Prologue
Thousands of years ago, a monumental war was waged throughout the heavens, hells, and all in between. The great division of the three powerful factions of the Judeo-Christian Pantheon. The Angels, the pure white-winged devotees of God. The Devils, cast away their heavenly light, choosing instead to follow Lucifer into Hell's Abyss. Lastly, the angels strayed from God's grace, indulging themselves with their earthly desires as they fell. The clash between these groups would become known as the Great Biblical War, leaving a trail of death and destruction that would forever reshape our reality.
This war would have no winners. The Angels, grief-stricken by the death of God, struggled to find a way to continue His teachings and maintain order in His absence. The Devils, too, were thrown into disarray, teetering on the edge of civil war after the death of their four mighty Maou, and the extinction of their race ever closer. Yet, amid this chaos, one faction emerged battered, but not broken: the Fallen Angels and their Grigori. Led by the former Archangel Azazel, the Grigori had withdrawn from the conflict before its conclusion, seeking refuge and stability in their decision to abandon the battlefield. However, not all within the Grigori ranks were content with this retreat.
Cadre Class Fallen Angel, Kokabiel. His bloodlust and hunger for violence remained unquenched by the Grigori's withdrawal. No longer able to rampage across the front lines of battle, Kokabiel turned his savage attention to the mortal world, wreaking havoc across the small villages and cities of the human world. It is here that we find the start of our story, with the demise of one such village, and the fate of one maiden.
Hyoudou Shiori awoke early, as she always did. The gentle song of the birds filled the air as the soft light of dawn filtered in through the thin paper walls. Stretching her arms above her head, she took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the crisp morning breeze drifting through her slightly open window. The lingering scent of incense from the night before still clung to the air, mingling with the fresh smell of pine from the surrounding woods. With a yawn, Shiori wiped the sleep from her eyes and slid out of her covers, the cool wooden floor beneath her feet grounding her in the calm of the early hour. She savored the peace, but her morning rituals still awaited her. Without hurry, she rose and moved towards the door, her footsteps each soft and measured, ready to greet the new day with her usual gentle grace.
The whole village had been abuzz in recent days, preparing for the upcoming autumn festival, a time of celebration for the harvest. Shiori's thoughts lingered on it as she knelt before the small altar of the shrine, her hands moving fluidly as she arranged offerings of flowers and produce from the previous day. The villagers had already begun their preparations, weaving wreaths and preparing food in anticipation of the festival just a few days away. There was an air of excitement, and though the festival was still some days off, it had already colored the mood of the entire village.
With a delicate hand, Shiori lit a fresh stick of incense, watching as the thin wisps of smoke curled upwards, twisting about lazily before dispersing into the air. The soft scent filled her surroundings once more, wrapping her in a familiar warmth. She closed her eyes and murmured her prayers, offering gratitude for the peaceful land she was blessed to live in and for the beauty around her. She prayed for a bountiful harvest, and for a celebration that would bring joy towards the entire village. Her head lowered into a deep bow as she finished, her forehead gently touching the cool ground.
After finishing her morning prayers beneath the great cherry trees outside the shrine, Shiori rose, brushing off the faint dust that had settled on the hem of her already-donned shrine maiden robes. The soft fabric had shifted slightly during her time kneeling, so she tugged gently at the collar and sleeves, smoothing them back into place. A sudden, faint gust of wind rustled the cherry blossoms above, quick and fleeting, before vanishing as though it had never been. Shiori barely noticed as the light breeze that followed caught her robes, billowing them around her legs as she stood under the canopy of pink blossoms. Petals drifted down like snow, catching in her hair and on her shoulders. She smiled softly, tilting her head back to watch them float gingerly through the air. The world around her was so quiet, so peaceful, as though the cherry trees themselves were offering their blessings for the day ahead.
The village, nestled within a lush valley surrounded by dense forests and rolling hills, was bathed in the golden light of the morning. Thin wisps of mist still clung to the rooftops, slowly evaporating as the warmth of the sun spread throughout the air. The path leading from the shrine into the village was flanked by large cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering down to the ground gently like soft pink snow. Shiori stood at the peak of this path, her caramel brown hair dancing in the wind as she began her trek into town.
The village below had only just begun to stir, the first signs of life appearing as smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily into the sky. Shiori made her way down the worn stone steps, her sandals clicking lightly against the path. She could hear the soft bleating of goats in the distance, mingling with the rhythmic thud of hammers from the blacksmith's shop and the low murmur of villagers beginning their day. She was a familiar presence here, her calm demeanor and kind smile as much a part of the village as the ancient trees that surrounded it.
As Shiori approached the village proper, a familiar voice called out from the market stalls.
"Good morning, Shiori-chan!" The hoarse voice of Tanaka, one of the village's elderly farmers, drew her attention. He was already busy setting out his produce, though his gnarled hands moved a little slower with each passing year.
Shiori turned toward him with a bright smile. "Good morning, Tanaka-san!" she greeted warmly, making her way over to his stand. She knelt beside him, instinctively starting to help arrange the vegetables in neat rows. "The crops look beautiful today! It seems like everything is thriving this season."
Tanaka chuckled, his weathered face wrinkling into a smile. "Ah, that's thanks to your prayers, I'm sure. The gods are smiling on us this year."
Shiori shook her head gently, a modest laugh escaping her lips. "I think your hard work has more to do with it than my small offerings. You've been doing this far longer than I've been alive."
"Maybe so," Tanaka mused, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye. "But a little divine favor never hurt anyone, right?"
She laughed softly. "I'll keep praying, just in case."
After bidding Tanaka farewell, Shiori continued down the market street, the air filled with the scents of fresh bread and sizzling meats. Several village women were gathered around a stall, preparing food for the upcoming festival. They waved her over with broad smiles.
"Shiori-chan! Just in time!" one of the women called out, her hands coated in flour. "We could use your help over here!"
Shiori joined them, rolling up her sleeves as she knelt by the dough. "You all seem to be working hard this morning. How are the preparations going?"
"Busy, busy," replied a plump woman with flour dusting her apron. "But we'll be ready in time for the festival. I swear this year will be the best one yet!" She elbowed Shiori playfully. "If you're not too busy with your shrine duties to come enjoy it, of course."
Another woman, a younger mother with a child clinging to her skirts, grinned at Shiori. "You're always so busy helping everyone else, Shiori-chan. Don't you ever take a break?"
Shiori brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly. "I enjoy being useful. It doesn't feel like work if it makes others happy."
The young mother laughed. "That's just like you. Always so selfless."
The child at the woman's side tugged shyly at Shiori's robe, peeking up at her with wide eyes. Smiling, Shiori crouched down and plucked a small daisy from the nearby grass, offering it to the little girl.
"Here," Shiori said gently. "A flower for you."
The girl's face lit up as she accepted it, her tiny hands clutching the daisy as though it were a treasure. A quiet smile spread across Shiori's lips as she stood again, her heart warmed by the simple gesture.
As the sun climbed higher, something in the air began to change. A sudden gust of wind swept through the village, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down Shiori's spine as the air almost grew thicker. At first, it was subtle—a lull in the usual sounds, a faint tension that Shiori couldn't quite place. The birds grew quieter, their melodies replaced by a distant, unfamiliar whooshing. Shiori paused, her hands stilling over the basket of sweets she had been helping to prepare. She glanced up toward the mountains, her brow shifting in confusion. The sky had darkened slightly, though there was no sign of rain. The peaceful atmosphere that had blanketed the village all morning now seemed fragile, as though it could shatter at any moment.
A loud crack of wind tore through the veil, so distant at first it was almost imperceptible before flying through the entire market. Shiori's brow furrowed further as she glanced toward the mountains. The noise grew steadily louder, like thunder on a clear day, unnatural and jarring. Her heart clenched in her chest as an eerie silence settled over the village, the birds no longer singing, the rustle of the trees stilled. All that remained was the ever-louder cracking of the wind, its speed increasing further and further as the noise grew louder and louder.
Suddenly, the wind calmed. The air filled with quiet as the breeze died, the cherry blossoms hanging in the air longer than usual.
And then came the screams.
It ripped through the air, sharp and filled with terror, breaking the fragile stillness like glass shattering. Sharp, panicked cries erupted from the outskirts of the village, followed by the unmistakable sound of mayhem. Shiori's heart lurched as she stood frozen, slowly turning to the source of the noise. Her breath halted, her mind racing as she looked off into the distance. She could see a swarm of figures scrambling in the distance. Villagers ran by her left and right as the swarm seemed to almost swallow up everyone in contact. Their bodies fell with a speed she didn't know was possible.
Shiori's stomach twisted as realization dawned. The peace she had known her entire life was fracturing before her eyes, crumbling under the weight of the approaching danger. Without hesitation, she turned and ran toward the shrine, her sandals pounding against the earth, her mind racing. The village was under attack, and her cherished life was about to be torn apart.
As Shiori sprinted back toward the shrine, the chaos around her deepened. The once peaceful village was unraveling. Screams echoed in the air, accompanied by the harsh clamor of homes and stalls being torn apart. The wind whipped fiercely around her, carrying with it the scent of smoke and fear. Her feet moved swiftly, sandals slapping against the uneven ground as she darted between the villagers, trying to guide some toward safety.
"Please, head for the forest!" she cried, her voice trembling as she reached out to a woman clutching a crying child. "You'll be safe there, go!"
The woman hesitated, her wide eyes barely able to fix on Shiori, but she grabbed her child in a haze nonetheless, running to the woods. Shiori turned to another group, motioning frantically for them to follow the mother. But there was no time to linger. The swarm of invaders was relentless, cutting through the village like a force of nature, and her duty lay with the shrine—her home, her sacred ground.
Her breath came in short bursts, her heart pounding not just from the exertion but from the fear creeping into her chest. She could hear the devastation behind her, the sounds of the village being torn apart by forces she couldn't comprehend. But she kept running. She had to protect the shrine.
As she approached the worn stone steps leading up to the shrine, her pace slowed. Something was wrong. The air felt thick, unnatural, and heavy with a dark energy that pressed against her skin like a weight. Her steps faltered, dread twisting her insides. She forced herself to climb, her hand trembling as she gripped the railing.
When she reached the top, her heart froze.
Standing in front of the shrine, bathed in the sickly light of a darkening sky, was a figure unlike any she had ever seen. Tall and gaunt, with ten raven-black wings unfurled, the figure exuded a malevolent presence that chilled her to the bone. His dark scarlet eyes gleamed, cold and merciless, as they fixed on her. His expression was one of amusement, a twisted smile dancing across his lips as though her very presence was an amusing inconvenience.
Shiori's breath caught in her throat. The wind stilled around them, the world growing eerily silent as they stood locked in that moment. And then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Kokabiel's smile deepened.
And Shiori's world went black.
A/N: OK I cannot lie, I was not a fan of the previous prologue even when I was actively writing these older chapters. So as the start of the story both chronologically and in terms of quality I'm quite happy I was able to get the rewrite out decently quickly. As future chapters will be a little longer, don't expect them to come out quite this quickly. Regardless, thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy the rewrite of the story as it continues!
Much Love,Petra