1 comments/ 23085 views/ 3 favorites Angel of Death By: darkmaas They were naked in a white room. She held his erection and rubbed the tip in the moisture seeping from her, then paused and savoured the moment. She heard him groan in anticipation but held him firmly at her opening for a delicious moment longer. Then, summoning all her strength, she took him into her. First the velvet soft tip of his cockhead slipped past her swollen labia; then the fat rigidity of the shaft. He gasped. Then, with a grunt, she opened her sex and sucked with her womb. He collapsed as she welled around him. First his erection, then the rest of his body shrank and disappeared with small slurping sounds, into her loins. She whimpered softly at the exertion and the pain as she stretched around him. Beads of sweat formed a line along her brow. Panting for a moment, she allowed herself the pleasure of listening to his thoughts. She smiled as his surprise and then fear threatened to overcome his lust. Another squeeze with the muscles of her vagina forced the remaining protoplasm from his shrunken frame into his penis, now red and shapeless within her. The fears subsided as he transmuted into a state of primal flesh and lust. Her breathing returned to normal and she stood up. She felt swollen and heavy, but she loved this moment. Her head reeled as he pulsed within her guts. His lust made her dizzy. For a moment, she thought she might fall. An orgasm rippled up and down her vagina before spilling outward and engulfing first her spine and then her soul. She felt his orgasm building but he had ceased to have any functional organs, so his ejaculation, when it came was reduced to a violent pulsation of the meat imprisoned within her sex. Unable to obtain release, he settled into that blissful state that the tantric sages strive a lifetime to achieve. He throbbed slowly, gently, in the warm sea that was her womb. She found herself standing, naked in the white room. She was exhausted but the painful feelings of emptiness and hunger were gone. In the mirror, her reflection glowed, her skin tight and creamy pink. He was still large enough within her to cause a swelling of her lower abdomen above her pubic mound that marred the otherwise flat curve of her belly, but that would pass over the next few hours. The room reeked of her; a pungent mixture of lust and sweat. She opened the blinds and looked out over the city. The rain had stopped and the streets below her pulsed, clean and wet, as if in rhythm with the shrinking flesh within her. She turned back into the room. Her clothes lay as they had fallen by the side of the bed. She reached down and picked up her panties. She slipped them on and adjusted the elastic at the waist over the bulge in her abdomen. She pushed on him to straighten the line and he responded with a little throb of pleasure. Then, she pulled on the rest of her clothing and fluffed her hair in the mirror before leaving his apartment. She walked the block to the subway and returned to the office. Sophie passed her in the hall and remarked cheerfully that she was getting her old colour back. She idly wondered if Sophie could smell the musky "perfume" of the white room. By quitting time, he had shrunk to the point that his gentle pulsation in her loins had been replaced by a warm glow that was all that remained of his burning lust. She returned home, showered and dressed for dinner. She chose an expensive restaurant and ate by herself. Half way through the last glass of her wine, the transformation was complete. His flesh had been compressed and condensed into a mere point of light. It burned in her belly. The satiated lethargy that had overtaken her since leaving the white room was replaced by a nervous sense of anticipation. She became light headed and realized she was wasting time. She paid the bill and staggered from the restaurant. The waiter smiled, thinking her drunk and followed the swaying of her hips with his eyes. He fantasized imbedding himself to the bone between those thighs. She returned to the white room and undressed again. The speck of light that was all that remained of him glowed within her. She turned out the lights and it cast a pulsating pink hue onto the walls around her. She sat in the middle of the floor with her legs crossed, her back ramrod straight, and her hands palm upwards on her knees. The light condensed into an intense point. It passed through the walls of flesh that imprisoned it, into her spine. Then, gathering momentum, the light shot up her backbone and through the top of her head. She screamed as she was consumed with an ecstacy beyond that of the flesh. Later in the dark, she sat, all desire satiated with the achievement of returning that speck of light to its ancient home in the pleroma. Then, she dressed and left the white room for the last time. Angel of Death: Eden & The End Eden Tyrus looked down the path. The Metatron was speaking to the humans. Tyrus made himself invisible and stood closer to hear. "This is the tree of life. It is a living extension of the one in heaven with our Father. You may eat of the fruit of this tree and any tree in the garden... Except for one. The tree of knowledge of good and evil. Eat the fruit of that, you will surely die." Tyrus smiled. He'd never been so happy in the many years he'd been alive. "He's letting them choose to die! Influence always helps choice." Azrael stood with Metatron, out of view of Tyrus, but he saw him. Obviously Tyrus was up to no good. Adom and Chava looked at Metatron and him so innocently. They especially loved staring at him. His hair resembled theirs, and they often wondered what the other angels were like. "Every tree except the one over there?" Adom asked. "Yes. Touch it and you will die. Eat it, you will die. This is a very serious matter. Consequences come with disobedience. But, I have a feeling you will do well in the eyes of the Creator." Metatron smiled warmly at them. Chava smiled and ran to the lake. She definitely resembled a virtue, but wingless. "Adom, look at this fish! It's... Blue?" Azrael smiled. They knew almost next to nothing being on earth for such a little time. He looked about their age, but he was at least a millennia sharper in education. They knew nothing of the war in heaven, and nothing of Tyrus, the one who caused it all. Metatron said adieu to the humans and went to speak to Azrael before he left. "Watch out for Tyrus. He's capable of shape shifting and manipulation. You'll do well." He smiled majestically and took flight. Tyrus smiled as Metatron left Gaia. He leaned against the tree of knowledge. He chuckled as Chava bent over and kissed Adom as he sat under a fruit tree. She really did resemble a virtue. Ari'el actually. Or even Zipporah... Tyrus saw a serpent crawl past his feet. It was beautiful. Sparkly. Blue. Perfect. Tyrus assumed the position, burying the now dead serpent beneath the tree. He crawled through the branches. The leaves had thorns, scratching but not injuring his newfound scales. Days passed. Months passed. Tyrus crawled through the tree's branches remorseful. They didn't even notice the fucking tree they passed every single day. It was in the middle of the garden. They had to have thought of it at least once... Adom went for a walk. Without Chava. She was still sleeping beneath their favourite tree. Adom walked slowly and steadily, away from Chava and towards the tree of knowledge. When he came to stand beneath it, he stared at it. He seemed to take in every detail and flaw of its very being. Then he smiled, looking straight into Tyrus' eyes. He scoffed and turned, walking back to where Chava was sleeping. He lay next to her, stroking her long curly hair. She awoke and looked up at him smiling. He spoke something inaudible and she looked towards the tree. She spotted Tyrus among the thorny leaves. Azrael stood near the gate of the garden. Adom and Chava seemed to be doing well without him. They hadn't encountered Tyrus as of yet, so his worries were minuscule. He began to think of heaven, the Creator, his birth mother and father, the other archangels and Sophia. He hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. He missed her so often; it conflicted with his watching of Tyrus. Today would haunt him for the rest of his servitude on Gaia. Adom was searching for a new kind of vegetable to try for a meal that day. Chava mingled with the animals and picked flowers she thought were pretty. She came across a line of lavender-like flowers that seemed to be creating a path. She traveled along it, petting a little hedgehog as she passed. The path ended and she was looking straight at the tree of knowledge. She gasped and turned to run. "Wait!" Tyrus called. "Wait!" Chava turned and looked at the serpent. "Who are you?" "Cobra." He crawled down a branch and slithered his tongue out and in. "You're the famous Eve." "Chava. My name is Chava." She combed her waist length in front of her, covering her breasts and private parts. "What are you?" "A serpent." He smiled gingerly. "What are you doing on the tree?" She asked quietly. "I live on it," he replied quickly. "You don't die from the fruit. It's called fear. He instils it in every creature He creates. You're no different. No higher, no lower. But technically, you know nothing. This is why He'll threaten to punish you if you eat the fruit of this tree. It's called a scare-tactic. If I say you'll die if you eat something, you will avoid it. Who knows, it could be the thing that saves your life." "He wouldn't do that," Chava said smiling sneakily. "You think you know everything. It's a trick." "Ah, you must be the smart one," Tyrus hissed. "What's something you've always wanted?" "Nothing. I've never needed--" "Not need. Want. It's something that you can do. 'Ask and it shall be given', no?" Tyrus began heading closer to the trunk of the tree. Chava looked around and carefully stepped beneath the tree, avoiding the many thorns. "He actually wants you to know. You have the choice to know." Tyrus engulfed a fruit in his serpent-like mouth. He devoured it with ease. "The more you eat, the more you'll know. And the more you'll want to know." The fruit resembled the large grapes that were located near the waterfall. "Try one. Just one. What is something that you want?" She pulled a fruit from the tree and quickly ate it. It was sweet. Too sweet. "I want other people to love. Like I love Adom, but more. Like him." Tyrus smiled. "Go. Tell him about it. He may be able to help you." Chava smiled and left the tree. Azrael stood ten feet away from the tree as Chava walked away from it. Her lips were stained by the red juices of the fruit. He saw a serpent crawling on the branches. It quickly morphed into Tyrus. He smiled gleefully at Azrael as he walked away. "The end has begun," he said triumphantly. The sky turned grey. One soul had been lost. Chava hadn't found Adom, so she headed back towards the tree of knowledge. Azrael was standing in front of it. He looked defeated. "Azrael," Chava said walking up to him. "Azrael, what's wrong?" Azrael looked into her eyes. They had turned black. Chava reached out and touched his arm. He welcomed the touch. He knew one day he'd have to take her life. Someday. She flipped her hair behind her, exposing her breasts and vagina. Her nipples were perky like that of a virtue when a young angel was being fed. Azrael's mouth watered thinking of his lips on her nipples... "May I?" she asked as she pressed her body against his. Her breasts pressed into his chest and he felt the need to touch her in return. Then it clicked. "No," Azrael answered. He stepped back and saw the loss in her eyes. "You have Adom." "He's not enough," she said greedily. "Yes, he is," Azrael grinded out. "Go back to him before you destroy your paradise." She stepped towards him again, cautiously. "Go!" She turned and ran, looking back at Azrael once before continuing on. Adom sat at the waterfall at midday. Chava approached him from behind, scaring him in the process. "What are you doing?" He asked. He looked into her eyes and frowned. "What have you been doing?" Chava smiled and kissed Adom on his lips. She kissed him so passionately that Adom lost his train of thought. "I've been thinking of Azrael," she confessed. "He seems sad. I tried comforting him. But he had lust in his eyes, so he told me to come to you." "Lust?" Adom raised an eyebrow. "Yes," Chava said quietly. She was no longer looking Adom in his eyes. "Like when I lay with you and you touch me with your fingers, about to have sex with me, you have immense desire in your eyes." "He wanted to do that with you?" Adom asked. He felt like something had been taken away from him. "What did he do to you?" "Nothing, but he looked at me the way you do, until he snapped and said for me to leave." Chava sat beside Adom and entwined her fingers with his. "Leave from where?" "The tree of knowledge," Chava said lamely. "You know, it won't make you die. You just know more. The serpent, Cobra, told me that. He ate a fruit and nothing happened to him. So, I ate one--" "What?!" Adom yelled. "What?!" "I ate a fruit," she responded coolly. "What's the matter?" "Chava, you will die!" Adom became hysterical. "No I won't," she argued back. "I'm not dead, am I?" "You will, though," Adom whimpered. So much for leaving her alone... "Why did you do that?" "The serpent said I could have anything I want," she said. There was no remorse in her voice. "I wanted more humans, like you, to love." "Like me?" Adom looked up at her. "Like me?" "Yes," Chava replied. "I like the way you touch me. I want more—a different man to touch me that way. To make me feel good." Adom became jealous. "I'm not enough?" "No." Her response was cold. He stood and left her by the water fall. The Beginning of the End Azrael watched. There was nothing he could do. Adom loved Chava. He warned him against eating the fruit but it was getting hard to convince the human that all hope was not lost. "I'll lose her," he complained. It had been days and she wasn't dead yet. If anything, she got smarter by the minute. "You may lose her, but you have many more ribs," Azrael said with a smile. "But, in all seriousness, you'll both be out of here. Your paradise will be gone. Do you really want that?" "But I love her," Adom protested. Chava sat near the tree of knowledge. She felt naked all the time. Yes, she was in fact naked all the time, but now she felt shame. She sat weaving vine and fig leaves into something she could barely understand. Clothing? It was similar to what Azrael wore, but more feminine... What was feminine anyway? The more she understood, the scarier it got. The serpent appeared from time to time, not really comforting her, just assuring her that today was not the day she perished. Adom barely spoke to her and he began to talk to Azrael more than he did her. Well, he couldn't be in love with Azrael. They weren't made for each other, they were just friends. She now knew what she wanted from Azrael. She knew Adom couldn't give it to her. He was too... Stupid. If he would just eat the fruit, he would know as much as her. "Chava," Azrael said walking up behind her. He was accompanied by someone. She turned around. It wasn't Adom. It was another angel who sported a wicked smile and eyes as red as the serpent. "This is Tyrus. Or the Devil in your case. He is the serpent. He is 'Cobra'." Tyrus was being held by a slew of hot red chains bound together by a mighty lock and a leash that Azrael was holding. The sky crackled with light and thunder began to sound. Tyrus began to laugh. "He'll do it," he whispered continuously. "Stop," Azrael commanded. Tyrus was getting on his nerves the last couple of days. He was being sneaky by possessing the lions to make them eat birds, and talking to Adom as he passed by the tree. Tyrus turned into a serpent again and slipped from the chains. Azrael was swift and summoned a flaming sword, pinning the serpent through its back. "No!" Chava screamed. Azrael looked up at her. Tyrus was still squirming in his serpent form, but Chava's reaction was shocking. "What do you mean 'no'?" Azrael yelled back at her. "Tyrus, you have tormented my children long enough!" The Creator spoke through the clouds. "May your legs be gone and you will crawl the earth on your belly. Azrael, Adom has eaten the fruit. You may send them out of the garden." Azrael became angry. He screamed and cut off the legs of the serpent and swung it a few times sending it far out of the garden. He turned to where Chava was sitting and he realized she'd left. Where could they be? he thought to himself. He made a blood curdling war cry that sent animals scurrying away. He ascended, his wings carrying him high into the sky. He looked below him and watched as the animals ran like wild creatures with no sense. Then he spotted red hair running through them towards the water fall. They were headed for the tree of life. Azrael swooped, speeding up as he headed towards earth. They cut behind a tree and turned abruptly, but Azrael was still ahead of them. He landed right in front of the tree and began to hover, his black wings creating small tornadoes of fallen leaves and flowers. He had a frustrated look on his face. It was a cross between a sad smile and an angry frown. They speeded around a corner and almost fatally collided with Azrael's carbon-like wings. "Halt!" Azrael screamed. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He drew a massive weapon of fire. It had jagged blades and was almost half his size. "You've sinned Chava, and you dragged Adom down with you. You both are now banished from the Garden of Eden. You will cover your body in shame because you disobeyed the Creator, even under the tutelage of me and Metatron. Leave! Now!" Chava broke down crying. Adom stared at Azrael as if he was ready to murder him. Azrael returned the deadly stare, knowing he'd win. Very easily. Adom picked Chava up and led her away from the tree of life and towards the gate. "Please, Azrael," Chava begged. "Let us stay, please! Let 'him' stay!" Azrael paid no attention to her. He killed a camel and quickly fashioned the best clothing he could and threw the garments at them. As they reached the gate, Tyrus stood to the side, he was covered in blood and laughing hysterically. "He did it!" he exclaimed. "Azrael, did you see that? I was right. I told you, it couldn't be helped." Azrael slashed Tyrus across the chest, shutting him up for a while. He pushed the humans through the gate and the five Grigori showed up, one by one wondering why Azrael had summoned them. "What happened?" Penemue asked. He looked at the sky and back at the humans. "Oh." "Grigori," Azrael said firmly. "You will keep the humans out of the garden. You will teach them to till the land and use the earth. Metatron will speak with you shortly of what can and cannot be taught to humans. You may go." Azrael turned and flew back into the garden. The leaves were dying and the animals were cascading through the gate, running from each other. Azrael stood by the tree of life and stared into the heavens. "I'm sorry, father," he whispered mostly to himself. "I'm so sorry..." "You did nothing." Azrael swung around saw the now injured Tyrus limping towards him, his blood red wings spanned to keep his balance. "No, I wasn't guarding them." "You must be mad," Tyrus chuckled quietly. "You do realize that you only slowed their failing the ultimate test, right? You gave them all the answers and they still failed. Ironic, isn't it?" Azrael stood staring at the evil one. He was about to speak when Tyrus cut him off. "No, no, no. No need to answer, really." Tyrus frowned now. "You're lucky. Blessed, in fact. You can do no wrong. You can't sin wilfully. It's in your fucking black blood to destroy and to judge those who have sinned." "What?" Azrael moved towards Tyrus. "No. I can choose. I have choice." "Yes, exactly. A choice. Sin." Tyrus lit his finger on fire and seared the slash he received from Azrael's sword and continued. "If I was born with sin instilled in me, the way it is in you, I could do whatever the fuck I want." "No, you couldn't. The Creator still wouldn't allow it." Azrael stood tall. His muscles had defined over the course of a year since he'd been on Gaia. "Yes, he wouldn't allow it, Azrael. But he wouldn't kick me out of home and rename me as something so low and despicable. King of Lies. Devil. Satan." "You were the Lucifer, Tyrus. You threw it away at your own will." Azrael saw the maddening look in Tyrus' eyes. "No! He refused me freedom. He refused you too! You just don't know it." Azrael didn't even bother contemplating it. Tyrus was the greatest sinner of all time. He was good at convincing others. He always was. Ignorance was the best way to waste his energy. Tyrus stepped close to Azrael. He was eye to eye, the same height and as easily intimidating. "I can tell you that my love for the Father hasn't changed. It's His word I hate. You; I really admire you. You justify anger and hate. You hate me, but little do you know, ever since you were born I loved you." Azrael looked at the demonic angel. He'd lost his sanity, home and even his name. He was not even worthy of calling himself Lucifer. He was filled with every sin thought to heaven-kind and they've almost seen it all. Azrael was not the kind anymore to notice the good in anyone, but looking at Tyrus, he saw the reminiscent beauty showing up on his skin and in his jet black hair. "I was the highest Seraphim and he used an army and one of my own to take me down. He hit me where it hurts," he almost said in a whimper. "But it's over now. I can't do anything much more than torment that which he loves most." Angel of Death: Mating Mating "Welcome Azrael," the Creator greeted. Azrael didn't respond. He didn't need to. He'd seen death. He'd never foreseen anything, and seeing Adom and Chava's death was traumatizing. The one he'd been trying to see was Tyrus', but he couldn't see past all the chaos and death he would soon be causing. "It's hard, I know." The Creator disappeared to the throne room as always. "Azrael!" Sophia called flying to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Her light brown wings sparkled a little gold in the Creator's light. "I missed you." "I missed you too, Soph," he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her kinky curly mane. He never knew why she was the object of his obsession, but it was eating him from the inside. He missed everything about her. Her afro-like hair and her brown solemn eyes, her light brown wings and petite frame. Her lips. She'd always tease him in school only because he was the only one who'd speak out of turn and act vain and didn't get punished for it. She made him a better angel. He didn't know why she'd never left his side in all the crap he went through with other angels. She grabbed his hand and led him to her home. The last time he was there, he was screaming at her, denying that Cassiel was his father. He felt ashamed of how he spoke to her. "I'm sorry," he said as he sat by her window. "For what?" she asked. She didn't understand why he was apologizing. He couldn't do anything to hurt her... at least up until a year ago. "For snapping at you the last time I was here," Azrael sighed. "And for leaving without saying goodbye." Sophia smiled and touched his face. He'd grown a little bit. His face seemed less feminine and had an aged quality. Something only the archangels seemed to possess despite the fact that angels didn't age past coming of age. "I accept your apology," she replied. "You're still beautiful." He placed his hand over hers and pulled her closer. They were less than inch from each other's faces, ready to give into desire... Azrael stood and led her towards the private room in the back. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. His tongue delved into her mouth, caressing hers with a heated passion. He didn't want to let her go, but it was in all their best interest. He wasn't the same as the other archangels, therefore different rules applied to him. Cassiel was only allowed to mate with Ari'el to create him... Me. "I want to kiss you forever," he whispered into her ear before placing a kiss on her earlobe. She shuddered in his arms and she gripped herself to him, fingering some of his dark glossy feathers. "What's stopping you?" Her eyes stared into his. He couldn't look away. "I have a duty to fulfill." His answer didn't loosen her glare. "I am an archangel." She let him go but still held his gaze. "Cassiel and the others are in Zebul," she confessed. "What's Zebul?" he asked. Where in heaven was that? "The Creator, Spirit and Son made a tier of heaven where the archangels could call home and... mate." Sophia leaned against his chest. "I feel a connection to you, Azrael. I don't know why. It's scary, but I want to be with you." "Let me talk to the Creator," Azrael finally said. "I want you to be wherever you are happy." "Is this what you want? You are subject to a few different rules, Azrael." The Creator had dismissed even the Thrones to speak with Azrael. "Like what?" He had already asked to move to Zebul. "You cannot mate with Sophia just yet." Azrael's breath began to shake. He had a hard time abstaining from her, but he'd try. "Paris and Pharrah have not been mated in a while. They deserve attention. We also have to grow the angel population back to full capacity after the War. I would like you to mate with them." The Creator's words drilled heat into his head. He'd never mated before and now he'd have to mate with two old bags... "Be extra careful with Paris. Gabriel is a jealous one." "Yes, Father." "You may go." "You have to mate with two others? Before me?" Sophia looked defeated. "I want you to myself, Azrael. I need you to myself." "I know, Soph," Azrael chided. "I tried, but somehow I have superior genetics compared to any other angel in Zion right now." "But what about Cassiel?" "I'm stronger. Stronger than all of them." "So you're a tool for selective breeding?" Her face turned into a pout. She turned and headed to her private room. He followed slowly. "I---" he looked at her on the bed. She looked small. She always seemed large and intimidating to him before his transformation, but now he realized she needed him now more than ever. "I'll care for you Sophia, but maybe it's bigger than we're thinking. What if I can't mate with you? What if it's too dangerous? I'd never want to put you in harm's way for no good reason." "So," she said sighing. "When do we get to be together?" "After I mate with... them," he said. He shut his eyes when he saw her wince. "I know it seems like long time, Soph. But I think we can do it." Sophia looked at him for a minute, studying his face. He was truly sincere. He had hope. "What about your duty?" she asked. "What about leaving Gaia. When do you have to go back?" "Not soon," he replied. "The first death will be about 900 years from--" "They've had their first child." Azrael looked out into the sky. The Creator had spoken. First child, he thought. First child? He froze. Images of human children running and playing and teasing and laughing and being jealous and growing and changing and death played in his mind. He gasped. This was just the first child of many, and he saw a young one die before his eyes. "Azrael? Can you hear me?" Sophia shook Azrael by the shoulders. His wings suddenly expanded and he fell back with her on his chest. "I'm sorry," he said helping her up. "I just-- nothing." Sophia stared at him. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." He stood up and fixed his clothing. "I'm going to speak with Mihalo now." He kissed her forehead and exited. "Mihalo," Azrael called out as he reached a pearly gate. No one answered. How do I get to Zebul? Just then a flash of white wings almost blinded him. "Whoa!" "Sorry, Ray," Mihalo greeted. "Nice to see you again. How did you like Gaia?" Azrael shrugged his tan shoulders and smiled. "It wasn't amazing," he responded coolly. "I thought so," Mihalo said. "You must have thought it all a waste." "No, but I was hoping for the best." Azrael sighed. "Where's Zebul?" Mihalo smiled. "You don't know where Zebul is? Cassiel was supposed to take you there, but maybe you were caught up kicking the humans out of the garden." Azrael scratched his head. "He still doesn't like me, does he?" "He thinks you're more annoying now that you're an archangel," Mihalo said grinning. "But you know, I can take you there now if you want." "Sure," Azrael replied. Mihalo stood in front of Azrael and bowed his head. Azrael followed fashion and once he lifted his head, they were in a large grassy field, the grass reaching their calves. "Wow," Azrael exclaimed. "It's amazing." "Better than Gaia, right?" Mihalo walked off in one direction. "Let's go meet with Ari'el." Azrael froze. "I don't know." "Huh?" Mihalo swung around and faced Azrael. "What do you mean 'I don't know'? It wasn't up for discussion." Azrael backed up a couple steps. "Sorry. Okay, let's go." Mihalo laughed and led the way. The castle was majestic. Obviously, it was made for archangels. Mihalo led Azrael down the main hallway, towards the leisure hall. "I guess you can say Ari'el is the Queen Virtue over here," Mihalo explained. "She helps make things nice and cozy; when she's not mad at Cassiel." Azrael smiled. They entered the leisure hall and Ari'el was sitting on a bench filled with colourful cushions. "Hello, Mihalo and Azrael. What brings you here?" She smiled a toothache sweet smile. "I was thinking of moving here," Azrael said quietly. "Really? Is there a reason?" Ari'el patted the space next to her and Azrael sat down. "It's Sophia, isn't it?" "Actually, yes," Azrael responded swiftly. "I want her to be here with me." "She talked about you the whole time you were away," Ari'el said. "She was so worried. I kind of thought you'd have that affect on a virtue." "Umm, thank you?" he began to blush. "I actually need to speak to you... In private." He looked over at Mihalo who just smiled and exited. "No one's here," she said. "Speak." "Not here. Can we go to one of the fields?" She looked at him weird and eventually agreed. As they walked out to the nearest field, Ari'el watched Azrael. He looked very much like Cassiel, but with red hair and freckles. His lips were a bit fuller than Cassiel's and he seemed even taller than Cassiel now that he came back from Gaia. "What would you like to know?" she asked as she turned and faced. He looked into the sky and licked his lips. "I have a duty that's not necessarily something I like. It's like-- being a 'birth-father' if you catch my drift." Ari'el smiled. "Welcome a Virtue's world." "It's not the same," he protested. "It is," Ari'el winked. "I know this is a test though. Cassiel and I never really loved each other until just before you were born. I haven't had to mate with any other angels after him, but I know it would've been hard. Are you willing to test your love?" "No, but I won't disobey the Creator." He realized the pain he was in probably traveled in the veins of Sophia every minute they were separated. This could ruin them. She may not hate him, but all hope would be lost. He closed his eyes. "I think I..." He abruptly stopped his sentence and looked Ari'el in her eyes. "I can't love her." Ari'el's face twisted in confusion. "Azrael, I don't think that's the answer. You can--" "I can't love her. It's not reasonable for me." Azrael knew he sounded selfish, but he knew he could never have a love like Ari'el and Cassiel's. "Or her," he added. "I can't suffer anymore." "What do you mean suffer?" Ari'el held onto one of his biceps, somewhat pinning him down. "Suffer? You'll suffer? No. Sophia will suffer and you know it. With or without you, you may ruin her. If you leave her, you will ruin her." Azrael knew Ari'el was right, but it didn't make sense to him. The emotions that ran through his veins scarred him as he foresaw the humans' deaths. He kept seeing a girl who looked similar to Sophia and obviously like Chava. She was giving birth and she died as soon as the baby was delivered. Her eyes were the exact same as Sophia's. "I'm not going to be the one that hurts her." "You won't," Ari'el soothed. "You're not like that. I had a part in creating you, you know." Azrael shook his head. He may be death personified, but he had a heart of gold. "You may stay here awhile if you like, Azrael," Ari'el continued. "But I strongly advise you to go back to Sophia." The moment Azrael reached back to Zion, he was called on by the Creator. "Azrael, I know you have doubt. I trust you'll make the right decisions, either way." Azrael didn't have enough trust in himself. He could see the Sophia look-a-like in his day dreams, dying, from god-knows-what. There was a part missing from the story of her death. At one moment she was giving birth, the next she was dead, blood covering her neck, chest and legs. He was alone once when he dreamt it and he realized he was screaming. "Death is painful. For them now, death is inevitable. You govern how, where and why they must die." The Creator's light changed, only slightly, but it was now a very light blue shade that He knew was comforting to Azrael. "I have a new weapon that represents the gathering of souls you will be doing. A reaper. They'll use them to harvest grains. They won't find it disturbing. As long as you remain invisible, there should be no problems." Azrael held out his right hand and the weapon appeared heavy, metallic and gleaming mirror-like. He could see the reflection of his sapphire eyes. They became cold, dark and angry after the year spent in Gaia. He hadn't said anything aloud since returning, fearing the wrong thing may be said. He wanted to explore his feelings for Sophia, disobey the Creator and not mate with Paris and Pharrah, and even felt the need to destroy a life. Destroying a life was not his purpose. If he followed his heart's true desire, Tyrus would have been jealous. "You may speak if you like," the Creator said. Azrael nodded, and then shook his head quickly. "Fear is not for your kind." Azrael sighed and bit his lip. "It's not that I fear to do, I fear to say." He held the reaper close to his chest. He was fond of it already. It reminded him of what he was capable of. "I'm not going to mate with Sophia. It's not the right decision, right now. I will mate with Paris and Pharrah, but I would like to request that I personally raise the children when they become close to age." "You know the reason for not mating with Sophia is not valid enough. Not being the right decision is not a reason to do so. It is not a reason, really." The Creator's light changed slightly red, irking Azrael's sanity. "You doubt yourself, Azrael. I know. I created your mind, designed your frame and know what will happen to you years from now. Your mind cannot handle the information, that is why I do not tell you." Azrael nodded. "I will not change my statement, if that's acceptable." "It is acceptable that you're being true to yourself. But are you true to Sophia as well?" The Creator knew the answer. He knew the outcome. The amount of choice that Azrael had compared to the other angels was immense. Azrael never realized it, but how could he? He had the choice of humans, years before humans had existed. As an angel, Azrael never fit in. "You should be truthful to her as well." "Should?" Azrael felt queasy. He'd never seen other angels be subject to a 'should' choice by the Creator. "I-- I don't know how to answer that." "I know." The Creator again disappeared. Azrael headed to his apartment in the north side of the city, avoiding passing through the West side of Zion, the city of Jah. That was where Sophia lived. He wished he had the courage to face her, but he felt there too many choices to handle. It was scary. Not many angels had the right to choose much other than when and where something occurred. "What's the answer?" Azrael stopped in his tracks. He knew he should've flown. It was risk... A risk he chose to take. "No answer," he said turning around. "I'm sorry Sophia. I cannot mate with you. It isn't reasonable." "Reasonable?" Sophia responded dumbly. He'd used that word to describe Tyrus' rebellion before: it wasn't reasonable for Tyrus to continue to live. Sophia felt struck down. "Does that mean I'm not worth it?" She felt like glass at the moment: fragile. "Not like that," Azrael countered. "It's more a matter of safety... For me." "Safety from what?" She was ready to cry. He rejected her for his own selfish reasons? "What could I do to you that would cause you harm? Azrael, you're being crass and selfish!" "If I explained it to you," he began, "you'd realize that what I need for me is what is best for you. I don't make my decisions off of want-based fantasies. I refuse to mate with you because of precautionary measures. I'm-- I'm sorry for leading you on." Sophia was now standing less than a foot away from Azrael. The anger in her eyes made her brown eyes dark as chestnuts. Azrael's mouth twitched and his eyebrows scrunched in. "You'll realize my intentions later on." She slapped him. Hard. "Fuck your intentions, Azrael. You wanted this to work. You wanted this as much as I did. I could see it in your eyes." A tear fell from her eye. Tears were rare in Zion and Azrael felt as if he'd be blamed for a crime of breaking hearts. "You betrayed me." Azrael's jaw tightened. Betrayal? There was no such betrayal. He saved her life. He didn't want her dead. Death was ugly. He turned and continued walking. He hadn't been to his apartment yet. The Creator made him a place to stay when he returned from Gaia. He flew to the window, refusing to walk up the stairs. It was high and the view was amazing. He could see the whole of Zion, and the cities it housed. He ran his fingers over the sheets on the bed. Paris was supposedly supposed to meet him there any minute now. She would soon be lying there, naked, willing. Lust filled Azrael's pores. He'd never thought of breeding as beautiful. He thought it a necessary evil to procreate in the angel kingdom. He pulled off his shirt. It was a thin, armour like substance. It felt like silk to the touch but could not be pierced. He marvelled at it. It was thin, kind of helpless, yet, it would not die. Azrael felt huge and ready to be broken if he couldn't handle his fate. "You know, it's kind of hard coming in when you live at the top floor," Paris said walking in. She wasn't breathless; she had angelic strength. "It took forever to get up here." She was dressed in a loose dress of sandy brown. Her blonde locks fell aimlessly around her wings of chocolate brown. She was a tanned color, only a little paler than Azrael was now. Her eyes were chocolate brown as well, giving her face only that much more depth in character. "You should have flown." Azrael smirked a little and sat on his bed. "What happens now?" He was utterly clueless. He'd watch Adom and Chava learn to procreate before they'd sinned and left the garden. He wondered if the same laws of physic applied to him. "Well, the pants come off," she said gesturing to his leggings. They were just as amorous as the shirt, so it wasn't ideal. "And then I get undressed. I will teach you. It's not hard." He felt it a bit too procedure-like and hesitated pulling his pants down. Paris noticed the hesitation and approached him seductively. Azrael didn't realize that she was only easing the process, but he almost gave up pulling his pants down to stare at her swaying hips. "I gave you an order," she whispered against his neck. Goosebumps appeared where her breath was on his neck. "Yes," he responded. He hooked his fingers into his pants and pulled them down revealing his toned naked body. She pushed him onto the bed and proceeded to undress herself. She undid the halter straps tied around her neck and let them fall. He watched as her breasts were set free from their material prison. They were firm, round and set with pink gem-like nipples that protruded from her body unlike the young Chava's. Again, he wanted to place his lips on them as if he were a baby again, needing the comfort of his mother. He reached out and grabbed them. They were softer than they looked. Paris' eyes got wide and frightened. Azrael didn't understand. It felt right. "What are you doing?" she asked hesitantly. He retracted his hands like a child and looked up at her innocently. "I thought--" "Let's try this again," she said fully pulling off her dress revealing her love apex. He'd seen breasts and vaginas before. Some angels even refused to wear clothing. This made him think of going naked as crude and leaving nothing to the imagination. She straddled his legs and then looked down confused. "You're not erect." He looked more confused, although the blood seemed to be rushing to the right place. "What?" "Your penis. It needs to be erect." She looked down and pointed at it. He took it in his hand and tried to hold it up straight, but he wasn't aroused enough. He wrapped his fingers around it and began to massage it up and down. He didn't understand, but it felt good. "What are you doing?" Paris asked again. "This isn't right." She turned and was ready to pick up her dress and leave when Azrael's black wing blocked the door. Angel of Death: Mating "No, fuck that, lady," he said heavily. "We're finishing what we started. You didn't even let me try." Paris looked down at his dick and it was erect, his fingers still wrapped around it, the purple cock head appearing from the foreskin and pre-cum dripping from the tip. Her mouth watered, but she just blinked and nodded. He pulled her back to the bed and she again straddled him. She was about to sit on his throbbing cock when he stopped her. He stared at her breast. They seemed to be silently inviting him. "May I?" he asked caressing one in his hand. She nodded and he dove to her left breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned and threw her head back, gripping his shoulders. He moved to the other breast and began sucking it, giving it as much attention as the first. He reached between her empty legs and felt her pussy. It was mostly dry. He had a strong feeling it needed to be moist to slide over his cock. He plunged two fingers into her, watching as she rode his fingers, moaning as she felt his digits within her. Azrael pumped his long fingers in and out of her as she moaned in ecstasy. "Oh my!" She exclaimed when she felt her muscles contract violently around Azrael's intruding fingers. He felt that she sopping wet now and moved onto the next stage. Azrael bit his lip and lifted her onto the tip of his throbbing cock. It was bigger than most, and he could see Paris hesitating. He pulled her down a little bit, pushing a third of his cock into her. Paris began coaching herself. She'd never felt this much ecstasy during breeding before. It felt painful, frustrating and orgasmic all at the same time. "I just need to relax," she whispered. She lowered herself a little bit more and cried out as he expanded her pussy walls. Azrael tugged her a bit lower and she moaned louder. "Just give it a second," he coaxed rubbing her round ass. He felt her muscles relax around him. "Did you cum yet?" She asked breathing hard. "What?" Azrael didn't quite understand and stroked her golden locks out of her face. "It's when your penis releases a liquid and then it isn't erect anymore," she explained as best as she could. "It's what makes me pregnant." Azrael's mouth turned into an "o" in understanding. "Not yet." "Okay," Paris gasped. "Lay me on my back." He did as she said and gravity pushed him into the hilt causing her to scream out again. "Did you cum yet?" She asked again. "No." "It's not working, I don't understand," she said groping his shoulders and arms. "Let me try something," Azrael suggested. He began to pump in and out of her slowly earning more moans and groans from the pale virtue beneath him. He was in ecstasy too, but he hid it well. He didn't like his emotions much recently, so hiding how he felt was the best alternative he could think of. He began to move faster resulting in their breath quickening to keep up. Azrael felt his cock begin throb painfully, and he could no longer hide his pleasure and began to growl into Paris' ear. "Uh, feels so good," he confessed eagerly. He began to pump harder, pushing into her till he bottomed out and pulled almost all the way out to slam back in again. "Oh, Azrael, I can't take it anymore," Paris screamed as she began to tighten around him. Azrael wasn't listening, he pummelled into her at his own desire. He pulled her left leg over his shoulder and watched as her eyes rolled back. Their skin slapped together, creating a rhythm to his madness. His cock spurred inside her, and he stilled himself as he began to spurt cum into her pussy. It seemed to go on forever as rope after rope seeped into her walls. "Did you cum?" Paris asked with a raspy voice. "Uh... yeah," Azrael replied hoarsely. He lay on top of her, his heavy body crushing her. He saw her somewhat squirm beneath his weight. "Sorry." His wings opened wide, pulling him off of her. "Are you okay?" Paris breathed heavily. She nodded and just lay there. Paris wasn't Sophia, and at that moment, it irked him. He didn't feel right. He wanted to get away from her, but he couldn't just tell her to leave; especially after this. He just stared at Paris in some odd kind of horror. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, kind of spooked by his cold eyes. "No-- sorry," he stuttered. "I'm not comfortable." Paris laughed. "There's nothing comfortable about breeding." She paused and realized she'd never done it like that. "I don't know... Why didn't you cum right when you entered me? All the other angels are quicker." Azrael shrugged and wrapped his wings around his body. "I'm not the same as them." He stared at her again. "You liked it." He was about to make a disgusted face when she did it before him. "Please," she slurred. "Whatever you did, it hurt more than--" "You loved it." Azrael's sapphire eyes pierced into hers. He was accusing her, that it was her that led him on. She brought him into a mad state where he lost himself and acted sinfully. But the problem with his resolution was that Paris was affected by Azrael's actions too. He brought lust into her eyes and made her crazy. "You did too," Paris countered. "I'm going to go." She quickly put on her dress and hurried down the stairs. Azrael moved to his bed, still covering himself with his wings. He'd never felt so tired in his life. He'd accused Paris of sinning... Like he was any better. He was fucking born with it. But he loved it. He wanted it again, but it was wrong. All of a sudden all that felt good moments ago felt wrong and irresponsible. He may have hurt her. She was crying... But in pleasure, he knew. Angel of Death: Obligation Obligation "Azrael, He has called you," Evangeline said his room door. Azrael had been recovering for about a week in the Virtue household in the city of Jah. The Creator was coaxing him out of hiding for a couple days now. Azrael hid, refusing to show as it was not required he show. "Azrael," Evangeline pressed. "Let me in, please." A few minutes passed before Azrael's door cracked open. Evangeline stepped inside and Azrael retreated to his corner, crouched low and covering his face. "You should see what He wants from you," Evangeline said finally. "Why? I know what will happen." Azrael's voice was shaky and his hands shook above his face. Things had gotten worse since he first woke. Tyrus almost severely wounded Aniel in a battle of blue blood in the sky. The city of Kings was almost ruined near the end of the battle. Tyrus was too strong. All seven of the archangels were injured, many angels suffered heavy wounds forcing the Creator to send the Seraphim in order to retrieve Tyrus. The Creator had been calling Azrael since the day he could sit up and eat. Four days ago. At first, Azrael thought one of the Apollyon demons had possessed him and was sending him threatening messages, until Persephone told him that the Creator had asked for him. "Azrael, He may need you for something really important," Evangeline confessed. "You obviously feel it's too big a duty for you, but I feel you'll do just fine." "How old am I in Gaia years?" Azrael asked meekly. "A score and eight years," she answered. "Why do you ask?" "Is that of age?" "Yes, a bit above it actually." Evangeline's eyes shone through the darkness of the room. "Is there a reason you want it dark in here?" "So I don't see myself." He looked up from between his fingers. The mirror was smashed. They would've replaced it but they realized every broken piece, large and small, was overturned to the non-reflective side. "But the mirror's gone, Azrael," Evangeline smiled at the ridiculousness of his answer. "In here they are. They're everywhere outside." His face was again covered by his hands. "You are a true coward." "No, I just don't want the responsi--" "The responsibility of what?" Evangeline was firm now. "Would you like to tell me of the responsibilities you've suddenly earned after the war?" "I haven't gotten them yet," he barely whispered. "What? I can't hear you." "I haven't gotten them yet!" "Ah. Go. Now. You no longer need to rest." Evangeline was now above him pulling him up. "Please, Evangeline!" He protested. "You haven't seen the nightmares I've had. They're horrible--" "Shut up!" Evangeline was a more serious virtue, so there was no messing with her. Azrael stood straight and exited the room in front of Evangeline. He was forced to bathe and dress. The virtues were rough with him this time. They didn't baby him as they did nearly two weeks ago, at the school. His body seemed to gain definition of all his muscles, and his tall lanky body looked much more masculine. He'd been shocked, but he felt more intimidating, despite the hiding. His skin was no longer alabaster white. It gained a strong golden tan since the accident. His light red hair was now a deep red. The fair sky blue eyes set in his head were now a deep sapphire blue. A few dozen freckles appeared on his face and shoulders. "You look different today," Sophia commented. "Uh yeah, I was almost burnt to death by an Apollyon soldier," he replied snarkily. "You're alive, so quit complaining," Sophia demanded. "I don't want to hear another word from you." Azrael and Sophia graduated together, yet she was already a bossy virtue. "Ugh," he exclaimed as she shoved a shirt over his head. "You were so nice before grad." "When you act like a baby," Sophia countered, "this is what you get." "Finally, I was beginning to think you left with Mihalo," the Creator exclaimed. Azrael stood in the throne room. "You may speak," He said once Azrael didn't speak. "You know I wouldn't leave," Azrael replied. "I was looking for a different answer. In fact, that wasn't an answer." The Creator's light shone throughout the room and Azrael could barely see anything past it. "I'm here, Father," Azrael finally spit out. He was never forced to speak to the Creator. He'd always been willing to have a talk with the Father. "You know why you're here, don't you?" The Creator asked. His light began to irritate Azrael's eyes and he looked away. "Yes," Azrael replied. His body hurt. It never felt so unbearable to be in the Creator's presence in all his nine Zion years of life. "Then do as you must." The light from the Creator was now blocked by Tyrus. Tyrus shone a gloomy red with an evil animalistic grin on his face. The Apollyon stood to the side, their armour huge and ugly. They were giants compared to many angels and virtues. Azrael was shaking as the Creator spoke. "You've made yourself a monster, Tyrus," the Creator bellowed. "I will destroy you. Eventually. As of now, you and your minions are banished from Zion. The Angel of Death will be the end of you. Leave, now!" Tyrus walked towards Azrael, his jewel coloured eyes looking through him. The ruby red eyes shone with black tears, his mad-looking grin still in place. Tyrus passed him, staring him down as he did and left through one of the twelve pearl gates. Azrael watched as he fell from the edge of the golden glassy streets which ended outside Zion. Looking back towards the Creator, but not directly, Azrael noticed other angels staring at him. "Azrael," The Creator spoke smoothly. "You are young, yet you have the heart of a warrior. But, in you I have created a power beyond what I would have liked to place in an angel. You will become the eighth archangel." Azrael's eyes widened as the other angels and virtues whispered. "Azrael, you are--" "No, no, no, no, no," Azrael began to weep. He knew the words that would come out next. How could he be such a thing? He dropped to his knees, quietly begging the Creator to change his mind. "--The Angel of Death." Azrael screamed out. This time, it was not out of frustration. It was out of sheer pain and shock. Ancient tribal markings began to trace his skin, burning every inch it touched. His wings of orange-red shook in pain as the red feathers began to violently drop, inky, raven black plumes replacing them quickly. His fingers were attempting to dig into the golden glassy ground, almost bleeding. No one ran to comfort him. No one said anything was going to be okay. No one did anything. "Azrael," the Creator bellowed from the throne. "You know what you are." Angel of Death: The Release & Zebul The Release "You leave today," the Creator spoke. "You are his tormentor. You were created this way, Azrael. Sin resides in you. Always has." "I don't believe that," Azrael whispered. He was huddling behind his wings in his room back at the Virtue household. He refused to leave, refusing drink or eat. He especially detested light. "I wasn't bad." "You're not bad, Azrael. Sin resides in you for a special purpose. It's the only thing that will let you see the way a human will die, the only way to continue being uncorrupted around Tyrus. You are the judge of where their fate is." The Creator's light shone so brightly, Azrael had to close his eyes even if they were covered by the thick black curtain that were now his wings. "You are stronger than the other archangels. You just don't understand the power you have." "I don't want to be the punisher," Azrael whined. "I didn't ask for this." "You wanted to fight, Azrael. I know all, I see all. You were the only one worthy of being the Angel of Death." "It's not the same." "Mihalo and the others are waiting for you," the Creator interrupted. Azrael slowly stood, his body weak from his refusals. He exited the room and the Creator disappeared. In the main hallway, the seven archangels stood waiting. "Seven days? Really?" Cassiel bellowed angrily. "How dare you refuse the Creator in the first place?!" Azrael backed away from the advancing archangel. Cassiel was probably the strongest out of the seven. Samiel and Sachiel exchanged looks and moved to block Cassiel from moving further toward the young archangel. "I should tear your wings off your body!" Cassiel screamed from behind the twins' blonde and black heads. "Silence, Cassiel," Gabriel finally spoke. "Azrael, you must be trained." "What can you teach me that will control the touch of death?" Azrael spat out. "Huh?! Are you stuck where the others won't touch you for fear they'd never see another day in Zion? Have you?!" "Yes," Mihalo spoke solemnly. "You often looked at us that way, Azrael. I never understood why." Azrael stared at Mihalo. His dark skin glowed golden brown and his hair was always shorn short. His wings were white and contrasted his skin. He was definitely admired among the angels. Kindness seeped from his pores. "Now I do," Mihalo continued. "Do you know how crucial you are to destroying Tyrus?" "What do I have to do with him?" Azrael asked. "You will be there," Gabriel began to speak, "whenever someone attempts to kill another under unjustifiable circumstances. He will speak to them, torment. You govern him." "Why couldn't one of you do it?" Azrael refused to believe he was the only one. "You were born with sin, punk," Cassiel stated. Azrael was furious. There had to be another way. Cassiel's dark blue eyes stared into him. Azrael couldn't help himself. He lunged towards Cassiel, wrapping his fingers around his throat. "Let him go, Azrael!" Raphael yelled. Cassiel's face was turning pale. Cassiel wasn't fighting back... Samiel tackled Azrael and quickly kept from touching his fingers. "Don't touch him," Samiel said to the others. Cassiel fell to the ground shaking and gasping for air. His veins seemed to rise to the surface bulging out of his neck. Raphael pressed his hands against Cassiel's chest, sending a bright light through him. Cassiel stopped shaking; his eyes stopped rolling back into his head. He just lay there... Like death. "Azrael," Mihalo finally said. "You could have killed him. Killing someone out of anger is unjustifiable..." Mihalo stood next to Azrael. He seemed to be Azrael's only support. "Your fingers are poison, Azrael," Mihalo explained. "Hopefully you will learn control it in time." Azrael walked past the others out into the street. The archangels, excluding Raphael and Cassiel, followed him. He spread his black wings and took off. "Where is he going?" Aniel asked just before Gabriel, the twins and Mihalo took flight. "I don't know," Gabriel confessed. "Soph," Azrael said into the door. "Open up. It's Azrael." Silence continued to torture his ears. "Please, Sophia." Ten minutes passed before the door opened. Sophia's light brown wings shielded her from looking at him. She retreated into the house and settled in a seat by the window, her right wing still blocking her from Azrael. "You knew," Azrael whispered. "I thought we were friends!" "We are." Sophia's wing finally folded behind her. "Azrael, you know He made you like this before Tyrus began tormenting Zion. You were going be the death-bringer among the humans if they sinned." "What if they don't sin?" Azrael asked. He closed the distance between the. His eyes shone with tears. He'd never been upset; it had been getting to him. "Why am I sad all the time?" "If they don't, then you destroy Tyrus," Sophia responded. She paused as tear rolled out his eye. She bit her lip and sighed wiping the tear away. "You're sad because you know there's not a thing you can do to keep from being like this, Azrael. Sin is a sad thing, too. This was destined, though. You've always been the one to disrespect the Virtue teachers and look at the archangels as if they were about to kill someone." "No! I never looked at them like that," Azrael countered. "I thought they could kill." "You didn't even know what death was until a couple of weeks ago in the war. None of us did." Sophia's voice was level and hadn't changed tone since Azrael entered. "Sophia, everyone knows what death is--" "No. Not one angel even died in that war, Azrael." She paused as the information sunk in, his mouth hanging slightly open. "Do you know why you look a bit different than the rest of us? Do you know?" "Why?" Azrael sat down and decided there was nothing left to do. There was no turning back. "The humans have red hair," Sophia said smiling. "But skin like Gabriel's." "They look like us?" Azrael asked looking up. "Not quite. They have no belly buttons," Sophia explained. "Like the archangels. You're the only archangel born of a virtue and an angel." "Who were my parents," Azrael demanded, "since you know everything about me." Sophia bit her lip. "Azrael, you know there are only three birth mothers." "Just tell me please," Azrael requested. "Ari'el," she replied quietly. "She's the strongest of the Virtues. And, you're going to hate me for telling you who your father is." "Tell me," he pressed. "I need to know." Sophia twiddled her thumbs for a while before answering. "You're gonna hate me." "No I won't." "Yes you will. You won't believe me." "Just please, say it." "Cassiel." Sophia's wings shielded her again. She was ashamed that she was the one to tell him. No one had told him. "What?" Azrael croaked. "No. I don't believe you. He couldn't father me. Only--" "The Creator knew that Cassiel was the strongest archangel; Ari'el the strongest virtue. It was meant to be." Sophia's voice had become tiny and barely audible. "I'm sorry." "He hates me," Azrael whined. "He hates me!" "No he doesn't. He may be jealous." "Sure! Like threatening to tear my wings off isn't hate!" Azrael stood now, his face turning red from all the emotion running through his veins. "You're stronger than him," Sophia blurted out. "No I'm not." "Yes you are." "The fucking 'angel of temperance' cannot be my father. The Creator doesn't allow archangels to bear children." Azrael's eyes looked maddening. This was ruining him. "I'm--I'm not... supposed to be here. The Creator doesn't break his own rules!" "The rules were for us not Him." Sophia stood and confronted Azrael. "You are beautiful. Whatever the Father creates is beautiful." "Then what the fuck happened to Tyrus? Huh?!" Azrael blocked Sophia from coming closer by raising his wings. "There's no way God would create a mad creature." Sophia placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him to her. He resisted, but he wanted so badly to feel comforted, he let her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into his chest. "You're not mad." He wrapped his arms around her bare waist. "Ouch," she said wincing. Azrael quickly let her go. "What was that?" "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I have to control my fingers." She gave him a weird look. "They're poisonous now." She nodded and pulled him back into the embrace. He put his hands lower, onto her butt so the cloth blocked his fingers. "You don't believe me, do you? You're not mad, Azrael." Azrael's lips formed a tight line. Sophia smiled. "I've thought I was for the past seven days at least." She leaned up and let her lips graze his. He leaned into her, letting his lips capture hers and felt a tingle all over. His hands moved up from her butt to her back and she didn't flinch. He didn't manage to hurt her this time. They heard a knock on the door and quickly let each other go. Azrael smoothed out her clothing wanting to touch her more. He stared into her intense dark eyes once more and turned to the door. "Azrael, come out," Mihalo said from behind the door. "I know you know. Let me explain it to you." "No need." Azrael opened the door and walked past all seven of the archangels. Cassiel was the last one he passed. Azrael stared into Cassiel's sapphire eyes. They were exactly like his but Cassiel's cool earth brown hair created a cold ice-like affect. "Don't ever speak to me again." Azrael walked silently towards the throne room, ignoring the seven powerful angels following him. Entering the throne room, Azrael noticed Omniel kneeling before the Creator. "You may go, Omniel," the Creator said. Omniel quickly exited, avoiding Azrael as best he could. Some friend, thought Azrael. "Azrael, you are welcome." "Can I speak to the Thrones?" Azrael asked. "It depends. What are you asking of them?" The Creator revealed the five thrones surrounding his. Orfiel, Japhakiel, Raziel, Baradiel and Zaphkiel appeared in the seats. "What may I do on Gaia?" Azrael looked at each and every one of them. He had no more fear. "You may justify the death of a human," Orfiel spoke. "You may not befriend them. You may protect them from an Apollyon demon if they do not invite one in. You may bring a human back from the dead if they were unjustifiably killed. You govern Tyrus and restrict how he may go about tempting the humans." "Who are my accompaniments?" "The Grigori: Sariel, Azazel, Araqiel, Shamsiel, and Penemue. They are cast out of heaven for their roles in the War. They now serve you," Raziel bellowed throughout the room. "Thank you." Azrael bowed his head and left the throne room. "Why is he asking such things?" Mihalo asked the Creator. "He is scared. Escort him to Gaia please. Cassiel, you stay with me." Cassiel looked at the Creator, then at Gabriel, his eyes pleading. "I think they'll need me, Father," Cassiel protested. "No, they won't. You know they won't." "But, Father! I am the strongest--" "Not anymore. They have Azrael." Cassiel was fuming. It wasn't fair. If Azrael turned on them, he could kill them all and Cassiel wouldn't be there to protect them. "He won't hurt them. But he will hurt you," the Creator said through his thoughts. "Creator, why am I his father? Why do his eyes have to resemble mine?" Cassiel almost shook with distaste. "Why pair me with Ari'el? She didn't want this either." "You and Ari'el have loved each other for some time. I know; I created you." The throne room began to empty. "Lord, Ari'el didn't love me. She admired me. There's a difference. I know it." "Then why did you lay with her even after I gave you the choice not to?" "Choice? I had a choice? Angels have a choice?" Cassiel's wings folded meekly behind him. "The Angel of Death was my choice?" "I knew you would choose to do it. But I did give you a choice. I said, 'you may lay with Ari'el.' 'May' not 'have to'. But it works well in my favour. You could have not lain with her and the Angel of Death still would have been created. If I plan to create something, it will be created, whether it's through my subjects or through me, Cassiel." The all-seeing deity left Cassiel standing there. "You'll know what to do," Gabriel said to Azrael. "So far, there's only one earthly place in this galaxy; only one path to get there." Azrael stood, back to the other archangels. He couldn't face him. He would now face death and the possibilities of it. None of them will confront death the way he would. Never. He jumped, diving into the vortex leading to Gaia. The others followed. Zebulon "Cassiel?" Aniel called throughout the great hall. "Where are you?" Cassiel sat near the window, the light of God seeping through the curtains. He was naked. "You should go, Cassiel," Ari'el whispered. "Should. I should. I don't want to." Cassiel stood and walked over to where Ari'el was laying down. He smoothed out the sheets before he crawled on the bed. "Why don't you love me the way I love you?" Ari'el looked away. Her curly black hair swished as she moved, her mocha skin glowed from beneath her burgundy wings. "I love you." "No you don't. Not the way I love you." Cassiel ran his fingers over her feathered wings. "I do. I just--" Ari'el looked up at Cassiel. She couldn't finish the sentence. Angels were not made to love... At least that's what she thought. "What is love exactly?" "I don't know much about love, but I know it means that nothing exists without it." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. He stood and put on his clothing. He was about to head out the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think I could exist without you, Cassiel," Ari'el whispered. He turned around and engulfed her with his navy blue wings. She tiptoed and kissed him lightly on his lips. "I think I love you." Cassiel gave her a small smile and left. "Where were you," Raphael asked when the seven elder archangels sat at the tree of life. "Home," Cassiel answered running his hands through the water running between through the middle of the tree. Gabriel looked up from a message he was writing. "What did you say?" "I said I was home," Cassiel said without looking up. "No you weren't," Gabriel argued. "We looked for you there. You weren't there. Not at your home, at least." Cassiel finally looked up into Gabriel's golden eyes. "Why are you making these insinuating comments? Does it matter, really?" Gabriel decided not to argue and returned to his scroll. Sachiel, the blonde twin looked at Cassiel and threw him a fruit from the tree. "Looks like you've been eating from a forbidden tree," he said jokingly. "Don't say that. It was never actually forbidden," Cassiel countered. "The Creator made Chava in her image," Samiel put in. "She's pretty damn important if you ask me." "Whatever." Cassiel bit into the fruit. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It was perfect as everything in Zion is. "Cassiel," the Creator called. "Please meet with me in the throne room." Cassiel rose and began walking away from the others. Mihalo was napping, so he was the only one oblivious to Cassiel's exit. "Where are you going?" Aniel asked. "To see the Creator," Cassiel replied. "Okay," Aniel responded coolly. "When are you going to ask him of a union between you and Ari'el?" "Now, maybe." Cassiel watched as Gabriel's writing became more furious. "Is there a problem, Gabriel?" "Not yet." Gabriel rose and walked off in the other direction. Cassiel gave Aniel a troubling look. "He has a thing for the other birth mother, Paris." Aniel chuckled. "He's the fucking messenger and never asks the Creator for anything. You're smarter than he is." Cassiel smiled and went to the throne room. He'd seen so much of it often that he almost thought he lived there. "Welcome, Cassiel," the Creator greeted. "You want something, and I'm ready to give it to you. I feel it is something you need. But first, big news." "News?" Cassiel knit his brows. "From what? Gaia?" "No. From Ari'el," the Creator replied. "She's pregnant again." "Really?" He wondered if he was the father. He'd been sleeping with her more often lately. "Yes. It's yours." There was a long pause. Cassiel was wondering about the other reason he was there. "You may be unified with Ari'el, if you wish. A middleworld: Zebul. It was the Spirit's idea. She--" he chuckled, "I believe you should have your own world. If you'd like the responsibility of ruling it, it is yours. But, you still answer to me as a leeway to Zion." Cassiel gasped. He bowed quickly and stood just as quickly. "Thank you, Father. Thank you, thank you!" He was all smiles. "Umm, about Ari'el and I; how would we be unified?" "There in Zebul. The Spirit will unify you, so it's legitimate." Joy shone from the Creator's light. He loved seeing His creations joyous. "What about my duty?" Cassiel said suddenly. It never crossed his mind. "The other archangels will be with you. You won't need to worry about not being near them." "Will they get a partner too?" Cassiel remembered Gabriel's jealousy towards him earlier. "If they ask, they will receive. You've asked many times. You have received." Cassiel smiled gingerly. Finally Gabriel would stop being so anal about him and Ari'el. "You may go. Oh, and tell Gabriel to be patient." Angel of Death: The War The War "He's got to die," Azrael whispered. He was stuck in a crushed building near the foundation with another messenger. "Cassiel, can you hear me?" "Shut your fucking mouth, Azrael," he hissed back. "You'll get us killed." A light passed through a crack above them. Azrael closed his eyes, praying that the Apollyon missed him and Cassiel. "Cassiel?" a voice called from above. "Is that you?" "Gabriel," Cassiel beamed. "I'm stuck under a stone." "Alright, we'll get you out," Gabriel responded. "Who are you with?" "Azrael." Cassiel's voice was laced with disgust. "Oh. Hello, Azrael," Gabriel greeted haphazardly. "Hi, Gabriel." Azrael crouched lower. Gabriel was one of the seven archangels. So were Cassiel, Raphael, Aniel, Mihalo, Samiel and Sachiel the twins. They were known to look down on the angels as they were obviously more powerful. The boulder flew from above them, releasing Cassiel from his stony prison. "Thanks, Gabe." Azrael slowly climbed out behind Cassiel, looking at the archangels. All of them looked like Gods, their wings folded behind them and their armour a deep blue. Azrael casted his eyes down in respect although somewhat reluctantly. "How in God's name did you get out here, Azrael? This is not your war," Raphael scolded. Azrael continued staring at the floor. He couldn't answer. Not yet. "Speak," Raphael commanded. "I--" he almost choked on his words. He turned red in embarrassment. "I wanted to... fight with you and the others." "Hey Sachiel," Samiel called. "He's turning red just like his hair!" Sachiel laughed and punched Samiel. "Actually, I think he likes you, bro." "Go back to the East," Mihalo directed softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He is known as the kindest of the archangels. "Yes," Azrael replied. He was about to take flight, his orange-red wings spreading quickly-- a whirring scream sounded and the sky was lit brightly. "Mihalo!" Gabriel called. Azrael felt a harsh sting of pain on his cheek, and then his eyesight went black. The Reckoning "Azrael," Mihalo whispered in his ear. "Azrael, wake up." Evangeline wiped a cold rag across his forehead. "Darling, wake up." Azrael could hear them, but he couldn't respond. He was stuck staring at the Throne of the Creator in his dreams. The light from the Creator was blocked by Tyrus. Tyrus shone a gloomy red with an evil animalistic grin on his face. The Apollyon stood to the side, their armour huge and ugly. They were giants compared to many angels and virtues. Azrael was shaking as the Creator spoke. "You've made yourself a monster, Tyrus," the Creator bellowed. "I will destroy you. Eventually. As of now, you and your minions are banished from Zion. The Angel of Death will be the end of you. Leave, now!" Tyrus walked towards Azrael, his jewel coloured eyes looking through him. Tyrus passed him, staring him down as he did and left through one of the twelve pearl gates. Azrael watched as he fell from the edge of the golden glassy streets which ended outside Zion. Looking back towards the Creator, but not directly, Azrael noticed other angels staring at him. "Azrael," The Creator spoke smoothly. "You are young, yet you have the heart of a warrior. But, in you I have created a power beyond what I would have liked to place in an angel. You will become the eighth archangel." Azrael's eyes widened as the other angels and virtues whispered. "Azrael! Please wake up!" Zipporah screamed. Azrael's eyes flew open. His mouth tasted of sand. He swallowed painfully. His skinny chest heaved over in pain, now that he was aware of it. "Water," he whispered hoarsely. Persephone handed Zipporah a cup of water. It sparkled brightly as it dribbled from his lips. He could barely open his mouth. "Careful, Azrael," Evangeline said. "Your jaw was broken by an Apollyon." Azrael squeezed his eyes closed, tears of the pain falling from his eyes. Zipporah placed a pen in his hand and a paper beside him. Azrael reached over and wrote slowly and weakly. "'Where's Mihalo?'" Zipporah read aloud. "He left about a day ago, Azrael." Azrael scribbled again on the paper sloppily. "'Why?'" Zipporah sighed sadly. "The archangels went to speak with Adom and Chava. The Creator is sending Tyrus to Gaia." Azrael's eyes widened. "To test the humans," Persephone added quickly. Azrael relaxed, lying back down. Everything would be okay. The war was almost over and Tyrus and the Apollyon would soon be gone. His eyes fluttered close, but as soon as they shut, the scene played again.