by Nathan Wall
Evolution of Angels
By: Nathan Wall
Copyright © 2014 by Nathan Wall
All right reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The characters, events and world created in this Novel are the sole property of the author. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other-except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and author.
Epigraph lyrics from the song SuperMegaDubstep by Ra, from the album Critical Mass (2013). Copyright © 2013 by Sahaja Music
ISBN: 978-1-941714-01-0
Dedication
For my wife, family,
those who believed in me,
and those to come.
Epigraph
Whatever you say, whatever you think
You will never understand why we became extinct...
Now that time has told the truth,
the Sun goes down.
- Ra, “SuperMegaDubstep,”
Table of Contents
Dedication......................................iii
Epigraph..........................................v
Prologue.........................................1
Episode 1.......................................13
Episode 2......................................47
Episode 3......................................81
Episode 4.....................................113
Episode 5.....................................147
Episode 6.....................................181
Episode 7.....................................213
Episode 8....................................247
Episode 9....................................281
Epilogue.....................................329
Acknowledgments...........................a
About the author.............................c
After Credits.................................e
Prologue
Azrael stood atop a flat cliff overlooking miles of sprawling grass lands. He watched the women and children below toil in the fields while the men made their way back from their evening kill. It had been a few millennia since the Rebellion of Pride, and subsequently, the Fall. To the men and women he watched over, the battle was a long lost memory, but for Azrael it seemed like mere minutes had passed.
A mild breeze swirled up the hillside and brushed his long dark hair away from his bright eyes. A pack of wolves crept up next to him and sat down, unaware of his presence. They closed their eyes as the wind rushed over their faces.
He looked to his right, staring at the fading sun, and thought briefly about what its light used to represent. Since pride entered its heart, it was cursed to rise and fall and work at the Earth's command.
Azrael once again ignored the call which he had been hearing in his mind all afternoon. He couldn't deal with another collection, at least not one like this. Though he fought to sit and watch the tangerines, baby blues, and bright pinks of the sky blend together for one last evening, he still felt compelled to heed the call. It was his duty. He was not afforded the same opportunity, as the human souls he collected, to do as he pleased.
“You have not been answering, Brother.” The tenor-like tone interrupted Azrael's deep concentration. He opened his eyes to see Gabriel floating in front of him. His silver armor glistened in the light and the red colored parts underneath moved fluidly along his body as if it were a second skin; not just alive, but sentient. “You are past due. You have time to make up. I insist on helping.”
“If this were any normal collection, I would be there already. I am uncertain I can bear another evening such as this.” Azrael looked away and shook his head, sighing. He slowly stood and walked in the other direction. “I still hear them all in my head. It is as though a piece of them is left behind each time I collect. Every day these thousands of years, I have heard their cries and pleas and how they do not understand why they must leave. Have you ever had a five-year-old girl ask if she had to leave because her parents did not love her?”
“It is not our place to feel sympathy for them, but only to do our duties.” Gabriel floated alongside Azrael, his feet gliding just inches from the ground. He looked Azrael over, snarling at the way he walked along in human garb. “Is there something wrong with your aurascales Armor?”
“No.” Azrael shook his head and looked his blonde counterpart in the eyes. A messenger, and not a collector, Gabriel showed no signs of the imperfections Azrael believed to be innate in all their kind. Sure, he'd seen war and told men of the pending catastrophes that would befall them, enabling those Father saw fit to flee doom. However, delivering the news and creating it were two different things.
Though Gabriel wielded a sword during the Pride Rebellion and took up a seat amongst Azrael and the other six Archangels, he'd been a spectator since. He only witnessed the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. He didn't actually have to rain down fire and brimstone alongside Azrael. He didn't have to fulfill the tenth plague on the night of Passover. During the flood, he got to bring the good news that it was over via a dove and didn't have to explain to the souls of children that they weren't fit to live anymore because of the actions of their wicked parents.
“You would not understand,” Azrael said, frowning.
“What you are failing to realize is that I do not need to understand. He does. That is all that is important.” Gabriel sailed quickly around and stood in front of Azrael. A white light shone over his body and his armor vanished. He reached his hand out and took hold of Azrael's arm, gently rubbing the top of his hand. “Father knows what it is you are experiencing. Though He expects unwavering obedience, I have been instructed to tell you that He will hold no judgment against you, as long as you answer your call and fulfill your duties.”
“Humans; they are allowed to squander their gifts and do unspeakable things to one another, and still they have favor. They are allowed the right to choose a path despite the fact that they were created by an all-knowing Father...”
“Careful, Azrael. You are sounding an awful lot like you-know-who,” Gabriel warned, stepping back. A bright light reformed over his body. The red skin-like armor stretched out over his eyes, morphing his face into that of a tiger with three sets of silver stripes slashing across the chin, cheeks, and eyes. Large metallic feathers grew out of his back from the fluidly moving red armor and gently swayed in the wind. A flaming sword and shield materialized out of thin air. Gabriel took a defensive stance. “I pray you stop what it is you're about to say.”
“Oh, so you can read minds now?” Azrael smirked, looked at the ground and then up Gabriel's body, analyzing the stance. He shook his head. “You misjudge what it is I am saying. I am not putting us above them. I am simply pointing out the irony in the fact that we were created as all-powerful beings, born without choice, instructed to a set of eternal laws, yet we still crack. Why is that? If man has free will and we do not, does that not mean Father knows what we are going to do and when we are going to do it?”
“I suppose.” Gabriel relaxed his stance, his weapons vanishing.
“Then does that not mean He created Lucifer with a sense of insatiable pride and knew his rebellion was going to come?” Azrael made two fists and crossed his arms over his chest. He closed his eyes and flung his arms out wide. A bright white light devoured t
he entire sky. When the flash dissolved, he stood before Gabriel in his full shining black armor with the fluidly moving part of it a pale blue color. His wings were more spiked in nature and in his hand a seven-foot rod formed with a sword on one end and a curved blade on the other. His face shifted into a black ghoulish image with glowing blue eyes and prominent skeletal features where his cheekbones and mouth should be. “I am ready to heed this call. Thank you for listening.”
Gabriel nodded and slowly rose toward the sky. Azrael looked at the wolves and then jumped in the air, following his brother. Once they were a good twenty feet off the ground, their wings expanded, and with one flap they soared through the stratosphere. No more time had passed than what it took for a single beat of the heart and they were gliding along in the silent chill of space.
Gabriel soared right along toward their destination, but Azrael took a moment to admire the beautiful symmetry of all creation. Though there was no denying the intricate ways in which the Father had created the blueprint to build each piece of the infinite cosmos, he wondered what the purpose of it all was. The curves of the blues and greens on the Earth below along with random spurts of fluffy white intermingled were the most intriguing of all the images in his field of view. In the great vast black, the millions of shining dots poking holes in the black canvas spoke to him.
Not wanting his brother to get too far, Azrael focused on Gabriel and was flying next to him within a second. The two turned back down into the atmosphere. Behind them large menacing clouds formed. They phased out of one plane of existence and into man's realm. They were flying toward a large palace in the distance when the hundreds of onlookers below looked up at what appeared to be two shooting stars falling toward Earth. The front of a storm following closely behind was a sight some saw as a sign of God's impending vengeance.
They were right.
“Is that Zeus behind us?” Gabriel asked, looking up at the storm as he and Azrael drifted into the garden of the lavish palace. With the crack of thunder, a purple light appeared, and another one of their brothers stood before them. He was adorned in silver plated armor which ran over his shoulders and chest and then down the middle of his stomach. The fluid aurascales shimmered with a vibrant purple. They adhered to his body and regulated his core temperature. Its relationship with Zeus was symbiotic, affording him protection while he supplied it with nourishment. “You always knew how to make an entrance. What's your business?”
“These people fall under the protection of my star,” Zeus replied, retracting his wings. The armor around his face pulled back, exposing his sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. His booming voice was unmistakable, sounding like the low grumble of distant thunder. “It is within my right to witness this.”
“It is fine, Gabriel. You have seen me work before. I see no reason for our brother to leave,” replied Azrael. He placed his hand on the back of Gabriel's shoulder and nodded at Zeus. He headed up the long staircase, past the guards in their perfect regalia and frozen demeanor, and into a scene he knew was coming but was still not prepared for.
In front of him, fixed in time, was a feast of all feasts. However, instead of the rejoicing that normally accompanied such a lavish display of wealth and circumstance, the scene was populated with petrified faces, individuals falling over themselves sick, and the King at the head of the table seated on a grand throne of gold, laughing at their misery.
“What happened to me, sir?”
Azrael turned his head toward the faint cry, noticing the soul of a small boy, no more than six or seven, sitting in the corner with his chin resting on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. The ghoulish armor retreated from Azrael's face so as to not scare the child.
The boy spoke again. “How did I displease him so?”
“Sometimes... we don't know what our fathers have planned for us. Sometimes, we just need a little faith. But it will be alright now. I promise.” Azrael bent over and offered his hand to the boy. As the child placed his hand into Azrael's large palm, visions of the child's death became a shared memory. A blue glow slithered through his veins and his eyes emitted a blue light. Azrael fell over and pulled feverishly at his own hair, yelling so loud that the ground rumbled and caused cracks to shoot up the walls of the great palace. “That… ANIMAL.”
Suddenly, Azrael and the boy became one consciousness. Images of the boy running through the gardens with his many siblings, laughing as they played games, were experienced from a first person perspective. They laughed heartily, trying to catch a small toad that was jumping through the flowers. The boy looked up and saw his father, the King, standing atop a large staircase with the sun imposing brightly in the sky behind him.
“Nyctimus,” his father called, waving his hand in a come-hither motion. “I need a word with you.”
“Yes, Father.” The boy smiled, his heart pounding with joy. It had been months since his father was well enough to walk about. All of Nyctimus's siblings grumbled with jealousy as their brother ran hurriedly up the steps. He stood in front of his father, looked up into his eyes, and wrapped his arms around him in a warm embrace. “What can I do for you?”
“Just accompany me for a small walk,” the King replied.
They made their way down the hall and Azrael split from the boy. He followed the father-and-son duo from a third person point of view.
As the two made their way to a secluded room, the King handed his young son a small treat. Shortly after the boy devoured the candy he began to feel lethargic and slumped over, unable to hold up his own weight. The King laid the boy across the floor while two servants stripped the child.
“Your mother is a lying whore,” the King sneered, pulling a long blade from his sheath. He rubbed his son's head, brushing the hair behind his ear, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You were always the favorite child to spring from between her lying legs.”
The King slowly slid the knife into Nyctimus's gut. The sharp piercing burn rode roughshod over the boy's senses. He could feel every inch of penetration, but was unable to scream. His lips quivered when his father turned the knife and then quickly pulled it from his flesh. The King slashed the boy’s face, dragging the blade from cheek to cheek.
A puddle of blood stretched out across the marble floor. The boy’s empty gaze stared blankly at his father. Enraged by the final look his son gave, the King gouged out each of the boy's eyes, placed them in a chalice, and then severed the head.
Time flashed forward. The King stood at his banquet table, offering a toast to his wife after they'd eaten half their meal. They all took up a drink, and when the Queen had sipped enough wine, she noticed two dark brown eyes staring at her from the depths of her chalice, drenched in the blood-red liquid. She let out a terrible scream and the King slammed her young son's severed head onto the table.
“How did your bastard taste, my dear?” he laughed.
Azrael's vision ended, forcing him to expel the boy's soul. He looked at Zeus and Gabriel who were unable to share in the sights and shook his head.
“You must collect his soul, Azrael,” Gabriel shouted, manifesting his sword. Azrael walked toward the King while Gabriel pleaded once more. “Brother, I beg of you. Do as you are expected.”
“Have a look for yourself, Gabriel, and see if you can still stand there and expect me to carry that for eternity.” Azrael kept his focus on the King. He snapped his fingers and time for the humans began to tick once more as they were unfrozen. “King Lycaon of Arcadia from the house of Maenalus, you are to be judged swiftly and righteously.”
“I must see what he saw,” Zeus said. He touched the boy's soul, but was unable to hold it for long as the power was too strong for him to contain. However, it was still long enough for him to get a glimpse of what befell the boy. “Azrael... He is justified, Gabriel.”
“There is no justification for breaking the natural order,” Gabriel yelled. His armor shimmered with bright energy surges, his wings widened, and his sword caught fire. “I must bri
ng you in.”
“Not yet, you will not.” Zeus grabbed hold of Gabriel, wrapping his arms around the torso. He slung Gabriel through a wall and then manifested a lightning bolt in his hand, striking Gabriel with it. His brother vanished. He looked toward Azrael. “You have time, but how much I do not know.”
“Who are you?” King Lycaon fell to his knees, his hands trembling and his eyes filled with terror. He grabbed Azrael's feet and kissed them. “Please forgive me, Lord, for I know not what I do.”
“Though you are promised a swift death, I will afford to you only what you afforded to your son.” Azrael held the King's jaw firmly and ripped it from his skull. He then placed his hand on the King's forehead and trapped the soul inside the body. “I will not allow you to take leave of your earthly shell just yet.”
The King's eyes burst into flames as Azrael tore the bones from his feet and hands, leaving behind limp hanging flesh. He slowly sunk his scythe into the King's belly and trimmed in several directions.
“I will give you just a taste of what awaits you inside Lucifer's star,” Azrael softly whispered, punching inside the King's chest to eviscerate the heart. The King fell to the ground, his soul still trapped in his body. “You can stay there.”
The guards dropped their weapons and the servants abandoned their trays of food and wine. Everyone except the Queen fled in all directions. She stood, uncertain of Azrael’s motives, and made her way to her son's severed head. Falling to her knees, she covered her eyes wailed.
Azrael looked over to Zeus who gave an approving nod, and then made his way next to the crying woman. He knelt beside her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and touched the severed head. A large bubble of light slowly grew out around them. When its crest reached the boy's soul, he became one with the light as it was quickly sucked back into the epicenter. When all was visible, the boy lay on the table, whole and alive, sleeping soundly.