Azrael shoved his youngest son to the ground roughly. He glared at toddler Shadow--his small frame, tiny fingers and wide silver eyes evoking nothing withing Azrael, not even a spark of pity or remorse.
"I've had it with you." said Azrael, his tone of frustration bubbling over through his gritted teeth. "You have no spine, no ambition! Why can't you be more like your brother?!?"
Another boy identical to Shadow stop playing with his wooden toy sword as he witnessed the abuse. He froze, stuffing down his anxiety, knowing he'd get in trouble if he interfered.
Azrael walked into his quarters and slammed the door, leaving the twins. Looking into the cracked mirror upon his dusty dresser, he stopped and stared at the scar across his face. Was he as ugly inside as he looked? Lilith had always found beauty and kindness in his face, despite his rough experiences in the war of his past life, and the hatred that had caused his scar. He would have been lost without her, and wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for her. He clutched his chest as he felt a deep pain--he wished she was there with him. The pain he felt at losing her was worse than any scar.
"I must raise my boys to be strong..." Azrael told his reflection. "The world is cruel, and they can't get attached to things they might lose..."