All the angels present set their eyes on me.
“And how, Gabriel, do you know?” she asked.
I told her about my encounter in the Sanctuary of Music, how I presumed Araziel was the one who stole the book and the Castle Key since he was talking to someone about stealing the scepter. At the mention of his name, the angel tried to hide among the masses of insurgents, but not before Seraphiel spotted him. She signaled one of the loyal Seraphim to retrieve him. Tired of fighting, the insurgents gave up Araziel in the hopes of sparing themselves.
“Gabriel says you stole the objects. Where are they?” Seraphiel asked.
“The book is in the Sanctuary of Music, in my instrument cabinet. As for the Castle Key, I used it to open the tower door,” Araziel confessed.
“And where is it now?” she demanded.
He fidgeted as his nerves got the best of him. I noticed he was gripping something in his hand.
“Araziel, give it to her,” I said.
Seraphiel saw my gaze rooted to his hand, so she grabbed at it and forcibly pried the Castle Key out. She handed it over to one of her comrades.
“Take this to the Forge. It must be destroyed immediately.”
The other angel took the key and retreated to the castle, where the Forge was located.
Thinking the interrogation was over, Araziel relaxed considerably—until Seraphiel set her sights on him once more.
“Gabriel said you were speaking to someone about the objects. Who was it?”
“Why…Samael, of course,” he said.
Samael opened his mouth to protest, but I spoke before he could.
“That is not true. I am positive the voice was distinctly feminine.”
Seraphiel looked at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, without a doubt.”
She glared at Araziel. “Who was with you?”
He squirmed and hesitated, but his fear got the best of him. “Gabriel is right. It was a female. Her name is L—” He did not have a chance to finish as an arrow struck him in the chest. His body convulsed, and he struggled to breathe.
There was only one explanation for such a reaction. The arrowhead was poisoned.
Before any angels of healing could react, a burst of light flashed, and Araziel disappeared. This was what happened when an angel perished. Our energy receded into the universe in either a sudden flash or a gradual fade depending on the injury.
Alarmed by the attack and the tragic conclusion, everyone went on high alert again, eyes peering over the battlefield in search of the assassin.
“Find whoever did that,” Seraphiel ordered.
Members of her rank took to the air and chased after the mysterious assailant. With tensions rising, Seraphiel turned to Samael. She analyzed his figure.
“Where is it?”
Confused, Samael said, “What?”
“Your key. The one for the council room.”
He remained silent.
“Do not make this worse than it already is. Tell me!”
He simply looked at her with a defiant air.
Before she could say or do anything, Michael released Samael and grabbed at his neck, latching onto a chain Samael wore and giving the necklace a rough yank. It broke away. Michael held the chain up, showing the key hanging on it.
Seraphiel took the necklace out of Michael’s hand and led Samael to the barrier, but not before Samael glanced one last time at Michael. The look went beyond betrayal. Now, it was full of a violent hunger for revenge, as Michael’s act put Samael in a vulnerable, inferior position.
We all knew that Samael hated to be powerless.
Before Samael was secured inside the barrier, Seraphiel cut his bindings. Then, she forced him inside, and the apprehension finally began to dissipate. The two angels who chased after the assailant came back with a female rebel who had fled the battle. None of us recognized her, but she was hastily escorted to the barrier, the distaste toward her palpable. The Seraphim angels rejoined the First Choir, and we all stood there waiting for something to happen.
None of us expected the loud crack that pierced the air. Nor did we expect the thunderous shaking that ensued. With a blast, a large void opened up directly beneath the barrier and consumed the rebel forces.
In the blink of an eye, our rogue brothers and sisters were gone.
10
Satan
Hell, In the Beginning
We fell for nine days in a constant state of agony. When we finally struck the end of our fall, the moans of the fallen sliced through the cold air.
Confusion and discomfort marred my comrades’ faces as they absorbed their unfamiliar surroundings. They did not stir or move because none of them knew what to do. They were frightened and sore from the violent landing.
But their anguish was nothing compared to mine.
My screams tore through the dark, causing the others to cower in fear at my palpable fury. I shrieked in unbearable pain on the stone floor, a slick sweat covering my body and chilling me to the bone. My once beautiful wings were burnt, immobile, and lay useless at my sides. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and the gritty taste of putrid smoke overcame me.
This dismal place was my new kingdom.
This dismal place was Hell.
I attempted to move, and at the slightest motion, my entire body erupted in pain. I cried out and twisted my head. Lying face-up, I tried to assess my condition.
My torso was bare, and so too were my feet and both legs. My body was damp with sweat and blackened by soot. There was a constant pain rooted in the center of my back where my wings sprouted out from my body. They must have taken most of the damage. It was impossible to control our fall, and there was no way to protect them from the raging fire and snapping wind.
We had dropped from Heaven in a fiery blaze that landed us here. The fire still burned around me even though it was freezing. I was breathing in ragged gasps and saw my breath in front of my face.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wished this was some temporary nightmare, not my permanent reality. These feelings of self-pity were soon replaced with anger, and I pounded my fist upon the floor. Once more, I screamed, but this time with rage. I hated that I could not move. I hated the pain that seared through my entire body. I hated how weak I felt.
I refused to yield to the rage.
Instead, I sought control.
I opened my eyes to view my surroundings. It seemed I was alone. I could hear the moans of my fallen forces, yet they seemed distant and far off. The fact I was in a cave-like space made me doubt my perception of sound. Everything echoed around me, especially my screams.
I knew I had to get up, to take charge, but it was difficult to muster the nerve and to overcome the pain. My last moments in Heaven had happened so quickly they had left me with an unsettling realization.
I could never return.
The thought struck me with great fear. Heaven was my home, and it had been stripped away from me in an instant. My comrades had turned against me. My closest brothers had turned against me. Michael had turned against me.
I slammed my hands upon the ground again as I thought about his betrayal. Pain erupted from the action, radiating up my arms and infusing my entire body with its ache. I screamed. Not only from the pain of my predicament, but from the duplicity in Heaven and the magnitude of everything I had lost.
With my hands still curled into fists, I rolled my head back and forth on the cold ground, numbing myself to the ache, and considered what to do next. This place could never become Heaven, but perhaps it could resemble it in certain ways. I had to make it my new home. But what could it become? How would I transform a world so atrocious into something meaningful?
First, I needed to overcome my punishment. If I ignored it and acted like the pain did not exist, I could get up.
With this mindset, I abruptly tried to stand.
In seconds, the agony was insurmountable, and I soon found myself on the stone floor again, this time on my side and crawli
ng into a fetal position. I gave myself a few moments to let the pain settle. Clearly, I was too ambitious.
If—when—I regained control, a new order would need to be implemented…a hierarchy of sorts, one I had command over. This would give me everything I wanted: power, control, and a kingdom that resembled what had been stolen from me.
A stabbing pain erupted throughout my body, interrupting my thoughts of the future. I succumbed to it and lay upon the ground, immobile. All I could do was close my eyes and yield to my punishment, find solace in the emptiness within.
It felt like days passed as I lay there. I knew this had to end.
Placing my hands flat on the ground, I braced myself and slowly raised my torso, biting back the ache. I moved one knee, then the next, and became lost in cries of anguish.
I remained in that position, on all fours, for quite some time. Stealing a glance over my shoulder at my wings, I just as quickly looked away. The sight of them repulsed me, made me sick, because I was not certain I would ever be able to use them again.
Forcing those thoughts from my mind, I concentrated on the task at hand and placed one foot flat on the ground. My back spasmed at the pain, and my roars of anguish filled the air again. Breathing heavily, I braced for the next foot when I heard laughter.
Anger flared inside me like a red blaze.
“My, my, what a sight this is…” a female voice said.
“Leave me alone,” I growled, clearly in a position that did not command the bravado I desired.
When no response came, I resumed my attempt, thinking the unknown female had left.
A hard kick to my back alerted me she had not. Her action sent me collapsing to the ground once more in paralyzing pain. I was again incapacitated, screaming pathetically.
“You are not what I thought you were,” she continued, drawing near to my limp body.
I rolled onto my back to face her, but she stayed in the shadows. I could not find the words to speak, so she persisted with her demoralizing words, letting them drip over me.
“So pitiful, incapable, and weak.” She lingered on the last word, knowing it would terrorize me.
“I am not weak,” I groaned.
Then, her figure appeared before me as she knelt beside my face. She forcibly grabbed my chin with her gloved hand and said, “You most certainly are.”
I jerked my face away, ignoring the twinge of discomfort, and demanded, “Who are you?”
“You don't remember me?”
I squinted through the dark. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to see she had long black hair. It was hard to recognize her because she was dressed in an entirely black dress, scorched in places from the fire during our fall. The high neckline remained intact. However, the hem of her dress had been burned, exposing her bare feet and ankles. It was long-sleeved, though the right sleeve was torn, and the left had completely disappeared.
A glint of metal drew my attention to her left hand. It seemed she wore some type of jewelry, perhaps a ring, but it was impossible to see exactly what since she had on black gloves that camouflaged her fingers. A battered pouch hung from the belt around her waist, the leather gleaming in the shadows.
Her face was the only thing I could distinguish. Her skin was pale and it shone through the dark. She had an angular jawline and hollow cheekbones, but most remarkable were her eyes, an unnatural mix of brown, green, and a hint of blue.
Those eyes seemed familiar.
At my blank expression, she smiled. Grasping my hand, she raised it to her mouth and playfully bit one of my fingers. All at once, I knew why those eyes were so familiar.
Dismayed, I pulled my hand from her grasp, ignoring the dull pain.
“You,” I said.
She laughed at my outrage and shock.
“How is this possible? You were a snake.”
“Oh, honey,” she teased, rising from the ground. “I’m always a snake.”
“You know what I mean!” I snapped, confused and angry.
“Oh, please, you are unbearable. Yes, I was a snake physically when you stumbled upon me in Eden. I was doomed to that form forever…until you came along. When you cut me with your blade, you freed me from bondage.” She indicated a scar down the side of her left arm. It was long and jagged, the fleshy tissue raised and deformed.
Her story irritated me. It had not happened so romantically.
“You bit me, and it changed everything,” I retorted.
“I bit you, and it showed you everything,” she corrected. “All the knowledge you needed to gain insurmountable power, yet you failed.” She looked down at me. “You must be in a lot of pain. I can’t imagine what that Hellfire is putting you through.”
“Hellfire?”
At my question, she began to retreat.
“Where are you going?” I shouted.
“To find some other angel with the strength to run this place.”
I gritted my teeth and, in one movement, rose to a standing position. I roared through it all as a way of releasing the pain instead of letting it consume me.
With my feet planted firmly on the cold ground, I turned stiffly to face her. “Why? Am I not good enough?”
She seemed surprised at my audacity but then smirked, her skeptical expression shifting. She was impressed.
“Maybe I underestimated you,” she said, drawing near to my side.
The closeness worked to my advantage. I grabbed her by the arm and slammed her against the wall of the cave, gripping her neck firm in my hand.
“First of all, do not ever underestimate me. Do you hear? I will show you how capable I am of ruling this place.”
She sneered, but something akin to fascination flashed through her eyes.
“Second, do not ever touch me like I am your pet again, because I will remind you how that feels. And finally, none of this will ever replace what I had. You will never replace them. No one will ever replace them. I thank you, since I now have my own domain to rule.” I stole a look around. “Though, I must say, it’s an awful comparison to everything I lost.” Releasing her, I stepped back.
She automatically leaned over and grabbed at her throat. I realized my touch had burned her skin, which was now starting to heal before my eyes. After a few seconds, she regained her composure and set her sights on me.
“You will never frighten me, so stop trying.” She stood resolute, like I had never laid hands on her.
“Fine. But I can obviously hurt you.”
She chuckled. “Perhaps. You can hurt anyone with that Hellfire running through your veins, especially if you don’t control it. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll let your anger take charge instead of your mind.”
She started to leave, but I grabbed her arm once again and turned her to face me. As my touch burned her a second time, she shrugged out of my grasp.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“Why should I? There’s nothing in it for me.”
I contemplated her words. “What do you want in exchange?”
She smirked. “Oh, now you're bargaining? Well, let me think…” She posed with one finger on her mouth in mock deliberation.
“You find this amusing, do you? Either tell me what you want, or leave.” I knew that giving her this ultimatum would speed her decision.
“Fine. You really do take the fun out of everything.” At my stern glare, she relented. “All right, all right. I want your blood.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your blood. I want some of your blood.”
“What for?”
“Divulging information to you is not part of the deal.”
Once again, I contemplated her. I knew I could not trust her. She was a snake after all, in every way but form. Besides, how much did I really need to know about this Hellfire anyway?
My curiosity got the better of me. “Fine. You can have some of my blood in exchange for information. Now, speak.”
Reluctantly, she began to explain. “When you fell, He sent you down in a blaze. I
f you haven’t noticed, it’s absolutely freezing down here even though the fire continues to burn. That’s because it’s Hellfire, a unique type of fire created by Him. It now runs inside of you, literally. That is why it was so hard for you to stand. It’s your punishment, to be wracked with pain that will never go away because it resides inside. And since you are immortal, it is a punishment that will last forever.”
“No one is truly immortal. Not even you or me,” I said.
“That may be true, but I intend to live for quite some time. Now, it’s my turn,” she said, eagerly reaching for my hand.
“Wait.” I pulled back. “I have a question.”
She looked annoyed.
“When I burned you before, that was Hellfire?”
“Yes. At any skin-to-skin contact, Hellfire latches onto whoever you’re touching. Based on your sudden ability to stand, you’re learning to control it.”
I did feel better. I was still stiff and slow to move, but at least the agonizing pain had subsided. I guessed He had not expected that outcome. The thought pleased me.
Suddenly, I felt a pinch of pain and realized she had taken my hand and pricked it with a sharp claw she wore on her finger like a ring. Gazing down, I saw she wore a claw on every finger of her left hand, which must have been the glint of metal I saw earlier. Her gloves seemed to act as a barrier to the Hellfire since my touch was not burning her.
Blood oozed out of the small wound and, ever resourceful, she produced a small vial from the battered pouch at her hip. She uncorked the bottle, placed my finger to it, and squeezed so more blood would come out. When she had her desired amount, she released my hand and sealed the vial, then turned to leave.
“That is it? That is all you wanted?”
She looked at me over her shoulder. “You have no idea what you just gave to me.”
My anger flared. “What do you mean?”
She smiled. “It’s amazing how powerful the blood of an archangel is.”
I did not understand what she was insinuating, but I could not let it get to me. Instead, I asked her one more question.
“What is your name?”
The Genesis of Seven Page 7