--Blood Angel--
"After my Fall, after my disgraceful banishment, never thought I to find a joy like to the glories of my lost throne. With blackened wings and shadowed light, I was damned times over. Then, my eyes set to Her, and somehow, my Hell stopped burning."
-From the journal of Aluraune
Prelude: Atrocity
He knelt, head bowed, eyes averted from the intense light before him. He could feel the icy glances of his brothers who circled him a fair distance off, hear their furious whispers and hushed comments. He did not need to listen to know of what they spoke. He molded his wings tighter to his form, wishing that by simply disappearing from view they would all forget what he had done. His mind raced, trying to grasp why he had made the choices he had, why he had thrown away his perfect immortality for something he did not need. But the taste…the sweet blood…it was all he could think of. He knew that in a situation this dreadful, praying would do not even him any good. Still, he found himself repeating a fragment of the most common evocation "Hallowed be thy name…thy kingdom come…thy will be done…hallowed be they name…hallowed…" He was brought out of his reverie when a deep, emotionless voice called him to attention. "Mael, stand and face me!" Mael's head jerked forward, his snow-white hair whipping to the side, his focus now rapt on the being before him. My God, he thought, but whether as a fact or an expression of his fear, he could not decide. Mael stood shakily, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, his eyes darting around nervously. He looked to his brothers for some form of comfort, but they looked on with cold emotionless stares. "Mael,! I said face me!" the voice called again, and almost against his will Mael's eyes locked with the one who had commanded him. "Mael, prepare for thy judgment. Thy Brothers stand before you to present Testament to your Sin, and to ensure it is recorded for the future of the stars to know. Never shall your deeds escape Me, nor the eyes and hearts of your Brothers. Every Ring of Heaven and Hell alike shall know and remember thy name." With the last word said, a figure stepped out from the ring of watchful Guardians, contrasted to their pastel-colored robes, being garbed in a deep black outfit. His skin was of a sickly pale pallor, and his eyes were a cloudy grey. Shimmering blue glyphs stretched across the features of his face, and there could be no mistake in his identity. Azrael, the Angel of Death and Destruction himself, was to be the bearer of his doom. A shudder ran the length of Mael's spine. The Lord never called upon the aid of Azrael, for although he was a servant, just as the rest, his methods were questionable at best. For him to be called to duty either meant that He needed an especially cold Angel, or the content of the wrong being presented had drawn Azrael's morbid curiosity and he had asked for the duty himself. Mael couldn't decide which outcome was worse. In his hands Azrael held a glittering sheet of parchment, which he looked over, looked to Mael, back to the paper, back to Mael, and back to the paper again, as if comparing the accused to the accusations. His face betrayed no emotion, but Mael knew that Azrael was shocked. Never had they witnessed such as this. How the Libraries would ring with his tale for centuries to come. Azrael finished his preparations and moved the Lords side, turning to face Mael, keeping his eyes to the paper. Loudly and clearly, he began reading:
"Mael, Brother Guardian, Angel of Twilight, Keeper of Dusk and Dawn, Son of the Moon, Keeper of the Stars. The Silent Watcher,"
Mael winced as each name was read, for he knew that as soon as the words were spoken, each title was lost to him. It was as if they were stripping him of his dignity without making an event of it.
"Mael, I read now your wrongs so all may know, and so you shall know. I hold your judgment. You have drunk of the Holiest Fount, the Blood of All Life, and the Water of Eternity. You have tainted your own soul and blasphemously disregarded the glory granted to you by our Lord. You have slaughtered your own purity, blackened your own soul,"
Here Azrael looked up from the parchment, his eyes boring into Mael's. Never had Mael been more afraid in his life. Never had he been afraid.
"You, Mael, have drunk of the Blood of the Christ."
The whispers began once again, some worried, some furious, some curious. All though, burned in Mael's head, each as if an individual roar in his ears. A helpless moan of sorrow escaped Mael's lips, something very unbecoming of someone of his power. But, seeing as he was damned, he could care less. He was a wretch, and should act justly to his position. Silently, Azrael returned to the ring of witnesses, his sable colored garments fading into the brighter shades of his Brothers. Mael fell helplessly to his knees, supporting his shaking body with his hands. His hair fell along the sides of him, hiding his face from the crowd. He was glad he was at least given his emotions to hide. Then and there, for the first time in his existence, he cried. "God," he breathed to himself, the tears dropping onto his hand, icy and painful. "God…what have I done?" he pleaded, but he expected no answer. "Mael, do you deny this atrocious act you have committed?" Mael heard the question, but he was rendered speechless for the moment. Strands of his hair were matted to his tear stained cheeks, glistening like icicles in their whiteness. Even as he mourned his sins, deep within him, the fire of forbidden passion still flickered. The taste still burned his throat, still lingered on his tongue. If only he could take one more draught…"Mael, I have asked thee if you will denial or acceptance!" Mael flinched, forcing himself to speak. His reply came as a hoarse whisper. "I do not deny my Sin" He squeezed his eyes shut, all of his nerve expended, fear taking over his senses. He dreaded the final proclamation and somewhere, deep down, hoped that he would be forgiven, somehow, and return as a faithful servant.
"Then with your own admittance do I condemn thee. You have forsaken the sanctity of my Kingdom, and so you shall not be permitted to live amongst its splendor. Upon the world which I have created, there is a legend of a creature, one that you could play oh so well."
If it had been any other than He saying it, the remark would have been mocking.
"So, Mael, your sentence is thus: I shall bind you to the earth, allowing you to withhold your immortality, but at a price. You shall be what they have called a Vampire. You shall drink of their tainted blood to stay sane and thinking and it shall not be your choice. You shall be a demon, a beast. You, Mael, are banished!"
Mael's head jerked up, his eyes wide in terror. He had to plea, to beg, something. The only thing that left his lips were screams, and they were useless. Already, he was falling to Earth.
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