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"The Beginning of the End of the Beginning" |
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Darkness... it cries to me. It fills me, but even it's misery is cowed by my raging fury. The demons of Hell hide in their holes. In the Human realm, the world screams in fear as my power eclipses the very sun. My sister and Brothers wait a bit behind me, even they are afraid.
For I am Death, and I have nothing left to do but destroy.
I lift my blade, the one that cuts the threads, that harvests the souls... and it now will fulfill a new use. It will slay my former 'family', my so called 'friends' the Angels of Heaven. My brethren come to stand next to me, War calls her armies, Pest brings forth his disease, and Famine holds the hunger around him like my Cloak around myself. And I? Do I summon my hordes of the Dead? The Souls that reside in all realms? No. I ride forward, The End made Flesh, and veiw the gates of the place that I called home for so long. No longer sparkling pearl, lined with the purest gold. It shines dully, or perhaps that is only my opinion, A being that instead of holding a job, has become it. I raise my hand to touch the door, and it is obliterated by my lashing powers. Mortis and I ride forward, the Armies of heaven visible before us, but its generals nowhere to be seen.
I Call forward War, and she cowers and meekly comes forth.
"Kill them all." I intone, my voice hollow to my own ears. She turns a bit pale, but in a few minutes her soldiers rush forward to hack the beings apart. They were warriors of God, but my Sisters troops had the ferocity of ten of them, and the strenght of six. A few were lost, but they fell like wheat as I rode by.
Reaching the gate of the second ring, Gabriel's ring, I dismount, casting aside the Cloak that marks me as one of them, the White no longer fitting for a creature such as I, whose heart runs no longer with Ichor or Compassion, but Rage and Ice, who'se very breath is Death.
Heavenly Commanders guard the gate, and attempt to impede my progress: I show them what my journey gained me. thirteen millenia of battle experience, six hundred years of demonic power, and celestial training, mixed with powers purely my own since my creation.
Little remains but dust.
Drawing a blade, one that 'She' gave me shortly before... my fall... I step forward and see Gabriel. A bystander, but one that is more of a an impediment than the weaklings behind me. He seeks to reason, but I dont give a chance for him to speak. I walk ahead as he attempts to keep his organs in his body.
"I have an appointement with Mikey, Gabe. I dont want to keep him waiting.
A few more angels attempt to impede my way, hundreds of Seraph, I simply kill them en masse. My wings are featherless now, shredded by some seraph's angelic fire, but all they did was lighten my load, and I cover myself in a Ichor stained cloak.
Uriel's enforcers, they dress in black, a much more fitting color for the funeral pyre this land will be at the end of my quest. I reach her 'Court', a gigantic library of sorts. She stands there, ready to do battle, and my mind goes back to how I used to think of her.
And then I dismember her with a gesture.
 Azzy Rael · Fri Aug 28, 2009 @ 01:24am · 0 Comments |
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