The scene, played out in a vacant stretch of a largely abandoned city, set within a country largely forsaken of those who actively sought the One who created them bore silent witness to the transformation of something rarely seen and yet fundamental to those who believe. The cold blood stained concrete lit dimly by a half-moon seemed to warm with light.
The light became several beings that were clothed in it, as for a moment the spiritual realm morphed over into the physical. Seven beings with the appearance of warriors stood gathered about the body of the one they had been tasked with the protection of.
They had not failed and yet death had come, but for some death does not bind. Even so they remained in watchful guardianship as they had not been ordered to give up their post.
The darkness stirred as unclean entities chuckled on the fringes of the cast-off light at what to them was a victory. One guardian turned away to face outward and all jubilation ceased until only frozen silence remained.
This was no laughing matter and more importantly no victory over a saint of God had been achieved this night. The angel turned back around to watch as the other six were with fascination as to what would occur this night.