Lower Tadfield Safehouse

Opposite of Raphael, Baraq held the lock over the rippling water. The metal was rusted so far that he might have been holding a clever latticework carved from carved red rock. The wind buffeted at his wings, but he barely registered the ache. Everything seemed very unlikely. The night, this spell, the archangel and human he had somehow thrown his lot in with.

The tip of the stave began to glow, and the waters of the pond parted.