Blackness. Blackness, blackness... 

A pause of time, undetermined amount. 

The leathery sound of wings, a burst of air and a soft thud of something landing.

Two red slits of light pierce the blackness. Nothing else is visible. A soft breeze blows, a long purple, ethereal sword grows into existence in the being's right hand, glowing softly in undulations like flames. 

The sound of wind occurs again, a short distance away, as the red eyes remain motionless. The softer sound of feathers occurs in a multiple bursts like a landing bird. Blue eyes glow, illuminating beautiful white locks beside them as the other being faces the first. A white sword lights up out of nowhere, making the two opponents visible as it is lifted straight up in a formal salute. 

The purple ghostly blade lifts up in a mirror salute to the blue-eyed being. Mithias is now clearly the one, demonic in form. "Hope." He says.

"Love." Says the armored angel, Elcipse. 

They both smile.... and clash blades.