Chapter One

For our sovereign
All Hell will arise

. . .

The first time Azrael saw her, it was through a veil of dark blood covering his eyes and most of his body. He lay on the ground, clutching at consciousness with what strenght he had, head in the grass and screams trapped in his broken chest, pleas for the others to flee slipping in whispers past his lips.
The first time Azrael saw her, she fought like a demon of the night, tearing and biting and slashing with armored claws. The clash of her talons against the Reaver blade was deafening, even then, when all sounds had seemed so far away and alien.
The first time Azrael saw her, she saved his life and those of three hundred other vampires.
The first time Azrael saw her, he cursed Rahab and Zephon and Melchiah and thanked them with all the strenght remaining in his tired muscles, knowing that the three Kainite vampires had saved his Lord's clan and had condemned them all to death.
«What to do with you all, hmm?»
Azrael didn't have the strenght to answer. He shifted his gaze to his brethen, pleadingly asking for someone to take over his leader position for a little while -only until he didn't feel so certain he was about to die, only until his flesh had knitted itself together somewhat. He coughed up blood and felt soft hands lifting his head and silently begged for it not to be Nerissa Graves, begged she wasn't about to bash his head against the ground, blood and brain matter spurting from his cracked skull.
But it wasn't her, and with what voice he still had he begged for forgiveness.

Now, Azrael grimaced when he saw the children.
A boy and a girl, well-fed, clean, in a warm house.
This family had risen from poverty to luxury in a matter of months, and it was evident in the opulence of the place they lived in -full of useless pretty trinkets that no nobleman would have ever bought if he were one to keep an eye on his riches. The stench of expensive perfume wafting from their mother's skin was pungent, unpleasant and too strong for Azrael's vampiric sense of smell. His Lady herself had grimaced at the smell of it when she'd entered the house, welcomed in the town by screams of both terror and adoration. She'd grinned -her trademark sharp-toothed grin- at the attention, but her eyes had never lost their steely spark.
Now, here they were, waiting for her to be done with her games. Azrael was both amazed and terrified at how similar she and Kain were at times. Like a cat with her prey, she liked to toy with her victims before finishing them off, and this instance was no exception. This man had erred -an unforgivable mistake, Azrael will admit that much- and as his Lady had promised, there now was hell to pay. It was only a matter of time, and they all knew it -had known since she'd summoned them that morning, that fucking grin plastered to her face, her eyes burning with a fire that had long since gone out of control.
This human knew that too. Azrael numbly asked himself how could he condemn his whole family to death so easily, and to such a horrible death too. He could almost smell the stench of burning flesh beneath that of their blood.
«Really, Damian» his Lady was saying, rummaging in a cupboard, glass tinkling, «I can't see where you went wrong. We paid well -I can't imagine another, much less a human, would have paid you as much as half of what I was giving you.»
The father of the children was crying. Fat transparent tears were streaming down his ashen cheeks, mixing with the blood from the crushed flesh of his broken cheekbone. His wife was sitting beside him, wailing, her cries undoubtedly hurting his Lady's sensitive head. Azrael was tempted to demand her to shut up, but he knew that would only make her cry harder.
«Humans and their greed» his Queen breathed, finally finding what she was looking for. She uncorked the bottle, sniffing the contents. The smell of alcohol filled the room and the other vampires' nostrils. «You could have never imagined you'd get your hands on such a fortune, but you wanted more, didn't you? Always more, more, more.»
She delicately placed the bottle on the table along with a glass goblet. The man's eyes followed her movements as broken hiccups escaped him, his gag drenched with tears, snot and saliva.
«I'm disappointed, Damian» she informed him, and Azrael watched in silence as she opened a shallow cut on the boy's throat. She held the goblet to the bleeding wound, ignoring the child's muffled, terrified sobs and the uncomprehensible pleas of the mother. She filled the goblet midway, closing the wound with a flickering flame when she was done. The boy shrieked in the gag and Azrael feared the worst for a moment, but his Lady ignored him.
Returning to the bottle, she poured the wine into the goblet, mixing it with the blood and heating it up with the flame dancing on one fingertip. Her grin showed teeth.
«I want to know the reason why» she said serenely.
She cut the gag around his mouth and the man started pleading almost immediately. His incoherent babbling made Azrael's Queen grimace -but whether in pain or annoyance, the vampire couldn't tell. Pain, most likely. Azrael supposed she was suffering from a nasty hangover after the previous night. He almost sighed, his leathery wings drooping slightly.
«Hush» his Lady hissed, raising an armored hand. The man immediately fell silent, his hiccups and sobs ringing in the relatively silent room. «I asked for reasons, you dumb shit, not pleas. Who convinced you to do this? Or was it your own idea? One of my own fucking died thanks to your little game.»
«M-m-my L-l-l-lady I-I w-was f-f-forced to d-d-do it, I t-t-old them I d-d-didn't want to, I'm s-s-sorry, have me-mercy-»
«Don't lie to me, Damian -you stink enough already. I should have expected it, I guess, hmm? Such glory it would have brought you, being the one to kill me off. What would you have done with my carcass, Damian? Would you have torn my heart out to gloat about your victory? Would you have nailed my wings on your door?»
The man wailed pitifully, making Azrael sigh with a shake of his raven head. His Lady glanced at him, a smirk stretching her lilac lips.
«Say, Damian, what about a deal?» she asked, grin ever spreading. She took a sip from the goblet. «A game. It's fun. You inspired me.»
Her burning gaze trailed to the two sobbing children. Now her grin was showing teeth and Azrael let his eyes fall closed in momentary grief.
«Azrael, if you please?»
It was an order, of course, and Azrael stepped forward, standing behind the children. The young humans only cried harder, and the vampire thought about the sting their tears would cause on his skin.
«My Lady» he muttered in his gravelly voice. She smirked at him.
«Come on, Damian. Choose.»
The man's sobs abruptly stopped. He turned wide brown eyes on Azrael's Mistress, scared and yet somewhat incredulous at what she was asking of him.
«P-p-p-lease» he babbled, pleas falling from his lips like an unstoppable river. «M-m-my Lady, h-have m-mercy...»
«Daaamiannn.»
His name was sing-songed in a way that made Azrael lower his head. The blond and chestnut hair of the children came into his view and he closed his eyes for another long moment.
The debate lasted as long as Azrael was expecting it to, but luckily both his Lady and her vampires had time. It allowed him time to think -something that he didn't know whether it was good or bad. It let him think about the past three hundred and thirty-two years, about the first day his gaze landed on the sharp-toothed grin of Nerissa Graves. About the years, centuries before her, when he was still part of the Razielim clan and his Lord seemed to be the invincible god, while Kain was only a distant ideal lost somewhere in the fog of his Turning. The day his Lord Raziel had been struck down, wings torn from a back that -Azrael knew- was perfect in every detail, not a flaw to be found on that creamy skin. The day he'd slaughtered a group of Turelim vampires, so wanton for his head, and had come back to his clan bearing earth-shattering news.
Those days still came back in his nightmares sometimes. They especially had a tendency to return after days when he'd seen his Mistress show her trademark grin -cruel, sharp-toothed and way too white, the smile of a vampire that has long since gone insane. The sight of that smile always made him shudder with how similar to Kain's it was.
She didn't need to give shape to her cruelty, her ruthlessness being evident enough in her armored gauntlets. She was Nosgoth's Left Hand of God, unforgiving and unpredictable, capable of burning cities to the finest ashes and of picking children from the streets to give them a future. Azrael could never predict how Nerissa Graves would react to his presence and what he had to say, even if he was her General, her own way of showing off her power. He was the shape and face people had given to her cruelty, even if he was not the one to burn entire cities to the ground.
The man's response wasn't surprising at all.
«The girl. The girl» Damian sobbed, unable to look his wife or his children in the eyes, Nerissa's laughter bursting forth and ringing in the air over the woman's cries and moans and the children's shrieks.
«Azrael.»
His talons pierced the boy's small chest as if it were made of butter, the child's breath stuttering as his lungs filled with blood. Red liquid oozed from his mouth, spewing from his nose, air gurgling into his small throat. He convulsed a couple times before his eyes finally rolled back into his skull, body slumping on the table he sat at with his mother screaming wildly, eyes wide and crazed, struggling in her bonds as if they would ever give beneath her human strenght.
Damian was sobbing, unable to scream as his Lady cut the bonds, his tears flooding his face as he cradled his son's corpse close.
Nerissa looked bored now.
Have you secured every window and door, Azrael?
-Yes, my Lady.
Good. We're done here.
Azrael bowed deeply, his wings brushing the table, and grabbed the surviving child. He ignored Damian's calls -no, no, please oh please- and went right out of the door, pulling the screaming and kicking girl with him. His Lady came out shortly after, tossing the bottle of wine to one of the younger vampires she'd brought with.
She blocked the door by melting its metal hinges, the lock and handle dripping in sizzling silvery drops to the dry brown earth and Damian's screams reaching the pitch where Azrael wondered how his vocal chords hadn't yet ruptured.
«Requiescat in pace» she said with mock solemnity, before setting fire to the house and all those within with a wide, lazy movement of her hands.
The fire emerged from her hands with the speed of a striking snake. It latched on the house and tasted it, licking up the walls, slipping into the cracks in the roof, dripping into the rooms and turning them into a roaring inferno in a matter of seconds. The flames reached their scorching fingers high in the sky, turning the night into day as they caressed the stars and the air began to ring with screams. The reds and oranges and yellows of the fire had been carved into Azrael's mind long ago, but he still found beauty in it every time, despite everything.
He wondered what that made him. A monster like Nerissa? Like Kain?
The little girl in Azrael's grasp screamed as the hellish flames devoured her home and family. She was calling for her mother. Nerissa's eyes flashed as she backhanded her hard across the face.
«Stupid bitch» she hissed. «Betrayed by your father, and still you cry out for him? Such a disappointment, such a shame, because you were born a fucking woman and not a male. Can't you muster the will to fight, girl?»
The girl cried still, even with a broken jaw and blood pouring from her split lips. Nerissa growled in disgust and Azrael saw the desire to kill in her eyes, but then she turned to the burning house and the screams coming from there and her expression turned peaceful.
Can't have the kid die from bloodloss before she becomes a fine bloodslave, Azrael supposed. He didn't pity the girl. She could have been burning alive in the house with her mother and father and dead brother, but she was here instead, whole and not in too much pain, and she would continue to be so at least for ten years more. She would soon forget her human family.
They all did, in the end.
Nerissa Graves turned towards the small crowd that had formed out of the house. There were murmurs and shaking of heads, but they all died down when she lifted a hand, the armored fingers still engulfed by undying flames.
«I trust I do not have to comment on this display» she said, voice casual and dangerous. «You asked for my protection and agreed to my price. I need a new tradesman.»
There was a good number of willing ones. Nerissa's smile turned pleased.
They departed from the silent village shortly after, the burning house a warning for all its inhabitants. The humans watched them go in silence, their expressions a mixture of hatred, fear and the kind of devotion that knew no bounds -the devotion of men and women who could see and touch their God, instead of only hearing of Him. Azrael had been used to those expressions all his vampiric life, but never had he seen such different emotions all splayed in one single moment.
The grin that split his Lady's face told him she had.
His Lady, yes -his Mistress from the moment she'd defeated Kain and saved them all from his wrath. His Mistress since Rahab and Zephon and Melchiah had found something into the dark pits of their hearts, and had handed them over to the Mad Angel.
An angel with white wings and dark skin and flames woven into her hair, with a mad grin upon her lips and a tendency to drink too much. An angel without a halo who'd fallen upon Nosgoth without the skies breaking and without the earth recoiling from her presence, a sword at her hip and armored gauntlets at her hands, whose only desire was to set fire to the world.
Her name was Nerissa Graves, and a grave she would be for all those standing in her way.

. . .

Authoress' note:
I promised a sequel, so here you go!
ME WRITING CHILD ABUSE DOES NOT MEAN I CONDONE IT IN ANY WAY. Child abuse is wrong, people. I do not justify nor believe everything I write.
I do not own in any shape or form the characters featured in this story -this also applies to the story's image cover and to the quotes at the beginning of each chapter. I only own my OCs and the story's plot.
Comments please!
Have a nice day/night and love Legacy of Kain!