Eight angels encircled Michael, their weapons drawn in a synchronized display of deadly intent. The glint of swords, spears, and maces punctuated the charged atmosphere. In the face of this formidable assembly, Michael kept his composure, his posture poised for whatever would unfold.
"What happened to Marli?" Michael's voice was resolute, his eyes locked onto the elf who had revealed his identity. He needed answers, and the presence of these angels boded ill for the goddess he sought.
The elven angel's lips curled into a taunting smile. "You needn't worry about Marli," he said, his tone edged with malice. The reply was cryptic, unsettling Michael further.
