It was a surprisingly mild day for a December morning.
The oil field down on the ground was still working just as incessantly and tireless under the new sun as it did under the moon's rays. The workers looked like ants from where she was and with her powers she could hear their whispers of good morning's and how are you's.
The beautiful sunrise that she spotted earlier from on high had settled in her mind and its reflections on the waters of the Persian Gulf from the east had burned its wonderful colours in her memories. Just like the past million sunrises she witnessed had done and what another million sunrises will continue to do.
Her peace of mind was interrupted as soon as the last vestiges of night were disappearing on the horizon.
"Early, I see."
To describe what she saw as she looked at the interlocutor would be a feat worthy of the greatest poets and most cunning of scholars. Giving an honest attempt at such she tried to focus on the speaker as he smiled patiently at her. To describe the sheer magnificence in his stance, the careless grace and inviting smile and warm eyes… It was like describing the exact shade of gold to a blind person. It was like describing how the many hues of the ocean's waves as they brightened under the sun's light to a hydrophobic. In the end, it was like gazing upon the halo of light surrounding a black hole and thinking it paled to the beauty of this creature.
"Ah, my apologies. It seems I forgot to tone it down."
And suddenly the creature of unnatural beauty turned into a man. A winged man. Eight golden wings of varying sizes, that sprouted in a perfectly symmetrical manner across his back, twitched and swayed gently as his long bright red hair cascaded down his front. Hidden behind his dawn-red hair, long fae like ears were present, and beneath the pale lashes a gentle pair of yellow eyes that looked upon her with curiosity and amusement.
The angel smiled, revealing two perfectly white rows of teeth, several of them sharp and pointy, making his amused grin very cat like in appearance.
Broken from her musings she berated herself from forgetting basic courtesies. She flexed her own wings, opening them in what she hoped was a welcoming manner, and opened her right palm as if about to wave and saluted her superior.
"Hail, Jehoel of the Holy Fire, Seraph amongst the Servants, Jailer of Leviathan, Destroyer of Idolaters and Wanax of this Plane, may the Light shine upon thee."
After she finish the formal greeting, the man imitated her only a fraction of a second apart.
"And Hail to thee, Mitzrael of the Coast, Seated upon a Throne, Master of Whispers and Satrap of this Plane, may thine Darkness always be kept at bay."
His smile turned genuine as he continued.
"You are still the only one of us who keeps up with these formalities, Mitz. Millions of years and a thousand worlds and yet, still, you can't say a simple Hello."
She ignored her pinking cheeks as she huffed.
"Someone as to keep the younglings on their toes. If we let them be, soon enough the Silver City will be overrun with a bunch of rude, uneducated angels that will make fools of themselves and embarrass us!."
Jehoel chuckled. "We can't have that can we?"
She simply huffed again and crossed her arms.
"Anyway… You summoned us?"
The seraph's face immediately turned sour. Oh, Jehoel, she thought in the privacy of her mind, millions of years and a thousand worlds and yet, still, you can't hide your feelings.
"It's better if we wait for the others. I do not want to keep explaining myself to every new arrival."
"May I ask, you requested a Court very urgently… Are we expecting-"
Jehoel cut her question right in the beginning, gesticulating with a wave of his hand.
"Perhaps, certainly a more active threat than the current one. The Book as yet to reveal everything on this matter." Somehow his face turned even more bitter when the seraph mentioned the Book.
Mitzrael tried not to sigh.
Ever since the arrival of The Warrior and the spread of parahumanity, the Book of Fate, kept hitting dead ends in its predictions. The Book was becoming more like a Chinese cookie fortune compilation than the omniscient compilation of all events to have happen, are happening and might happen in this universe that it was supposed to be.
Actually, with the beginning of parahumanity the entire Book might has well been defenestrated for all that it mattered. And the infected were spreading! Even now an entire world was falling in the hands of a Theocracy spearheaded by these infected individuals and yet poor Nithael could only watch and weep as his humans turned on each other.
A version of the Book of Fate was handed to every Wanax at the beginning of their reign in their assigned Plane, it detailed the tasks necessary to be accomplished and every event in order to prepare for it. However, nowadays, the increased influx of tasks was overwhelming the Servants assigned to this plane of Creation; Free will, one of the few things that could mess with the Book's predictions, had become a constant thorn to angelic administration and only Fixed Points in Time were safe from mortal meddling.
The security of Free Will, or as it is known by the firstborn Servants who were there to witness its inception (like herself and Jehoel), Lilith's Principle, after the first mortal's descent to a higher stage of existence due to her own choices and decisions, was the most paramount duty of all angels. This involved, among a myriad of smaller duties, the maintenance of Freedom, both positive and negative, and the enforcement of an absolute non-interference policy in the lives and deaths of all of Creation's inhabitants.
Ultimately, this meant that since The Warrior and its components possessed sentience, as little of it as it may be (sure they were sapient, but sentience, true sentience, means more than just knowing how to count to 3), and the ability to choose and make their own decisions, all angels were not allowed to interfere with their lives. Coupled with the Shards symbiotic – at best – or outright parasitic – at worse – relation with Humans, who possessed their own Free Will, this entire matter became a mess of legal grey areas which deadlocked any decision being made after Scion first appeared.
The grief being felt by the Entity at the death of its mate, even if the being didn't know what that feeling was or acknowledged it, didn't help matters. Those feelings of loss and hopelessness were enough to deter even the staunchest of warriors on Jehoel's Court to try and fight, and hopefully kill, this multi-dimensional creature. After all, if it was both capable of emotions and rational thought, did it not mean its status fell under Lilith's Principle?
So, the name of the game was Quarantine and their primary policy was indirect and overt containment. Unfortunately, containing a being that can break dimensional walls was difficult and by the time the administrators assigned to this Plane of existence had managed to round up all the infected worlds in their own little metaphysical corner of the Multiverse and shield them from the outside, almost an entire decade had passed on the world that acted as patient zero.
The last three years alone had been chaotic for her, and she felt a bit overwhelmed, after all, her duties, although complicated, weren't very extensive and yet somehow even she was called to pull more than her usual weight.
Before she could needle him further for information, another figure appeared to their right.
Rannael was the third oldest being among Jehoel's Court and Mitzrael's feelings on the mysterious rising star of the angelic hierarchy were somewhat mixed.
Having distinguished themselves during the War in Heaven, casting down two of the rebellious Watchers, it was during the Purge of the Nephelim that Rannael became truly famous for personally slaying Absolom in single combat.
Hymns were still sung in the Silver City of Moonlit Rannael spearing the corrupt Absolom in the heart in a grand duel for the ages. Romantics, all of them. She had seen his cruelty and his war madness personally: how he had savagely carved through the Nephelim Army; how he speared Absolom's foot and, taking the opening given by his screaming opponent, had grabbed his throat and squeezed. How he burned Absolom's body with blue fire while the nephelim was still alive, fighting for breath…
Having previously been granted the rank of Power of the Moon, after the death of Aglibol, it had then been given another pair of ashen silver wings and the rank of Dominion, this time over the Stars themselves, as a reward for their act of barbarity.
Back then, Mitzrael's feelings were already conflicted over the angel, mostly due to his detached personality more focused on academics than knighthood, a concept that she, back then, had taken to heart a bit too fervently. Seeing such an undignified duel had been abhorrent to her and afterwards she proceeded to distrust him further.
Yet, it was undeniable that the calm façade the angelic figure portrayed, the detached silver gaze, white cascading hair, androgynous figure and superior height, gave a semblance of royalty that enticed the viewer. If anything, his governance over the Moon was nothing if not a spot on manifestation of their entire being.
It was, however, during the Breaking of Creation that Rannael had shown their ambition. The opening of the Multiverse had also opened a great many opportunities and Rannael did not hesitate in taking the Throne of the Cosmos from under Kosael, who had been kept busy elsewhere taking care of the dimensional breeches that were opening in the Garden. The Conclave, busy as it was, could do nothing but exile Rannael over the plot since they needed every one they could to handle that new catastrophe. They couldn't even give the Throne back to Kosael since the divine power over the Cosmos had taken a bafflingly genuine liking to Rannael and it did not want to go back to its previous wielder.
And yet, not all of Mitzrael's feelings were of a negative nature. She was in awe, still, on how Rannael acted in the events that followed the Breaking. They had sacrificed their own body to the Cleansing Fires and destroyed their own Empyrean flesh just to continue serving Heaven… It was the type of dedication that she greatly admired in her fellow angels. After that display of devotion, she had decided that whatever ambitions Rannael had were not of her interest, so long as they kept serving the Silver City as dutifully as they had when they first entered the Kiln. Still, emotions were not rational, and she still was somewhat unnerved whenever his distant gaze would focus fully on her.
So, exile it was… to here.
To sum up their appearance very few words were needed: Rannael's fake body was a literal doll. If not for the gleaming silver armour and imposing weaponry, Mitzrael would think the angel would look like a life-sized Victorian porcelain doll. The physical manifestation of their rank, their wings, had been burned alongside their original body, but the spiritual mark still remained: six transparent wings that cycled between silver and white sprouted from their back. Their oddity was the four arms that came from their torso, one holding the silver spear, the other a shield and the other two were displayed on his front, their hands in the form of a pyramid with splayed fingers and thumbs on both hands touching and their palms wide apart. Not that the extra arms were a weird thing for angels… after all, Hofniel still remained with a falcon head on his body despite being able to change it or Acidael who was literal sentient slime given shape, or even Cassiel who had a halo made of literal space dust like his Dominion's rings. Above all, however, in her mind, nothing was as weird and unnerving as the Orphanim's true form.
Seeing them, Rannael saluted them both in the formal manner by their rank, careful in greeting Jehoel first as their superior and then her.
"And Hail to thee, Rannael of the Cosmos, Seated upon a Throne, Slayer of Absolom and Satrap of this Plane, may thine Darkness always be kept at bay." Greeted Jehoel first and she soon followed.
"See?" She immediately speaks after finishing her greeting. "I am not the only one who still greets people like that."
Jehoel chuckles and Rannael's vivid red porcelain lips twitch in amusement.
"Well, Rannael is almost as old as us. They can't be considered youth anymore."
"Sacrilege, oh Seraph. Age is just a number. I am only as old as I feel." The soft voice of Rannael intoned with a hidden laughter.
"Really? And how old do you feel?" She asks curiously.
Rannael's doll-like features set themselves in a sad grimace.
"Lately? Every year of my long life."
Welp, that was a mood killer as the youths of today say, she thought not hiding her own grimace.
"How many of the Court will be attending today?" She asks to break the silence that had quickly and unwelcomingly imposed itself.
"Only the higher-ranking ones." Jehoel spoke. "You, Rannael and Afravanel are the only Thrones in my Plane, and the only Cherubim, Athrael, is busy maintaining the quarantine. Badamel, Harut, Marut, Nithael, Helael, Hofniel, Cradaiel and Sinarel are all out there performing their duties. Phanuel, as an observer from the Silver City, will inevitably come to watch the proceedings. Penemue, Tariel, Eracel, Cadfael and Azrael are the ones that will be attending to represent their respective factions in my Court."
Rannael nodded slightly and dismissed the silver spear and shield, the objects fading softly with a glittering silver flash. Their first pair of arms, now unoccupied, crossed on their chest and one of their hands went to their chin, as they seemed to ponder over something.
"Is it because of a warning? From the Book?" They ask with a pensive look.
"Aye. That much I can already tell you." Jehoel confirms.
"I heavily dislike their brute force approach to my domain; their hosts seem none better for their… cooperation." Rannael admits as if thinking aloud. "Another reunion should be made, soon. If these parahumans are still around when a FPT happens, who knows how the scales will tip."
Jehoel grimaces and Rannael, not unkindly, makes a show of ignoring the seraph basically admitting that the event they were here to witness was indeed a Fixed Point in Time. There was a limit to how much you could prod/annoy this Seraph before you get thrown into the Sun.
Their new arrival came in a pair with two flashes of light. Eracel and Cadfael were the best of friends for as long she could remember. Both of them had two pairs of wings of almost undistinguishable shades of forest green and their mud-brown hair fell messily to their shoulders framing their teenage faces. One would almost think them twins, and they took immense delight in pretending to be just so, often changing places. This Plane of reality was their first assignment since leaving the Silver City so by that indication alone it was easy to ascertain that they were, indeed, quite young, possibly the youngest among them. However, they were also the most distinguished applicants that Jehoel's had gotten during the first candidacy contest they put for new members of his Court. Their curriculum was really good: they participated in the Great Games and won first place in the contests they entered, amazing scores in the Academy and five decades spent serving the Celestial Host earning them several promotions.
But although they were accomplished warriors, they had not seen the horrors of civil war or the many terrifying and deadly events that plagued the Silver City before and during the Breaking. So,in that sense they were naïve… they had solely experienced the three millennia of peace that begun with the end of the Breaking. All those events that she had experienced, that marked her, were but stories to them.
They were now experiencing their first true hurdle when dealing with their most important duty on this Earth (which was now being called Earth Bet after its inhabitants broke the dimensional walls with the help of the Shards, once again messing with the timeline of events. They weren't supposed to break them so early! They were not ready for the horrors that awaited them in between the sta-… well they were already dealing with one such horror, maybe they should take the hint, no?).
Anyway, to prove Jehoel's previous point the "twins", instead of raising their palm and saluting them, simply raised their hands and jointly monotoned an excited: "Yo."
She didn't resist the urge to facepalm.
Jehoel, the flaming dickhead, laughed a delighted cackle.
Rannael was no help either, for they simply grinned a foxy smile, looking at the "twins" with a amused look hiding in their eyes.
"And a Yo to the both of you as well Eracel and Cadfael, both Blessed with Virtue." Jehoel tittered as he tried to compose himself. "I must thank you for the levity that your presence brought to these old coots."
"Who are you calling an old coot, you hypocrite…" She muttered. "You are even older than me…"
"Oh, you know us…"
"… always ready for a laugh." The twins proclaimed in turns.
"So, we are curious on…"
"… why you called on us?" The twins then pointed at each other and smiled.
Jehoel kept his laughing grin as he responded.
"Ah, somewhat urgent matters I'm afraid, so of course I had to call you both so that things don't get too heavy."
"Ah, comic relief!" One twin said turning to the other in a faked shock.
"That we can do!" The other responded the other raising his indicator in the air in an imperious manner.
"Count on us, Captain!" They chorused saluting Jehoel in the way of mortals.
"I know you won't let me down." Said Jehoel, nodding self-assuredly.
It was when Rannael opened his mouth to say something when one more flash of light signaled the arrival of one more angel. When the group turned to look, there was not one but two angels come to join the group. One of them seemed annoyed and complained loudly.
"I still haven't gotten over how you figured out the silent and invisible teleportation before me, Penemue."
"Training and practice, dear Tariel, training and practice."
Tariel, in her red armour decorated with the skulls of the judged, flexed her storm grey wings and looked to Jehoel to greet him.
"Oi, Jehoel, is Azrael coming? I need to talk with that bonehead about new procedures to judge souls."
"Good day to you as well, Tariel of Judgement, Great Among the Angels, Reckoner of Souls. He is not here, but I imagine you need not wait for long." Jehoel nodded.
"Good morning, Jehoel of the Holy Fire." Said Penemue, who was dressed in a long purple dress with golden highlights that accentuated her curves. Her hair was hidden behind a veil and her eyes hidden behind a blindfold of the same textile as the rest of her clothes.
"Good morning, Penemue of the Written Word, Watcher of Creation, Leader of the Labbim. How are you adapting to your new duties?"
"They go well. Fastidious as this new Plane seems to be it does hold a certain charm."
"Indeed, it does." Says Tariel with a bloodthirsty grin. "Haven't had this much fun judging souls since the Breaking."
In that moment one more angel arrived without a sound or flash of light. By the cyan blue wings of the female figure, Mitzrael identified Phanuel, who had her sword sheathed in her belt. Her skin was tarnished bronze, her hair long, black and slightly curvy with a pair of a deep brown, almost black, eyes. Her armour was a work of art, seemingly alive, depicting scenes of the Great War that were moving about the armour like the figures there immortalized had their own will.
This time it was Jehoel who greeted first, with the common group greeting as the entire angelic cast bowed in respect. Though Jehoel was technically the highest ranking in the hierarchy of the Silver City, certain angels had higher prestige and/or more power, because of their accomplishments and/or Titles, and therefore should be treated with reverence despite their formal rank. Just as was the case with this particular being.
"All Hail Phanuel of The Presence, Greatest Among the Angels, Bearer of the Throne of Creation, Archangel of Truth, Rival of Belial. May the Light always shine upon thee." Jehoel raised himself from his bow after Phanuel gestured him to do so.
"And Hail to thee, oh Protectors of Creation, may thine Darkness always be kept at bay." The great angel responded greeting all those present in a single phrase. "Now please, let's do away with these formalities. This is not my Plane, as I am here as a simple observer, so I justly turn my automatic leadership given to me from my Titles to you, Jehoel, as you are the Wanax of this Plane."
"I thank you deeply, Lord Phanuel." Jehoel responded, doing a quick bow of gratitude. Politics bore Mitzrael, but even she could tell that Jehoel could have been put on the backfoot in his own Court if Phanuel had decided to enforce the powers that his Titles gave him and make Jehoel follow his lead instead.
"Ah, Penemue. How goes your duties in this new reality?" Phanuel asks as she notices Penemue's presence in the crowd.
"The mortal bureaucracy of this Plane needs updating and remodelling so I am currently busy whispering the right words in the right ears so that can change." Penemue responds. "Do you not come with Uriel?"
Phanuel shakes her head in the negative. "No, Uriel is busy waving her flaming sword about in some territorial dispute involving the roots of the trees in the Garden growing beyond their assigned metaphysical borders."
Mitzrael tries not to choke on her own spit at such a casual mention to one of the most powerful entities in Creation waving its flaming sword about like they were talking about the local guardian angel.
"And now, we are only missing two of us." Whispers Rannael, who stayed at her side despite the new arrivals.
"Ah, Rannael!" Phanuel exclaims. It seems their whisper wasn't quiet enough. "I haven't seen you since the Breaking. Did you know that Sariel has taken over your duties as Power of the Moon?"
"Yes, my lord." Rannael speaks, clearly grinding their teeth together like they were mill stones. "My own duties as Throne of the Cosmos warned me of my… replacement."
"Yes, well we couldn't have an angel have such reach over the higher spheres, like you had when you held governance both over the Moon and the Stars. Especially, after you obtained more power over something that was not yours to begin with." Phanuel speaks slowly. "Maybe, perhaps, that served as a lesson, to not reach too high… no?" The Archangel eyes Rannael's doll body up and down pointedly.
Rannael seemed ready to summon back their spear and declare a duel right then and there. Several of the younger angels were already clearing the way as they saw the situation degenerate. Mitzrael herself was giving space to the quarrelling angels. Phanuel might be more revered as one of the Four Angels of the Presence but he was still just an Archangel who just had powerful Titles, actually between the other three Angels of the Presence and the Seven Prime Archangels, Phanuel was probably only of middling power and good skill at arms. Rannael, however, was a Throne holding a powerful Title that gave them domain over the entire Cosmos, exceptionally talented with both sword and spear and famous for killing a being that had given Camael, the Archangel of War himself, trouble in the battlefield. Interestingly, just like Phanuel had a rivalry with Belial, a King of Demons, so did Rannael had a rivalry with their hellish counterparts in the form of Stolas, Prince of Demons, that formed when they started taking their duties as Power of the Moon far more seriously than Aglibol ever did.
"Now, no-" Jehoel's attempt at cooling the rising tempers was interrupted by the silent apparition of Azrael right in the middle between Phanuel and Rannael.
The Angel of Death took one look at the people around him, checked the mood they had and…
"I can see you are all busy. I'll come back sometime later."
Azrael made to move only for Tariel to quickly bridge the space between her and Azrael and grab the multilimbed and multi-winged psychopomp by the scruff of the neck.
"Oh no, you don't! I need to know the guidelines for Gray Boy victims!"
"I- what? They are not dead! There's no procedure and no guidelines!"
"What?! We are not leaving the mortals trapped in time under torture!"
"Then that's not with me! Go speak with Remph, he's the one whose domain is Time!"
"But we can't undo the time bubbles, you bonehead, that counts as interference!"
"Then what do you propose!?"
"We take their souls! No mortal will ever notice!"
"Isn't that interference too?"
"Actually…" Penemue interjected, making the two angels of the Afterlife look to her. "Gray Boy's time bubbles shall not dissipate until even after this reality's sun collapses. Currently, no known Shard power interacts positively against the time bubbles and even if it there is one, no powers exist yet to cure the tortured victims quickly enough for them to survive being unpaused in time. Taking their souls, thereby making them leave their mortal coil in peace, seems the most merciful answer in these unusual circumstances."
The crowd looked back to Jehoel, who just seemed relieved nobody was going to fight, expecting an answer from the seraphim.
Suddenly understanding why everyone was looking at him, Jehoel quickly gave his directive.
"Just so. Penemue's correct; our job is to protect Creation, leaving these people to suffer is an abomination to our creed and an utter failure of our duties." He looks to Azrael who, despite being very, very old, squirmed a bit in his place feeling like an unruly child. "You, Azrael of Death, Seated Upon a Throne, Peaceful Reaper and Brother to Samael the Accuser, shall heed my command. You shall coordinate your efforts with Tariel of Judgement and reap the souls of those trapped in time by the parahuman known as Gray Boy, then you shall lead them to the Halls of Judgement so they can be processed into their respective Afterlife's. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord." Azrael's three of his four pairs of arms linked their hands in thanks and the grey hooded angel of Death looked, surprisingly, not very put out about the whole ordeal. He flexed his six brownish wings and went to Rannael's side nodding at the cosmic angel in greeting.
"Now, with all the distractions out of the way. There is a reason why I called upon you all here today." Jehoel begins. "The Book of Fate has decreed that here, in Persia in the locality by the name of Marun, an event shall happen that will be a Fixed Point in Time."
This elicited various gasps of surprise from all but she, Rannael and Phanuel.
Jehoel extended his right hand forward and with a purple flash a large leather book with a cover as black as night appeared in his hold. The Book of Fate automatically opened to the page that Jehoel desired and he read aloud for the angels around him.
"A great behemoth shall be born from man's desire and set Persia ablaze with its precious oil as fuel to the fire. One of three or one of six, the timing will matter; but they all will bring chaos into the mix."
"Troublesome." Mutters one of the twins.
"Meddlesome." Whispers the other.
"Whatever it is…" Says Rannael loudly. "It's starting." They point towards the oil field with both of their right hands.
It took a part of a second for Mitzrael's mind to understand what was happening. Only when she noticed the swaying buildings and oil drills down on the ground did she figure out that there was a rather violent earthquake happening.
The angels were mute as time passed. The earth quickly caught fire when the destroyed oil drills blasted their resource onto the ground and its spilled contents were lit by the electricity cables from the auxiliary buildings that were broken by the shakes. A rather large scar crossed the industrial area, the earth falling into itself as the deep pockets of oil deep underground collapsed creating large sinkholes across the place.
Screams were heard of the few thousand workers who were now stuck on a poor imitation of Hell on Earth made their suffering known. There were far more people there than usual for they were caught changing between night and morning shifts and by the end there would be far less than ever before.
It was only a matter of a quarter of an hour when the earthquake subsided, and the screams turned to cries for help, when the local Heroes started to show up to bring relief to the survivors.
The angels kept their silence as they noticed the four heroes who were becoming famous in America also show up in a flash of teleportation and immediately started helping those on the ground. Eidolon, as he was called, went to put out the fires, with the mortal woman Alexandria lifting rubble to free those beneath it. Legend, the one that Mitzrael indirectly met that one day in Boston when she decided to mingle with the mortals, immediately started coordinating the parahumans that were trickling in to help. Hero, the parahuman with technological powers, stayed put consulting something on his datapad.
"Hum… Guys?" Mitzrael's concentration was broken by Tariel's voice, softer than she ever heard before. "What in the Blind Eternities is that?"
She looked to the red angel and immediately directed her eyes to where Tariel was pointing. It looked… It was a quickly approaching dot on the horizon. What?
It was humanoid… it was titanic… Her mind quickly brought flashbacks to the Purge of the Nephelim. She… Why are they here? Did one of them survive? Why show up now? Why-
A cool hand on her shoulder.
"It is not one of them." Rannael's calm voice whispered in her ear, resonating though her mind and quickly ending her panic attack. "Look closer."
Taking a deep breath, Mitzrael put her powers to use and looked closer.
Indeed, it was not a Nephelim, for though he was titanic he was actually smaller than a common Nephelim. More differences started showing as her mind calmed down and caught up with reality. The one red, glowing eye was the clearest proof of what it wasn't since Nephelim always had two eyes or more, Absolom, their leader and one of the most powerful, had had three eyes a biological difference to mark his status. And though it looked humanoid the quickly approaching abomination didn't look human, the thing seemed made of rock and lava with gray, leathery skin, it also looked deformed with too much fake muscle, large horns around his body, especially the head like a mane, and a large mouth with sharp animalistic teeth and an ungraceful towering gait, so different from the unnatural attractive grace of the Nephelim.
She turned to look at Rannael, who she noticed was using their own powers by the fact that one of their eyes were closed, and she nodded in gratitude. Rannael nodded back and turned to look at the approaching beast. Doing the same, she paid attention to what her empowered mind was telling her: the behemoth that the Book of Fate talked about was this thing.
By the time the busy heroes noticed the monster it was too late.
The Behemoth was the first to attack immediately killing a large group of heroes by simply activating some type of killing field, perhaps with radiation? Or simply raising temperatures? Her mind quickly started to divine the beast's powers even as the thing was using them.
Whatever the case, the Heroes reacted, despite their surprise.
A fight ensued.
Ω
"Well, that was… horrifying."
Cadfael announced, crestfallen, as he surveyed the battlefield.
Rannael, despite Cadfael's tone of voice, agreed. The previous burning earth of the oil field was reduced to a pit of radiated magma and the survivors that hadn't been initially saved had been reduced to ash.
Many of the Heroes who attacked the Behemoth died. At least 6 in 10 of those present had died and perhaps of those that survived many would be poisoned with radiation for the rest of their lives. However short those lives would be. The parahumans that were wounded were being transported by flyers to a make shift clinic far away from the battlefield.
Rannael located Eidolon who too was surveying the battlefield focusing on the hole that the Behemoth excavated to escape the fight.
They felt their own eyes narrow as their mind churned in thought.
"The Book of Fate seems to have grown even more complicated." Voiced Jehoel in clear horrified tones. Rannael broke his stare to look disbelievingly at the terrified seraphim.
"What?" Penemue exclaimed in shock, quickly moving to consult the Book just as Phanuel started doing the same.
After a moment of the three angels paging through the Book's records it was Phanuel who broke the silence with an uncharacteristic monotoned "Fuck." He seemed so dismayed that Rannael didn't had the energy to needle him for such a break in decorum.
"Whatever that thing is, it's messing heavily with the Book's predictions, even more than before." Penemue told the rest of the angels. "The last time such a deviation occurred in one of the Books…"
"Yes." Rannael bit out. "We are all aware of the Breaking, Penemue." He turned to stare at Phanuel. "I hope reinforcements are coming?"
Phanuel seemed to dry swallow. "I shall call my own host to come. As for the rest… I'll see what I can do. As I said Uriel is busy, but unfortunately, so are the rest of the Silver City's elite members."
"I know Mikhael personally; I consider him a friend. Perhaps if I travel there and talk with him…" Jehoel spoke to Phanuel who just shook his head despondently.
"Mikhael is, perhaps, the busiest of them all. Gabriel is making sure some of the more… fantastical realities are under control. Raphael is beyond pissed, for some reason, and seems to be concentrating his healing powers in some war on the far ends of the Multiverse. Metatron is M.I.A. and has been since the Breaking, as you all know. Remiel is still in self-imposed exile from the drama with his twin, the Fallen Ramiel, and Barachiel is on one of the Earth's currently reminding some of the Fallen that with thunder comes lightning." Phanuel shakes his head again and continues. "Lailah has taken control of the Silver City's clinics after Raphael went away. Abaddon has taken an army and is currently marching against an Outsider who has invaded one of our realities. Unfortunately, for us that is, Raziel, Haniel and Abdiel have gone with him. Camael couldn't resist and went with them, as well; if we are able to convince this crisis will devolve into a better fight, he might change course and come to us, but I doubt it. Outsiders are a rare prize nowadays. The Archangel Jophiel, in turn, is still doing his job as a judge of the incoming souls. Zadkiel and his host are perhaps our only hope but the last I heard Mikhael was thinking of sending them to reinforce Barachiel."
"We are fucked then." Eracel despairs with his arms in the air. Then he stops his dramatic waiving only to point at Azrael. "You! Can't you just – I don't know – kill them with a touch?"
Azrael immediately takes offense. "How many times do I have to say this to get through your thick skull? I am an Angel of Death! Not Death herself! I am a simple psychopomp! My job is to lead souls to their respective Afterlife's after they are already dead not make them dead in the first place!"
"Yeah, sadly for us you are not your brother." Mutters Cadfael, loudly enough so that Azrael could hear.
"OH, YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!"
At this point Rannael mentally disconnected from the ensuing discussion and went back to surveying the earth beneath them. They noticed that the four leaders of the Heroes were all also in deep discussion, with Hero being the more animated of the bunch as he kept babbling about the readings his machines got from the Behemoth. They kept eavesdropping on their conversation even as they tried, keyword being tried, to keep half an ear to the angels going at it right next to them.
Interesting, thought Rannael as they kept hearing the discussion below. Then they change their focus towards the arguing angels and pondered. If we cannot find help from our brothers and sisters, perhaps our… acquaintances down below might be willing to help. For a price… always for a price.
They looked back towards the four heroes only to blink in mild surprise.
The female one was looking right at them.
A fluke?
They flex their wings, to divert attention from the quarrelling angels, and…
She looks back at them.
Interesting…
Only Saints are supposed to be capable of seeing and communicate with beings at a higher stage of existence. Only Saints… and those touched by Death. But she doesn't look like she is close to dying, quite the opposite in fact.
They feel a smile coming to their face.
They put their indicator next to their lips to say for the mortal to keep their silence.
The Library of Alexandria nods almost unnoticeably.
Maybe they can speak with each other in secret sometime later.
After all, if reinforcements are not coming it is better to seek cooperation with the natives than jump straight to get help from the Demons.
As he watched Mitzrael, her black curly hair swaying in the wind, trying to calm the twins and Azrael, all while Tariel made fun of those three, they found that they couldn't dismiss their smile.
This exile was already promising to be interesting… now it keeps getting better.
A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this One-Shot.
Kudos if you did. Comment to tell me your thoughts!
This is not a Crossover! The basic setting of the Lore is of course taken from abrahemic traditions, in case of the Angels (some of the names are invented by me; some are real, if you are interested just go to Wikipedia, I did - I ended in one of those late night dives into the site and welp... -) All the multiversal Lore is original altough I ended up making a reference to Darksiders (Absolom), from MTG (Tariel is a card from the game and the Outsider was going to be an Eldrazi but I changed it) and from Angelarium (there was no Angel of Time that I could find except Remph, plus no Angel of the Moon except Sariel; also Penemue's look and Title is also inspired by their amazing artwork - Go check it out!). A Court is basically the company branch of the Silver City, and therefore its rulling council called the Conclave, assigned to watch over a certain Multiversal cluster (a number of realities that stem from the same branching path). Also if you noticed that the other Throne Afravanel is missing from the meeting? That is on purpose. Background sheningans is happening which might be expanded upon if this ever goes beyond a one-shot.
About the formal greetings, except for group greetings, it's "Name - Domain - Hierarchy Rank - Main Title - Planar Rank (If they have one) - Secondary Title 1 (If they have one) - Secondary Title 2 (If they have one) - etc." The lower ranking always greets first and ends the greeting with something along the lines of "Light shine upon thee" and the greeted ends with something along the lines of "Darkness keep away" (the ending depends on minor cultural stuff). For the one outside of normal angel rankings, like the Watchers, it's finnicky for it depends on the power dynamics in the moment, if there's too many complications they just default to how many Titles one has over the other. [For the Prime Archangels (Mikhael; Gabriel; Raphael; Uriel; Zadkiel; Camael; and Jophiel), who have the Title of "Listener of the Voice of Creation" and so are the Angels of the Presence (Mikhael; Gabriel; Raphael; and Phanuel) who have have the Title of "Bearer of the Throne of Creation". These are all Archangels but they are always greeted first, no matter who stands on the other side.]
For how to adress Hierarchical ranks:
1-Highest orders:
Seraphim - "Seraph Among the Servants"
Cherubim - "Who Bless the Servants"
Thrones - "Seated upon a Throne"
2-Middle orders
Dominions - "Lord Among the Servants"
Virtues - "Blessed with Virtue"
Powers - "Blessed with Power"
2-Lowest orders
Principalities - "Prince Among the Servants"
Archangels - "Great Among the Angels" / "Greatest" (In case of certain Archangels)
Angels - "Servants of Creation"
For the Angel categories not directly part of the Hierarchy:
Orphanim - "Pilar of Creation"
Watchers - "Watcher of Creation"
Cherubs - "Children of the Servants"
Also, first time writing a They/Them character, if I missed a pronoun, my bad. Angels don't have genders or they can choose which one they want because canonically to abrahamic traditions they did have sex with mortal women.
Now, did I spend what little free time I had writting this one-shot instead of writting another chapter for The Inevitable Violence? Yes. Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Also, yes.
Love ya'll, I hope you have a great day!