Angelus Mortis is co-written by myself and loveless81 and includes familiar characters reprising their roles within the Quietus!Universe, but in an alternate universe setting and with some key differences: mainly, Shisui and Itachi Uchiha are both still alive and Cronus has not yet taken over Olympus. It follows an alternate timeline as a result and includes Cronus, Nyx, Erebus, Hypnos, Thanatos, Hades, and also Levi Ackerman from SnK. The focus is on the Underworld dwellers, but there are also cameo roles by Sakura, Suigetsu and other characters from the original Quietus story. The story also includes Original Characters that have identities tied in to Greek mythology.
This is a recommended read if you're into Quietus and its lore. Though it includes OCs, they are original characters linked to UW lore that have their own background stories and personalities and are not self-inserts.
~*Prologue*~
The heavily-robed woman bent prostrated before the luminous, sacred pool located within the hallowed Temple of the Fates, her pale palms turned upward in open supplication. The deep hood of her midnight blue, velvet-brocade cloak cast her regal features in shadow, concealing her identity. It was the same, submissive position that she had adopted for countless centuries in the hopes that her desperate, divine prayers would one day be answered.
And at last, at that very moment, she had been blessed with a sign.
She dared not move, dared not breathe for fear she would miss even the slightest detail as ethereal, echoing words drifted to her ears, imparting wisdom she had yearned to hear for so very long. Words she had feared would never come. Words she had prayed endlessly for The Fates to reveal in their great percipience, while serving tirelessly within their temple grounds. A long, arduous task it had been, one which had required intense discipline, patience and dedication while locked away in shrouded secrecy, undertaking relentless trials and tribulations, difficult fasts and enduring countless hours of isolation.
She listened, with bated breath, as the prophecy was foretold.
~x~
Chaos averted by affection,
A mortal soul - barred of direction,
That Death's touch may, her fate awaken,
Usurper's arrogance mistaken.
Time fragmented as the cosmos scattered,
Immortal bequest to mortal matter,
Prophesied child; anointed by love,
Receive thy heritage from stars above.
Tread no path of stone beneath the waves,
Vile greed buried in watery graves,
Let mortal over immortal reign,
And crown fall where her hand would deign.
~x~
The three voices that spoke in unison to convey the words that would dictate the course of destiny itself repeated the prophecy thrice before gradually fading away, and once more, silence reigned within the vast stone temple, broken only by the flickering of firelight that blazed in the bronze torch sconces flanking the sacred altar. She waited respectfully, her heart pounding within her chest, before rising at last.
Finally, the revelation had come. At last her weary wait was over, her patience and unabating, tenacious faith rewarded. Her endless despair turned to bubbling, joyous hope that flooded through her veins like liquid ambrosia, banishing the ice that had wedged itself around her heart.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together what it all meant, hastily scrawling the prophecy upon parchment lest she forget it. Holding it up to her eyes, she exhaled, reading the verses repeatedly to herself in awe, committing them to eternal memory.
A prophesied child, anointed by love. One whose fate, by Death's very touch, would awaken.
The gold thread in her embroidered cloak glinted in the torchlight as a beam graced her noble features. This was the key to realising her deepest hopes. Her innermost wishes, her greatest desires.
Ebony irises flickered in thoughtful contemplation, causing the jubilant smile that had spread across her thirst-chapped lips to wane. This sacred knowledge could not be permitted to fall into the wrong hands. It was up to the pale, cloaked figure - worn thin by centuries of obeisance - to ensure that the prophecy was fulfilled. Surely that was her calling. Surely that would make the countless aeons of her own well of personal suffering worth every sacrifice she had made.
There was much work to be done - and time was of the essence. She could afford to waste not a moment.
The torches around her abruptly snuffed out and the robed woman swiftly took her leave.
The stormy clouds brewing in the sky were a dark, angry grey, releasing rainfall as if the heavens themselves were sobbing. A congregation of people, all dressed in black, stood solemnly around a freshly covered grave, as final respects were paid at the most heart-breaking of funerals. The immediate family of the deceased were huddled together beneath umbrellas, weeping inconsolably, somehow drawing comfort from one another even when the strength to remain standing seemed too great a burden to bear.
Friends encircled the grieving relatives, offering their condolences and support as the cemetery staff saw to final formalities. Everyone was occupied with their grief or their duties.
So occupied, that they failed to notice the lone child who stood a distance away from the dispersing crowd, lingering by the grave. Her long, light brown hair was arranged in a tidy french-braid, and she was formally dressed in a black frock coat that grazed just below her knees in length, beneath which she wore a black pinafore dress and dark grey, wool tights.
The little girl's red-rimmed, tear-swollen eyes were locked onto the inscription on the lovingly customised tombstone that was surrounded by white chrysanthemum and lily flowers, their petals kissed by the falling drizzle. She seemed oblivious of the rain falling around her, unbothered by the way it drenched her hair, her clothing. Oblivious to everything around her, but the granite slab ahead of her.
~x~
In loving memory of:
Evangeline Marie Caelum
January 2nd 1994 - January 9th 2008
Too soon we lay you down to sleep,
We pray the Lord your soul to keep;
Within His arms held safe you'll be,
Our darling, sweet Evangelly.
Cherished with a love beyond telling,
Missed with a grief beyond all tears.
Forever in our hearts you'll be,
Undying for eternity.
~x~
White for innocence. For purity. Just like the deceased had been at the time of her parting from the world.
The figure cloaked in black, concealed from view from all in attendance, knew it with certainty. The soul of the departed was untarnished. Bound for the blessed Elysian Fields, to where it was his duty to convey her. A child lost prematurely to the world, her light snuffed out before maturity, ravaged by an incurable illness. Her long suffering was relieved at last in death.
Though they thought it to be cruel. They thought it to be merciless; but death was also often a kindness. Death at the end of a life of torment was mercy. Death was the gateway to true immortality. If only they knew. And yet they did not. How could they?
They were consumed with chasing life's lures, with building houses for inevitable destruction, with enthusiastic greetings to be sealed with goodbyes, with fulfilling the fleeting whims of their hearts so that when they, unexpectedly, came face to face with death - the depth of all they did not know terrified them as surely as the realization that the unknown was then imminent. They met their ends, with no knowledge of the afterlife.
He watched them pensively for a moment, contemplating the fragility of mortal life. Already, the many years of service to his role, despite his young age, had long since hardened his heart to such gatherings. One designated to reap souls could not weep over them. Such a thing would be folly. Weakness. His role suffered neither.
The little girl standing alone by the grave finally lifted her bowed head and he saw that her vivid hazel eyes, darkened from the storm of her emotions, were not filled with broken anguish as the rest of the humans in the assembly. Instead they blazed with a ferocious anger, a burning hatred that was startling. A degree of loathing that did not belong in the eyes of an innocent child whom he assumed could not be much older than a decade at most.
"I hate you," her whispered words travelled through the air to his ears, ringing clearly. Each one hissed with such vehemence, they were akin to stones being hurled at him, cursing his very existence. "I hate you. Why did she have to die? Why can't you, instead? Why did you take my sister? I hate you. I'll hate you, forever. I'll never forgive you."
He blinked, pitying the child. He understood, all too well, how pain at a young age forced one to change. How it compelled one to surround themselves within towering walls of impermeable stone, to encase and bury one's heart so that it was unreachable within those unbreakable barriers. The experience was traumatic for the girl, that he could clearly discern; a sister lost, a sister she would have to navigate through life without. And yet, if she was amongst the humans favoured by The Fates to survive into adulthood, the girl would grow up. She would move on. She would come to accept what childish naivety chose to so stubbornly defy.
That death was a natural end to life. That there could be no life without death.
Her words had been thought at him, screamed at him, countless times before. By mortals older than her who cursed Death. Sometimes by children even younger. And yet, the intensity of hatred he had glimpsed in that bitter gaze rivalled even that of the most heartbroken grown humans he had encountered in ages past.
She would forget. The pain would diminish. In time, she would learn how to live again.
Most of the adults had already drifted farther from the grave, distracted by the wailing mother and crying youngest brother of the deceased girl. They were being ushered away by remaining relatives and friends. The little girl remained unsupervised, her small hands balled into angry, upset fists.
With a slight flick of his wrist, he sent forth the crow perched atop his left shoulder, watching as it glided with grace toward the resentful child. Her eyes were finally dragged away from the tombstone, her attention firmly caught by the bird hopping and cawing at her feet. She turned, momentarily distracted, to follow it, as he commanded the crow to lead her back to the safety of her family.
"Lissy!" An elderly woman turned to the little girl censuringly as she approached. "For goodness sake! Don't wander off, child!" Her stern, distressed expression then softened as she gazed down at the girl, who had started to tremble from the cold and her suppressed emotions, the flood-gates of grief finally opening and crashing over her in response to being harshly admonished.
Pulling the sobbing child close into an affectionate embrace, the silver-haired woman added more gently, "Oh, Lissy! Come here, little love. Goodness, you're drenched! There, there. It'll be alright. Nana's here. Shhh, now."
The crow circled around and flew back to him, landing faithfully upon his shoulder once more. His duty done, the young deity turned on his heel and flickered out of existence before he had scarcely taken three strides away, the soul of the departed following obediently after him.
