Reaper brought the great scythe, her legendary weapon, above her head as Metatron stretched his broad wings out behind him, giving her a clear shot. Her muscles tensed, hoping he would stop her, but he did not. Metatron would not stop her, she knew it.

Reaper brought the scythe down.

The blade sank into Metatron's great white wings; tearing through the feathers, the skin, the muscles and the bone.

In one swift arc, Reaper had sliced off his wings.

"Argh!" Metatron screamed in pain as the world exploded before his eyes. His vision blurred, his stomach lurched and his body seized in agony.

The ground fell out from beneath his feet and he was swept away, away through space, through time. Gone from Heaven, not yet on Earth, Metatron was falling from somewhere in between. He couldn't think, he couldn't breath; he could only feel the crushing, searing pain. His mind and body were ripped through planes of existence as he went through the hellish transubstantiation, unknowingly falling from Heaven.

Thud.

Metatron was shaking violently. As an angel, his body had been solid muscle; all seraphim were given immense strength to make them great warriors. Metatron convulsed in pain as new bones and organs were carving through him, making room for lungs, a stomach, a true beating heart.

Metatron was unaware of anything beyond himself. He whimpered like a child, tears leaked from his now hazel eyes.

He stayed on the ground, breathing hard, his new human instincts warning him not to move, urging him to stay put until it was safe. He lay there for minutes, trying to become stable.

Slowly, Metatron opened his eyes. "Argh! No, no, stop!" he shouted.

The sun was painfully bright, the noise around him painfully loud. He cried out and covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut against it all.

His body curled reflexively, and he trembled.

Metatron was still for a few more moments before trying again. He was in pain and very afraid, but he knew that he mustn't lay there forever, he still had Eve to take care of.

Carefully and even more slowly, Metatron opened his eyes and loosened the hold over his ears. "Ah," he gasped. The new senses hurt, his whole body was still shaking from the agony of being alive.

Metatron had been one of the Lord's most formidable warriors; in the Great War between Lucifer and God, he had taken on both demons and renegade angels and lived to remember it.

He had overcome the devil, he could overcome this.

If the pain doesn't kill me, I'm sure my pride will. He said to himself, one of the only coherent things he could manage to think of.

Being alive was terrible. He felt nauseous. Metatron coughed hard as he sat up. His whole body was sore, as if his skin had been rubbed raw.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Metatron looked around for the source of the noise, but all he could see was green grass and blue sky in every direction. He put a hand to his chest and felt the beating of his new heart.

"Your pain shall pass." Came a thundering voice.

Metatron clamped his hands over his ears again and trembled. The voice had startled him, but it was familiar...

"Stand to look upon me!"

Metatron looked up and could see a figure, silhouetted against an amber light. He got to his feet, though it was a great effort, he felt his knees might collapse.

The figure came closer, the last person he expected to see.

"Amora?" he said.

Amora, a female seraphim and one time lover of Metatron, came forward. Her blonde hair flowed in loose waves down to her shoulders, her fully blue eyes held Metatron's gaze. Her presence overshadowed him completely. For the first time, he looked at another angel and felt a sense of awe.

Amora was a beautiful, terrifying creature. No wonder the humans were always afraid of him whenever he first appeared!

"Yes, it is me."

"Why are you here?"

Amora folded back her great wings. "I had to see it to believe it." She said with a sly smile.

Metatron's pain was easing back all the while, he was starting to feel all right again, and so he allowed himself to play with her a bit. Just like old times.

"You sound like one of them, needing to see something to believe it's true." He said, meaning the humans.

Amora quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't you mean I sound like one of 'us'?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Then you've really done it. You are a mortal man?" she asked.

Metatron frowned at her question and then reached a hand down into his pants.

"I am now." He smiled.

"Good for you." Amora said as she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Where were you hoping to go?"

"To Eve, the last scion. But I don't know where I am now. Where are we?" Metatron asked as he looked around.

"The African Serengeti."

"Oh. Quite a ways away from Leonardo, eh?"

"Quite. I'll take you there now, Metatron."

"You would?" He asked, surprised.

"Of course. Angels do not abandon the mortals, you know that. They abandon us."

Metatron smiled as Amora clapped her hands twice, and they were gone.