Cloaked Archangel

Asael stood before his army of demons and giants. A great task stood before them according to their master. He had planned they take on the angelic host and overthrow the divine itself. As the archon of the watchers made his speech before his vile host the darkest of clouds gathered above them, and the world had stood still as if the end of days was upon them.

For them, the end of days had come indeed.

The demon lord was about to end his rallying speech when a thunderclap cracked through the sky. A flesh of pure white light exploded in front of the demons, temporarily stunning and blinding them. A figure stood in front of Asael once the light had dissipated.

A man clad in a simple cloak clutching a staff stood there promoting the demons to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Who are you, old man?” one demon barked at the mysterious figure.

The man’s eyes flashed with a bright spark like brimstone in the Tartaros and the demon’s breathing became labored. The beast clutched its throat, gasping frantically for air, but no respite came. It collapsed on the floor and chocked on its own tongue.

The demonic horde roared in disgust at their fallen comrade. Asael’s gaze shifted to the ground. Shaking his head in disbelief, he tried as best as he could, to deny the sight before him. He tried his damned to deny the existence of the being before him.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day one of the Seven would leave the Silver City.”

The demons all gasped in unison. For them, the Seven were merely a myth. None had seen those angelic beings in eons. They were there at the beginning of time. These were the first in creation!

The holiest of holy!

Second to the divine itself!

The governors of the Universe!

The seven Archangels.

The cloaked being chuckled to itself.

One demon gathered the nerve to call at the angel before him, “Uriel, is it not?”

“No flaming blade…” the cloaked being cackled almost gleefully.

“No…” Asael said in a hushed tone. “This is, this is…”

Suddenly he couldn’t speak anymore, Asael’s throat became stiff, his eyes widened in fear as he grasped at his throat. His throat became increasingly swollen, and no sound came out. It was beginning to burn; as if a thousand suns had exploded inside of it. Asael fell to his knees as the pain engulfed his body; inch by inch.

“You do not get to speak my name anymore, younger brother.”, the archangel said as he raised his staff into the air.

The demonic hordes stood there in complete awe of their king, nay, their god collapsed on his knees begging for air.

Rain began to fall upon the earth as the archangel addressed the hordes of fallen angels and giants before him. A tint of regret was auditable in his voice as he spoke these words, “Forgive me my younger brothers, forgive me children of Adam, but you’ve corrupted my father’s garden for long enough. I must… End you. Please do not look at my wings.”

The archangel beat his staff into the ground, and a bright light exploded from his body. Electric currents in all sorts of colors sprouted from his back to encompass the whole mountain upon which the hordes stood. The currents formed the shape of avian wings.

The demonic hordes did not heed the archangel’s warnings and thus, a great many of them burned to ashes from within, unleashing horrible cries of agony the world has yet to have heard before.

The land shook as the giants crumbled upon it.

Those who dared to look at the archangel’s wings were consumed by a rage, one that they have yet to feel the likes of before, nor have any living beings felt ever since. They were driven to the brink of insanity by their all-consuming wrath. They were possessed, trembling with hate.

They attacked the first they saw.

They slaughtered.

They obliterated.

They tore a limb from limb.

They pulled out guts and organs.

They spilled rivers of blood and gore.

They had slain until there is nothing left standing.

They were not unlike rabid beasts.

They were forced into ending each other as the Archangel stood there, watching.

Once the demons and the giants have mangled each other and their souls have descended into the depths of the Sheol for eternal damnation, the archangel made his way towards the now motionless Asael and his wings wrapped themselves in the form of chains around the fallen angel. The archangel picked up the now pathetic excuse of a watcher from the ground and slammed his staff once more, and the land beneath him crackled.

The earth moaned as a cavity tore itself open in its crust at the command of the Archangel’s staff. The garden of God himself heeded the commands of the Archangel.

And in between the cracks lay a pit; one where there was no bottom. An abyss, not unlike the primordial void. The Archangel dropped Asael into the abyss and as the rebellious watcher fell, the Archangel proclaimed, without a tint of sorrow in his tone; “From henceforth you shall be known as Azazel, the arch-devil, and you shall be bound in the abyss that is Dudael. You shall be bound in the abyss until the ends of time until your final judgment comes. Remember my name, brother, I am, Raphael.”

And Azazel, he could only watch the archangel. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t resist, he couldn’t plead. He could only watch with tears streaming down his cheeks as he fell into the endless cavity while everything around turned increasingly dark.

Azazel’s throat finally relented. He finally managed to let out a cry, a meek one at that. It was too late, however.

For Azazel, everything faded to black.