Angels aren't always dressed in white.
Amya knelt on the roof of the building, staring down at the scene below her. She had failed her mission. She was too late to warn him that his friend that betrayed him, and that his children were in danger.
"I will not fail again," she murmured, as a sheet of fine paper fluttered right into her hand, as if given to her. Written there were two names, not one. Unusual, really. Amya tilted her head slightly as she noted the words written beneath.
Due to your recent record of failures, your next assignment will be partaken as a mortal.
You have ten human years to set your affairs straight. This is your final chance.
Bowing her head, staring down at the scene below her, a man being placed into a police cruiser. "I am sorry, Noah."
Standing, she spread her wings, the inky black of a raven, and took to the sky.
"I will give your sons my all."
Sometimes, they're dressed in black and blood.