"No, not alone!"
While holding the remains of the Seventh Seal, War looked towards the sky, seeing his brothers arriving. Death, Fury and Strife were finally reunited with him after more than a century in which he was the Council's prisoner. The four Nephilim were a sight to see: proud, strong, arrogant and extremely powerful. Watching them banded together made Uriel feel something that she didn't even feel fighting the Destroyer's forces for a hundred years: fear. Her feelings were augmented even further as the red Horseman approached his fellow Nephilim.
"Brothers, it is good to see you!"
Strife removed his helmet, revealing a greenish face with thin lips and yellow glowing eyes. "I bet. It must be quite refreshing to see your brothers one more time after slaughtering like what, half of Creation?" Fury looked at the Rider of the White Horse, giving him a condescending glare:
"War is a hero, Strife. He killed the Destroyer and eliminated his foul influence from the face of the Earth. You should be grateful! He saved Creation while you lost your weapons to a Maker on a dare!" Strife looked down, feeling visibly ashamed.
"You… lost Mercy and Redemption on a dare? That's why the Makers in the Forge Lands had your pistol." Death took out Redemption from its holster and presented it to its rightful owner.
"And Ulthane, the Black Hammer, as well!" War showed Mercy to Strife as well.
"Well, well, my brothers, how much love you have for me! Returning both of my pistols to me? You shouldn't have…" Suddenly, Death put Redemption back into the holster:
"We won't be returning the pistols to you, yet! It is not my fault or War's that you lost them!" Hearing this, Strife took out a shotgun made from strange bones and pointed it to Death's head.
"It seems I wasn't the only one who bought things from Vulgrim. The Bonebearer. I thought it was lost!"
"Well… it isn't! Give me back my pistols, both of you, or the only things that will be lost would be your lives!"
"ENOUGH!" A booming voice almost shattered the platform the Nephilim and the angelic army stood on. An Angel, clad in a long, blue robe with huge wings covered with runes descended.
"Azrael…" Uriel looked shocked. The entire Angel army kneeled before the Angel of Death.
"Horsemen! End your petty squabbling and listen to me. As the Seventh Seal was broken, the truce between the First and Second Kingdoms is ended. So, as of now, we are at war with the dark forces of Hell."
"Yes, because until now, the last hundred years were times of peace and quiet between you." Death responded with his sarcastic tone. Azrael was visibly insulted by the Horseman's snide remark but he let it slide.
"The Charred Council has been corrupted. War ruining the Third Kingdom was just part of a greater scheme!" The red Horseman approached Azrael, with the Armageddon Blade in his hand.
"A scheme you and Abaddon concocted, Angel of Death. The destruction of the human race is on you!" Azrael closed his eyes:
"Indeed, and I should be judged and tried for my sins. However, we have another problem. The Council can no longer be trusted to keep the Balance! Horsemen, we should reconvene at a new location. We must talk, it is very important!"
"Screw you, you feathered piece of garbage! The only ones who should reconvene are you and your friend Abaddon, in the depths of Hell!" Strife's anger was understandable. However, War interfered:
"Azrael, you helped me on my quest to redeem myself. For that, I am most grateful. But you schemed with the one who became the enemy of all that lives. How can we trust you?"
"Honestly, I think we should hear what the Angel of Death has to say. It is clearly that he was coerced into helping Abaddon." Quite unusual for someone whose powers derive from anger and seething hate, Fury calmly expressed her opinion and War seemed to agree with her. However, it was clearly that Death had the final say.
"I agree with Fury. You care about the Balance as much as we do and you won't risk the destruction of neither the White City nor the First Kingdom. The Horsemen will participate to this meeting of yours. But if we are to talk about the Balance, we should talk freely with all the parts involved. We should end with the plotting behind other people's back. That means… we must talk with the Makers and even with…Hell."
Uriel, hearing all this, decided to interfere:
"With all due respect, Horseman, I have stood silent the whole time, but now I can't believe what I'm hearing. Hell doesn't care about the Balance! They care only for blood and endless fighting. I agree we should involve the Makers, but the Dark Ones?"
"It is not "we"! I don't think we formed an alliance here, Uriel." Death was right. The Horsemen and the armies of Light are not friends. Azrael then gently touched the armored shoulder of Uriel and spoke, in a calmly manner:
"Uriel, the Hellguard stood proud for eons, protecting Creation from the Demons. You are the pride of Heaven, even though the White City barred its gates for you, condemning you to fight against the Destroyer's forces. But you of all people should know how important the Balance is to Heaven! The Creator intended for us to be His stalwart shield! And if that means we have to parlay with Demons, so be it! Our enemy right now is not Hell, but The Charred Council! They are being of incomprehensible power and their retribution would be swift and merciless. They threaten the very Balance they once upheld. And we can't do this without the leader of the Hellguard! If the Demons see that you are willing to put aside your hatred even for a minute, maybe they will put aside theirs." There was much wisdom in Azrael's words. A hundred years of isolation within the Black Throne didn't dull his mind even one bit. After thinking for a minute, Uriel took out her sword and kneeled before Azrael:
"I, Uriel of the Hellguard, swear before the host of Angels and the Four Horsemen that I will do anything within my power to help. But I need to ask you one favor. I never asked for anything, but this… this is something that I need, to give me closure!"
"What is it, Uriel?"
"I…" Uriel then fixed her gaze upon Abaddon's dead body. "I want to take Abaddon's remains and lay them to rest!"
"Impossible! The Destroyer does not deserve rest!" An entire group of angels shouted. "Because of him we are unable to see the glory of our beloved City again!" said another.
"Uriel, your request is very difficult to fulfill. Even now, Abaddon's body is full of Demonic power that attracts Abyssal beings to it like bees to honey. You cannot leave Earth and if you bury him here, it would become a fount of energy most foul!" Before the Angel could say anything else, Death interrupted Azrael.
"I may be able to help Uriel on that account, provided she keeps her word. There is no realm that could safeguard Abaddon's body. At least, not in Creation."
"You can't possibly think to…"
"Yes. I will send his body to Oblivion. There, he is unreachable. Nobody can get to him, not Angel, or Demon, or Horseman."
Uriel was devastated hearing this. Oblivion was a realm of nothingness, reserved only to those condemned by the Council to spend their eternity outside Creation. Even though Abaddon was the Destroyer, her feelings for him still lingered inside her heart, even though Uriel didn't want to acknowledge them.
"Uh, hello? Oblivion is under the Council's supervision. You can't go there, unless you want to join the Destroyer's filthy carcass inside that wretched place!" Strife had a point but Death just answered this:
"Then I best be off, before the Council finds out about it!"