“There are memories in scars,” I say. The transformation removed centuries of hard-earned scars in a matter of minutes. I wonder how long it will be before my memories fade away. My memory of food still lingers, but it is fading. I no longer need to eat to sustain myself and the sweetest berries will taste bland to my converted pallet. Angels are creatures of efficiency. Why should we have taste buds when there is no need to eat? I will miss the pleasure of eating. My time amongst man held more pain than pleasure, but it was part of living.
“Yes there are,” Accantha says. “See this one here?” She points to a long, jagged scar that encircles her forearm. “I received this one the last time I fought one of the fallen. It was a great battle, back before the coming of man, and we won, but I nearly lost my arm in the process. A big-mouthed demon bit my arm off, but I removed his head and took it back. Fortunately, Julius was there to reattach it.”
“You were friends?” I ask.
“More than friends,” she says, “he was my brother.” She smiles up at me. “He sensed something great in you, and I plan on making sure you don’t waste whatever it is you have.”
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