks.. who’ve only seen the wonders of magic with an immense curiosity.. And such curiosity can be manipulated and turn against themselves. 

Mother of Azarath, I beseech you...

“Raven..” She looks down and her eyes find the horror, and maybe morbid understanding, in her mother’s eyes. She parts her lips to call out the only remaining person in her life but not a single sound was uttered as the fires engulfed the last remains of her mother’s loving face. Raven tries again and still not a single word chokes out of her lungs. Her whole body shivered in terror. For a moment, she felt her heart tighten, as though constrained by her own fear. 

Mother of Azarath, I beg your forgiveness...

Her legs give in to the weight and she kneels, turning her head towards the sky. She notices a flash of white light shimmering through the ominous grey clouds. Maybe somewhere, there lies a paradise.. Maybe she was out of her mind but she has to take a chance..

Mother of Azarath, I beseech you.. give me strength!

She concentrates on the silver lining etched on the sky and utters.

Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos!

---

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. 

He was barely past half of the mountain, but his small body persevered. He still has food from last night’s hunt and there’s still enough water for a day. He broke his arm along the way but it will heal soon, he says. His muscles burned against the frosty winds of the mountain and his boots sunk into the deep sea of snow but still he holds on.

This is training. This is for the League of Assassins. This is my calling. What I’m meant for.

From the day he was born, his grandfather never let him forget that Damian is an al Ghul. He was, still is, meant for something greater. That someday he can lead humanity to greatness. Ra’s al Ghul, reminded him it won’t be easy but a thousand battle scars is worth the future they envisioned for him. 

But at what cost? What worth is ruling a nation when his body is failing to accommodate the harsh winds? When the hands of death are near, biding their time till his soul plunges into the abyss? His body is meant to be a weapon. His body is destined for destruction. He’s brought into this world for a greater purpose! He must survive this! Failure isn’t an option! It never was, it never is, and it never will be. 

I must survive.. For the Demon’s Head. For the League of Assassins!

The next checkpoint is only some meters ahead. He feels his lungs explode as he tries to grasp for breath. He ignores the sting from his head and focuses on his steps, not keeping count on how many they are but on how he’s still moving. He needs to move, move, move. He must not allow himself to be so easily dispensable!

Almost...

Suddenly, everything is swirling around him that he can’t see the checkpoint straight ahead. He can’t feel the hollowness in his lungs.. 

Almost there.. Mother.. Grandfather.. Someone..

Damian falls to his knees and his body begs him to lay down, screaming in pain, and he relents, letting the snow engulf him as the last thing he sees is a flash of something white. Not the snow white, but something ethereal altogether.

An angel, perhaps?

He reaches out to the white and finds purple eyes.

And then darkness.

---

She doesn’t know how or why but white is the first thing that’s shoved onto her face. Raven lifts her head and looks around. The snow and harsh winds was all she could see going in an upward slope. 

A mountain? Why here? Where is here?

Bewildered, she pushes herself out of the snow and allows her psychic senses to scan her surroundings. This was probably one of the places where Trigon was once summoned. 

The ancestors must have worshipped him here..

She jumps when the essence of Hell tickles her skin. A portal must be close by. If she hurries now, maybe she could spare the world from her own destruction. Hell could keep her away from this place, still seemingly innocent from Trigon’s flames. 

She hears a thump on the ground and she looks down, alarmed at the site of lone boy buried in the snow. For the second time today, she kneels, sensing only a brush of life against her psychic aura. She pauses, feeling three human psychic auras close by but not close enough to reach him in time. The boy clad in battered clothes with a sword in his hand looks around her age. 

Mother of Azarath...

She doesn’t know why but she’s compelled to save this stranger. It does not atone for her failure, but at the very least, maybe she could salvage a life amongst the lives she could not protect.

She presses her hands to his icy cheeks, feeling the warmth of her magic. Her soul brushes against the barrier of his own and suddenly she receives flashes. Born by what seems to be a nation of people who kill people, this boy was raised to be their king.. their leader... such a child to be placed into such high regard... such a child to be pressured into the harsh grasps of reality at such a young age... Why would someone do that..?

By the powers of Azarath, I beseech you...

She hasn’t tried this spell but maybe there’s a chance... A small breath of hope..

And so she prays, as her magic flows throughout his veins, his organs, his soul... It envelopes him, almost like a blanket. She prays that he be free of such hardship. That he find people who would love him and care for him like his so called blood family wouldn't. She prays of a light inside his heart would shine against his corrupted soul and fly to greater pastures. 

Mother spirit of another realm, protect this stranger and give him and me the strength to face the dark force that is coming...

And then she hears a cough and a steady heartbeat. She releases her hands and watches her magic take a form of shield around his body. A figure of a raven appears on top of his head, pecking at his cheek. Her protection spell worked. For the first time, she feels her lips curve into a hopeful smile as the stranger’s eyelids gradually open, enraptured by the green pupils against the snow. 

A growl came from the distance, breaking her away from her small bubble of fascination and calmness. She stands up and without looking back, opens a portal to Hell and hurries out of the lands of Earth, leaving only a prayer.

---

Mother of Azarath, I beseech you to protect this stranger... for whatever obstacle there may be..

He doesn’t remember much of that encounter nor how he ended up at the foot of the mountain unscathed. His task is complete and has now ascended to a level higher from before. His missions have become far harsher, but not as harsh as the first kiss of death he experienced in the mountain. 

This might have been the delusion but even without her presence, he feels her energy inside him, a constant beat with his pulse. Angel or not, he thanks her for saving his life. Somehow, this won’t be last time he’ll meet her.