The wing'd Apothecary

In times long past, when medicine men and witch doctors were a scarce resource, there was one angel who did not abide by these rules. This angel was known as the 'healer' or the 'blessed one'. He never preached, never spoke and certainly never brought harm unto others.
It's unclear of how he came to be or what he even looked like as all that is left of him is words. In some stories he has dark skin, in others his skin is red and his wings are black. In the stories of the snow folk the apothecary bares white wings and a light blue skin tone.

His most commonly told story is one in which he rose the dead from their premature graves and gifted them new life. Their plague marks were banished from their bodies and their memories of dying, stolen from them. I write now with short time as I must hunt in the morning but the story goes something like this..
A plague brought about by a foul shadow seeped into the lungs of the people from a little town called Pinestep as they slept. Their guards were lowered and even the gods above were unable to prevent it.
The first day or two was the best for these people as they showed no signs other than minor coughs. However, as the hours stretched into days, those days held sleepless nights. Mothers awoke in the middle of night to their newborns being stolen away from them. Daughters were forced to bury their mothers and sons to bury their sisters.
The town quickly fell into anarchy and misery. Mass graves began to sprout up on the corner streets and they were quickly filled. Though the town only held three hundred to begin with, there weren't holes deep enough to contain their boated and boil covered corpses. After only two weeks the dead were no longer mass buried and burned on the carts they had been placed on. The disease spread to the remaining fifty of the town and consumed them slowly.
The town went silent very quickly. Three weeks since the outbreak and everyone perished. Not a single person remained in the town. Not a dog, not a cow, not a cat, not a child. This is when the Apothecary arrived. His wings hidden behind his cloak of black webs. His hands were blue and seemingly lifeless.
He walked over to a mass grave and without so much as a whisper, he breathed new life into their corpses. They rose from their pits and began to return to their former selves. He took away the burns of the scorched corpses and offered them youthful looks once more. The diseased livestock were also redeemed.
It took three weeks for the disease to harvest them all but it took this man of greatness only one afternoon to mend its carnage. When all was done, he erased their memories of dying and continued on his path. They remembered burying each other but not dying themselves.

It is debated if he still lives to this day or if he ever lived to begin with. Few say he was a lich bent on breaking his curse while others claim he was a messenger sent from the divine. Though it is rare to hear, some stories even tell of him merging with the shadows themselves to undo the darkness that had befallen the ill. This causes some to believe him a demon more so than an angel. The only thing that is for certain is that his talents, his powers were unmatched by any other who walked the surface at that time in history.