Pilgrimage of Heaven

by Mundatorem

The kindness of a man who wished only to be normal. The determination of a man who wants only to better his race. The arrogance of one who dictates life. A boy who desires to live his ideal life. Stories of suffering and parting, stories of love and hope. They shall all converge on their pilgrimage that is life.

71. The Time of Isolation Hath Come: XVII

The Time of Isolation Hath Come

XVII

---

Issei was definitely going to get Kiba back for this, even if the blonde hadn't actually done anything.

But it was easier to get revenge for this on Kiba than it was to get revenge on the guy who pointed at him in the first place. Struggling to keep his face schooled and his posture even, all the while the finger of the Governor of the Grigori was firmly situated in his direction and - if he had been closer - would have been right between his eyes.

From the corner of his gaze he saw Kiba glance his way, there was a slight hint of sympathy in his eyes for what he was about to suffer. Issei made a mental note to curse him for not being able to see the future like Romani.

Then Issei cursed himself for not pulling Romani aside just to ask him about it.

It would have been worth a shot.

All of the thoughts took only a few seconds to shoot through his mind, all of which left him staring blankly into the room without actually anything holding his gaze.

With a blink, he looked back to Azazel and the smug face the man was wearing where he then offered a nervous grin and a look around the room. He really didn't want to know why he had suddenly been singled out - especially alongside the guy at the other end of the room - and he very much doubted he was smart enough to give an answer.

It was why he had hoped to remain at the back of the room with no one any the wiser that he was even there in the first place.

Apparently he wasn't allowed to just blend into the background though.

So, friend of Romani or not, screw that guy for putting him in the firing line of a dozen different super powerful people and one God who would now be judging him based on whatever answer he gave.

"Come on, we're all thinking it, right?"

Azazel carried on, heedless to the storm of emotions in Issei's head.

"Here stand the Red and White Dragon Emperors in the same room. First time that has happened without a fight for…well…as long as I can remember. Aren't we all the least bit curious as to what these two think about peace?"

The Fallen shifted in his chair, turning about and looking over his shoulder towards the teen against the wall.

"Eh? Vali?" The man prodded further, Vali giving no indication that he cared nearly as much about being called out like this as Issei. "What do you think about peace between the three factions? Does it hold any interest to you?"

Issei could hear the sly tone, the fact the man already knew what his answer was going to be but was just doing it to be annoying.

Did Vali have to deal with that all the time?

Damn, now he felt bad for the guy.

"All I care about is fighting the strong."

…Oh shit, nevermind. This guy sounded crazy.

"Alright then."

Issei looked at Azazel in naked shock. That was the answer he was expecting and was hoping he'd give? What the heck was wrong with people. The guy just admitted that he was looking to start a fight in the middle of some peace conference and Azazel was acting as if there was no problem at all?

With a turn of the head, Issei sent a not so subtle look to the strongest people in the room and then back towards Azazel, who either didn't notice or didn't care. Then he looked at Vali.

Vali, who had noticed Issei's movement and was now staring right at him.

The corner of his lip twitched up for a fraction of a second before it dropped down.

"About as reasonable as you can get from one of the Heavenly Dragons." Azazel grunted and then smirked. "But really, you don't need to fight a war to find yourself fighting the strong, do you? Devils have their rating games all the time and I'm sure - given how chummy everyone is - that you could probably work out something."

A beat passed, then the man snapped his fingers.

"Or, you know, there could be another chance to take a crack at Fabro. He's rather tough, isn't he?"

Vali only grunted dismissively, then stopped and closed his eyes. Apparently that was all he was really after-

Issei winced and looked away, raising his hands and stopping them just before they covered his ears. He wasn't quite so alone as the sharp whistle cut right across the room, at such volume that it was less like a whistle and more like the roar of a jet engine or anything like that. All he could compare it to was the dragon he'd fought.

"What the heck-!?"

The words slipped from his mouth, the noise abruptly cut out and he shifted his eyes to the man responsible.

Well, the God responsible.

Tezcatlipoca took his hands away from his lips, the two fingers that he blown against to produce the ear splitting noise. With a look that was utterly bereft of anything even resembling guilt or shame, the blonde dusted his hand down against his coat before turning his head and looking at Vali with a raised brow.

"Oi. Brat."

Vali turned his head ever so slightly towards the God as the only form of acknowledgement.

"You and me. Behind the bike sheds."

A slow blink, then Vali was squinting at the God as if he was staring at some weird puzzle that he wasn't quite sure of what to make of.

Issei was probably of the same mind, but he was more confused at the way everything had just suddenly changed over.

"Why you being all quiet?"

Tezcatlipoca continued, voice dangerously calm as he stepped away from the wall and turned fully to face the teen.

"Talking all about fighting strong people? Come on, lets you and me have a little tussle outside. I know you're still new to all of this so I'll go easy on you. Bet you've never even fought a God before so might as well make your first one memorable, right? Give you the old razzle dazzle."

His words sounded jokey.

His tone was anything but.

Issei shifted slightly and gulped, swallowing down the lump which was building up in his throat. Aggression that was not even directed at him and yet he could feel it spreading over his skin like a cold embrace. That Vali's only response was a slight tension in his features, a switch from lazy to serious, was a credit as much as it was as worrying.

Because it looked like he was actually considering-

"Enough."

The tension evaporated once again.

Azazel was standing now, having moved when Issei wasn't even looking, and had turned full to face the God.

The action drew the lazy eye of the blonde but little else.

"...That's sounding pretty close to giving me some sort of order there, crow."

Tezcatlipoca gave a dangerous smile as he moved away from Vali and stepped closer towards Azazel, the focus of the room shifted entirely onto the man. All the danger located on a single person.

"But go on then, why should I step back? It's the boy who's going around all but begging for someone to give him a hiding…So why should I not grant him his wish? I consider myself to be a fair man. He's got an honest wish there…Go on. Tell me not to do what he wants, eh?"

Azazel was silent for a moment, then he relaxed, shoulders hanging loose.

"It wouldn't be much of a fight and we both know it. You'd take him out back and tan his hide so bad we'd be staring at bone…He's not quite ready to fight someone of your calibre. Not far off but not quite…think of his words more like a promise to eventually come around if you can…"

There was a pause, then Azazel waved his hand in the direction of Vali.

"Or you can think of him as a hotshot who likes to run his mouth a lot without realising it."

Tezcatlipoca raised a brow. "And so you brought a guy spoiling for a fight to a peace conference?"

He sounded almost amused.

"We agreed to let you stay, didn't we?"

"Ha!"

A bark of laughter and the God stepped backwards, nodding his head slowly. With each action the tension bled from his body, the danger which once filled the room started to recede until it was all but gone. Replaced only with the jovial attitude of the God as if he hadn't been the one so close to starting a fight.

"Alright, I'll hand you that one. You slippery little bastard. But keep a close eye on your ward there…I'll treat those words as the careless slips of a tongue from some untested boy…but try to impress upon him the importance of watching his tongue."

A slow tilt of the head, his voice made it sound as if he was smiling.

"I'd hate to get rid of such…an interesting White Dragon Emperor. The next one would probably be boring…"

Vali grunted and folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "I'll stand by my words. Maybe we'll meet one another again in the future?"

"Oh?"

Azazel closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his lips.

Issei was worried it would start up again, so he stepped to the side slightly and moved just in front of Asia, but no further than that. The danger had been coming and going so swiftly that he was getting used to it. Or, well, getting used to reacting to it. At least enough that he was able to move without panicking all that much.

Tezcatlipoca hummed and nodded his head. "See you then, kid…I'm sure it would be a fun way of killing an afternoon."

Killing an afternoon, spoken with the same care as if he was looking for some sort of hobby.

Issei changed his mind, all of these guys were out of their damn minds. It was the single greatest thought as he shifted closer towards Asia and moved to cover her, not quite right before her but more than enough to give him some minor peace of mind. Only minor, he supposed as well.

"Perhaps…"

Michael's hands rose, held out flat towards both sides of the group and slowly lowered down, an effort to de-escalate.

"We might hear from the Red Dragon Emperor now, given that we come close to spoiling the peace we have nurtured here for nothing more than some traded barbs and promises of a scuffle."

Issei found himself nodding along with words he didn't quite understand.

But they sounded nice and calm and for him, that was enough.

The Haloed head of the Angel turned towards him, the attention felt less oppressing than the others, a gentle smile went a long way as well. Michael brought a hand towards him and inclined his head ever so slightly.

"Issei, if you would be so kind as to offer your own thoughts as to the prospect of peace. I would be grateful to hear of whatever insight you might have."

…Insight?

"...Uhm…"

Ah, yes.

Well done brain.

A real zinger for an opening line, with mouth open and eyes wide, he stood there gawking like an idiot, as if he had just been picked out to give an answer to a question. He glanced about the room and then winced. The pressure returned as the focus was now directed towards him entirely.

It was probably even worse than before, especially after whatever Vali had been doing over on the other side with him almost starting a damn fight in the room. Or him and that other guy nearly coming to blows. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say and he didn't want whatever he wanted to be taken as a trigger for a punch-up.

"I…uhm…"

He swallowed, bringing moisture for his dry throat.

"I'm not sure that I have much to say?"

That sounded like a question, damn.

He winced after a moment and cringed at his own unsure tone of voice, he quickly pulled himself up and held his arms flat at his side. Lips rolled inwards, he took in a breath and spoke in that single gulp of air.

"I'm just a Pawn so…yeah."

The room went quiet.

Issei could feel his hands turn clammy, he balled them into fists and desperately wished for people to stop staring at him with such expectant looks. He wasn't sure what they were even looking for in the first place.

Right, what would Romani do in this situation?

…

He had an image of Romani lying face down on the floor having passed out from stress.

…That probably wouldn't help.

"Hah!"

The bark of laughter drew his eyes, Azazel shook his head and moved for his seat once more, flopping down into the chair as though he was in his own home. He leaned forwards and propped his cheek up with his knuckles, grinning nearly from ear to ear.

"Maybe a bit of a change in the question?"

Issei would have raised a brow if he didn't feel a sense of foreboding.

"Hyoudou Issei."

Azazel's voice turned hard, he stiffened on instinct.

"If we were to enter war once more…Then you would never get the chance to sleep with Rias Gremory."

…Huh?

"What?"

"Brother…please…"

There was a thudding across the room, Michael had dropped his head into his hands and sat there with the first real emotion he had seen on his face throughout this entire ordeal.

But Issei was more transfixed on the words of the Grigori.

"What…?" He squinted at the man, trying to make sense of the terrible prophecy.

Azazel's smile sharpened but lost none of the width. "If we were to have war, you'd be on the front lines for a while…but if we are to have peace, then the immediate concern for the Devil race is propagation and revitalisation of the species."

The Fallen Angel shuffled and leaned forwards, his voice turned conspiratorial.

"I'm sure you can put two and two together from that, righ-?"

"Peace!"

Issei was shouting before he could even help it, like a rallying cry through his mind.

"I support peace!"

It was the only sensible choice.

There could be no other.

That not only would he have to fight against a bunch of crazy people but that he would also never have the chance to actually sleep with anyone was unacceptable. He could not allow something like that to happen. If the only thing that stood in the way between him and eventually getting laid was a bunch of pieces of paper that needed signing, then he would force the pens into the hands of each and every person in this room and drag their wrists across those 'sign here' marks.

His jaw clamped shut and he leaned back a little.

Raising a fist and coughing into it.

"I mean…Peace sounds good."

He wasn't prepared to turn around and look behind himself.

But he could hear Akeno-Senpai chuckling through what he assumed was a covered hand.

"...Well."

Sirzechs rumbled and turned his head to face Issei, raising a brow as he did so but keeping his face light and mirthful.

"I am glad to hear the young generation is so enthusiastic."

Issei felt himself flush a little and turned his head.

Ah, right.

Sirzechs was in the room, which was a little awkward.

He coughed again and straightened. "I mean. Peace keeps Buchou and the others safe and out of danger so it makes more sense. Definitely voting for peace on this one."

And also because he could have sex.

But also the friends thing.

They were probably equal in terms of importance to him, all things considered.

And speaking of his friends…He spied the blonde hair in the corner of his eye, turning slightly and looking down at Asia for a few moments. She stared back and tilted her head a little, looking up with a mixture of innocent confusion and amusement, perhaps from his earlier words.

Issei closed his eyes and took in a breath before he opened his mouth to speak once more.

"But…uhm…If I am being allowed to speak."

The lack of a rebuttal was permission enough for him to continue, his eyes opened once more and he turned towards Michael, taking a step forwards and away from the others. He remained firmly locked onto the gaze of the Archangel.

Michael only tilted his head and inclined it slightly, a small gesture for him to continue.

"Thanks." He voiced his gratitude for being allowed to speak. "...It's about Asia."

The face of the Angel did not so much as twitch, if only for a few moments. Then he closed his eyes and offered a saddened smile.

"I see. I shall assume that this is the cause for your slight resentment towards me when we first met."

Issei flinched for a brief second at having it thrown back in his face like that, he hadn't thought he was being so obvious towards the guy.

Michael opened his eyes, the smile long gone. "Please, continue. Ask your question freely, Hyoudou Issei. I shall answer it as best as I can."

"...Why was Asia exiled?"

He would not dance around the question any longer, he turned himself slightly and brought up a hand, gesturing towards the blonde behind him and briefly registering the slightly panicked gasp from her. He did not turn his head, but he could imagine the shock on her face as he just outright demanded an answer from the leader of Heaven.

It was probably a crazy thing for him to do, but it was not just an answer for his sake.

It was for the sake of Asia, who had never done anything wrong.

"She was - is - as faithful as they come. She's…she's a nice girl who only wants to help people so why…?"

A crime he could still not make sense of, for as happy as he was that she was here, that did not excuse in any way what she had gone through to come here. It didn't excuse anything and a part of him wished it had never happened to her in the first place, for it was far too cruel for her.

Michael raised his hands and locked them together, eyes turned downcast for a moment.

"The System of Heaven stands as the most important achievement for Father, that which he and Solomon forged with their own hands. It is truly what turned us into the beings that we are together..."

A long and exhausted sigh escaped the Angel, Issei watched as if years flowed out of him.

"And in the wake of Gods death…we lost control of so much of it. I managed to claim control of but a fraction of the entire system and even then…It is a struggle for me to keep it working even now. A system kept alive by the devotion of adherents, that which governs miracles and protection."

Michael looked at him with a sorrowful gaze.

"It is something which requires a cold heart from me at times. A poor excuse, I shall admit and a poorer comfort for those who have been cast out. Those who break the mould of the system threaten it entirely."

He felt the answer click to place in his hand, something cold and clinical.

"Asia could heal Devils."

Michael confirmed with a slow nod. "An accident which could throw into chaos everything that was known of Heaven and the Sacred Gears. Sowing seeds of doubt if it could be discovered that Twilight Healing held such abilities. In truth, it was a malfunction of the Sacred Gear system, already incomplete but exacerbated by the death of God."

"...So you had to get rid of her."

"I weighed the cost of her exile against keeping the system of Heaven afloat. It was not something I could justify. She is not the first to suffer from this and, I am sorry to say, she will not be the last."

Issei twitched a little and jerked his head back, this time in the general direction of Xenovia.

"Like her?"

Just behind Michael, he saw Irina abruptly stiffen, a haze of confusion crossed her face before she looked down at the back of Michael.

"...Yes." The confirmation came from the Archangel with only a slight pause. "The knowledge of God being deceased is…a terrible curse upon those who use the system of Heaven. It is akin to a poison, and thus we cannot allow anyone who knows of it to remain…and for that I am truly sorry."

Issei grimaced and looked down, then stared at his left arm.

"...So how come you can admit it now then?" He looked up and towards Irina this time, though he didn't mean anything against her. "I thought you weren't allowed to keep people around who knew that?"

Michael nodded his head. "Irina is…a special case for the time being, it is something that I shall explain soon. Believe me, if the possibility had been open at the time, then I can assure you that what transpired with Asia Argento would have been very different but…I can only beg your forgiveness for this failure."

Issei pointed to his left hand.

"And Ascalon?"

"Holy Relics are another matter and…It was an easier task to make you capable of wielding the blade, given the current circumstances."

Michael took a steadying breath.

"I know the names of every soul banished from the Grace of Heaven and I mourn them all. For as much worth as that is…"

Issei slowly shook his head and opened his mouth to reply.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and stopped him short, he turned and blinked.

Xenovia met his gaze with a shake of the head, then glanced past him towards Michael and stepped around him.

"I understand…I have served nearly all my life and devoted myself to you. The concept of sacrifice is one that I am familiar with and I do not resent you your actions…It is a comfort to know that they were not taken with malicious intent…But if it can bring you peace, I have found…happiness in my life as a Devil thus far, odd as it might be…and I am…overjoyed with the notion I will not have to do battle with old comrades."

Michael blinked slowly, then smiled with the relief of a man saved from drowning.

"I…"

Asia spoke up.

"I'm also…I'm also happy to be a Devil. I just want you to know that I do not hate you, Lord Michael and…I'm sorry you are forced to do such cruel things."

The Angel flinched at her words.

"...I am blessed to be spoken to with such kind hearted souls and…to be offered such soothing words is…a courtesy I am not sure I deserve but…I thank you, truly…And it is, perhaps, a terrible loss to Heaven that we could not hold you."

Issei was sure he might have grumbled something under his breath, but he didn't really hear himself.

…He was…

…At least it was closure for Asia, but that she suffered for something like that was just cruel.

It didn't make sense to him that Asia should be punished for something she could not control.

"Rest assured, Asia Argento and Xenovia Quarta. With this peace, you can once more call the Church and those who walk within its light your friends and comrades. That I can promise you."

Michael smiled.

"This peace…will truly change the world."

---

His boots left nary and indentation in the clouds as he stalked forwards, flanked on either side by his siblings in armour adorned with gold. Each with capes of flowing silk white.

Eyes narrowed, his hands pulled themselves into tight fists, so compact it was as though they would never separate.

Only when he stood before the great doors of gilded metal did he stop his march, the rumbling groan of moving metal as they parted and light bled into the realm of darkness and stars. Though he came not for sightseeing or enjoyment of any sort. His purpose was far more grave and put his mind on edge.

Sharp like a blade, in fact.

In the moment the doors, taller than he was by well over a double, were opened just wide enough to fit his body through, he pushed through them and ignored the muffled scrape of metal as he brushed against the frame.

"Broth-"

"Report."

Wasting no time with introductions to the first who greeted him, his words came out clipped as his helmet turned on them in an instant. The angel, Rogziel, with darkened red hair and velvet coloured eyes, jerked only for a moment before composing himself and bowing his head, stepping aside before spinning on his heel and marching forwards, words came tumbling from his mouth not a second later.

"It was a mild blip in our observations but it has grown in the last hour. I fear that there is a crack in the cells at the very base of the prison. I was arranging for a party to head down there the moment I alerted you."

Underlying tension was within every word as they moved through the halls, heading right for the very centre of the prison.

The central hub where every cell in the Lightless Bastille was monitored and observed, to ensure all those sentenced for eternity would never escape their confinement.

And he had been alerted that one of those cells might have been breached by an outside force.

If Michael were not away, he would have brought this to his attention immediately. Though Gabriel remained, as did Raphael, dragging them both here would doubtless bleed info into Michael sooner rather than later and at which point, it could distract them from the negotiations.

All the more detrimental if it turned out to be nothing.

But every prisoner here deserved their fate for a reason.

The doors parted, Rogziel was the first in and moved to the far end of the darkened room, only granted light through the dim flashes of spells and scrying. Of the halls of the great tower. The pillar which held thousands of inmates and spanned from the base of the second Heaven all the way to the summit.

Where it was only a mere hair from touching the stars.

Raguel moved past his brother and stopped before the highlighted image, a mere wave of the hand dragged it towards him as he narrowed his eyes.

Then he felt his chest seize.

This wasn't the floor of the Babel Angels.

This was deeper than that.

Much deeper.

His eyes snapped onto Rogziel and saw the tremor in his arms, all too soon realising why they had been as nervous as they were. It was a concern that was now flooding towards him as well.

And there was not a moment to lose.

"Put the Second Heaven on high alert and command all wardens to stand ready for a potential break."

In moments, he barked out commands and pointed to Rogziel.

"Carry word to Gabriel, inform her there is a potential breach in at the bottom of the Lightless Bastille and that I am personally moving to investigate-"

Raguel stopped speaking.

The building shook and his hands froze, slowly he looked upwards to the lights around them as they flickered and fluttered from some unseen breeze. All other angels in the room with them stopped as one.

It was a moment of perfect stillness.

With a sharp intake of breath, he turned to the screen once more and stared at it, stepping forwards and looking at the image.

The hall remained as it was, but that was perhaps all the more terrifying. For where once he would have found comfort in such an image, there was now nothing but dread within it. His jaw clenched and he straightened himself. His body went tense and there was a thickness within his throat, a silent promise as he gazed at the image which drew the eyes of every single individual in the room with rapt attention.

Once more, the building trembled.

The image flickered.

There could be no doubt.

He turned and sprang into motion, shooting back out of the door the way he had come and turning to gaze down over the railings of the bridge. His eyes dropped all the way to the very bottom and narrowed.

In the place where light did not reach.

There was a gaping maw, the cells that lined the walls went all the way down and faded out of sight into that blackness.

And yet again, did the building rumble, a low growl as if alive and churning into waking.

"Get the wardens to follow me."

He waited for no response, flinging himself over the railings and tucking his wings in to himself. Folding up and twisting his body into an arrow, he plummeted straight down without even bothering to try and break his fall. Others might have given chase, but that was for another time and he would not.

A horn sounded all about him, the rousing call of danger and it echoed through his head like a scream.

He flipped forwards and landed down, his legs buckled under the impact and the stone under foot suffered nothing so much as a graze from the fall which would have reduced anything else to a fine mist.

Raguel charged the moment he could do so and sprinted right towards the great pit before him, the seal remained atop and without lock.

But it could never contain what was underneath.

"Open the seal."

He commanded, voice carrying to the very summit.

"But Brother!" Rogziel's voice filtered back with greater panic. "If the seal is opened-"

"The seal will not stop them if they escape any more than it will stop me." He answered, voice even.

"Now open it." He commanded once again.

There was no verbal response this time, but the seal hissed and billowed out steam as it was pulled apart, folding into the ground and vanishing from sight entirely. The great hole which was far enough across that ten brothers could have jumped in at the same time was opened in less than a second.

And he took the plunge.

Then another rumble, louder and greater than before.

And as he fell, there was a force that rolled over him and had him spring out his wings and catch himself in the air.

Raguel fixed his eyes down.

And saw the flash of light from the very bottom, the swift burst of orange which was as fleeting as it was terrifying for him. Just as much when the echo reached his ears, the bellowing cry which sounded as though it came from nothing that shared hit lineage, but there could be few others to make such a noise.

"Brother!" Rogziel's voice trembled and drew in rapid breaths. "T-the cell-!"

He could imagine.

But he did not want it spoken aloud.

"Go inform Gabriel. Quickly." He folded his wings back and surrendered himself to the fall.

He fell into the darkness, the light which had been so quick had faded without a trace and not even his own brilliance could illuminate this place. His jaw clenched as he felt himself come closer and closer to the ground, turning and meeting the wall, he thrust a hand into it and held firm, slowing his descent by sliding down and then kicking off to the other side.

A final kick brought him down to the ground, knees bent once more and he struck with fist against the stone.

Raguel rose up and twisted his arm out.

Light coiled into his grasp, the shaft of gold the length of his forearm fell comfortably into his hand, twin chains fell out from the end of the shaft, each one ending in not a mace, but instead a small basin.

He stalked forwards, dragging the weapon behind him.

The sound of grinding metal echoed against the enclosed space as he moved closer and closer to the singular source of light.

He stopped as he reached it and looked down, the flickering of flames beside the shattered remains of the blackened door. Rendered apart as if something had torn it clean in half, with only the molten hand prints remaining within folded metal. But he had not seen them approach, which meant they had not gone to escape.

But that was strange.

No, unless they sought to break others out?

Then it was not strange.

His eyes narrowed and he accelerated forwards once more, sprinting as he passed by cell after cell.

And his worries grew as each of them was untouched.

…Even the cell of his close sister, the only other left in his order, was not opened.

Yet that left him with only one other terrible realisation.

The only things lower than the cell of Maalik were…

…The Daemons.

Surely he would never…

Wings spread wide and a golden light engulfed him, the ten wings sprang down and he shot forwards and twisted in the air. Pushing himself faster and faster until the scenery around him turned into a stream of unfiltered blackness, only registering for a singular moment before it passed him by.

A final turn threw him down into the last chamber at the very bottom, he turned and hit the ground.

Rising up, he started to twist his hand, the chains picked up speed and hummed faster and faster, golden brilliance danced over the links and the individual chains vanished. Instead it turned into a discus of light, not even glancing upon the ground or himself as he walked forwards and spied the doors at the far end.

Twelve doors.

And he stopped only when he saw the shadow standing before the door right in the centre.

"Step away, Maalik." He spoke with the strength of tempered steel. "Your madness can end here."

Maalik gave no response, he did not even so much as twitch.

And then he spoke in words bereft of feeling.

"How can you do it, Raguel? How can you serve him?"

Raguel ceased his advance and narrowed his eyes.

"He is the sole force keeping Heaven in power. Step away from the door. None can control them with-"

"With the Heavenly Father dead." Maalik completed, slowly he turned about and faced him. The sole bleached colour of his mask visible amidst the silhouette of shadow. The cloak of blackness wreathed and twisted like waves upon rock. "And with his killers alive to break bread with your brother."

Raguel grimaced. "A gross oversimplification."

"Or a feeble justification." Maalik argued with a tilt of the head. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

He stepped forwards once more, eyes narrowed.

The hum of his spinning weapon filled the silence.

"The doors." He repeated once more. "Move away from them."

Maalik turned and cast a slow look over his shoulder, it was a movement as deliberate as it was final.

The mask of bleached bone gazed long and hard at the twelve doors before it drifted back towards him and he spoke only a single word.

"No."

Raguel slung his arm forwards, the chain accelerated to the mask and left a trail of glitter in its wake.

Maalik faded into shadow, his attack bounced off the door as he drew it back, snapping the chain to him once more and spinning it about, turning his body and glancing in every direction. The chain rolled over him as a shield, a spinning barrier of light as he searched for any sign of movement that would reveal where Maalik was.

He snapped about and swung out, the chain grew and sliced through shadow and revealed nothing, drawing it back to himself and spinning once more.

Light burst across the room, he somersaulted backwards and watched the spears of flame pass right before his eyes before he hit the ground and charged forwards, twisting the chains back and forth over his body, each spear sent shudders through his arms as he deflected or shattered them, his teeth clenched harder and harder.

Maalik stepped forth from the shadow, twelve wings spread wide and glowing, casting a terrible light akin to the sun.

But it held no kind warmth.

There was only the promise of pain within those wings drenched in flames.

A burning spread over them, such that perhaps they might have once been white like his own, but they had long since lost such lustre. Instead, they were all coated in a malevolent fire which would never be extinguished.

Clear proof of where he had dwelled since the time of his creation.

Raguel twisted and pushed off the ground, cartwheeling away and keeping his chains deflecting the spears, he ducked and let them fly over head, sliding across the ground and rising up, slinging the chain forth once more and into the ground, Maalik vanished into shadow as the stone where he had stood cracked open, a layer of gold split in a singular line.

He frowned and yanked back, the spinning resumed until he turned about at the light.

Fire parried the chain aside, it was drawn back to him swiftly.

Maalik advanced with a sword as tall as he was.

And made entirely of flames.

Raguel pressed off the ground and threw himself back and into the air, floating and slinging the chain forth before drawing it back once more. The twin headed flail danced and slashed away, dragging trenches through stone of molten gold as he launched attack after attack towards Maalik.

And through it all, his brother kept his footwork flat.

His body blurred as nothing more than shadow and fire, stopping only to deflect the next attack before it moved to the other.

Raguel scowled and dropped down, pulling back and shortening the chains and spinning faster and faster.

Then he twisted about and launched forth arrow after arrow of light.

Maalik dodged the first and deflected the second, the third caught him in the chest and staggered him, gold peeled away the cloak of shadow and revealed the rolled plate armour of midnight, shadow pulled the veil closed over his form as he charged towards him, Raguel took to the air and used his slingshot again.

Raining gold again and again.

And they passed through nothing, Maalik vanished into the shadows once more.

Raguel scowled and held himself firm, twisting about and narrowing his eyes.

Something tickled the back of his neck.

Fast as lighting he turned-

Pain flooded over him, his ears screeched with the sound of crying metal and his back struck hard against the floor, a cough erupted from his throat as he felt himself push away from the ground from the force of it all. His eyes saw only vague shapes in the dark, and the flood of orange racing towards him.

His eyes widened as the vision cleared.

And he charged to meet the blow, turning and catching the sword across his shoulder. Teeth clenched as ichor flooded his mouth in an instant, there was pain that he had never felt the like of before, but he would not let it stop him.

"O'Light of Justice!"

The chant burst from his bloodied lips and carried him forth, a streak of brilliance in the darkness at the base of the prison and they collided, his shoulder struck the torso of Maalik and banished away the shadows that would have claimed them once more.

Without an escape, he caught the tackle front on and grunted.

They collided with the wall, Raguel drew back in a moment and slammed several punches into Maalik's chest and then delivered a final blow to the side of his head. Snapping his wounded arm up and catching the skull at the front and pulling his other arm back and holding it into a fist, light coated his knuckles as he drove it forwards.

Maalik's arm blurred, a faint push against his wrist and his punch was driven to the wall beside his target's head.

Hands caught his collar and dragged him forwards, his vision blanked with white as the headbutt caught him backwards, then a force struck his chest and threw him across the length of the room. A terrible crack echoed about him, the grinding of stone and the rumble of the building trembling around them.

Even the wall gave way to his collision.

Raguel gasped as he peeled himself forwards, raising his eyes and glaring across the room.

Maalik pushed off the wall and sharply twisted his neck with an echoing crack.

He pressed his boots flat against the wall behind him and took in a sharp breath, drawing his strength to him.

Then he pushed, springing forth and meteoring the distance between them in a moment.

His kick struck stone and nothing else, his eyes snapped down as the shadow launched for the ground and he gave chase, hand flying up and throwing forth bolts of holy power one after another.

The shadow twisted and burst to life with fire, sweeping out a wall and catching the arrows within its curtain, the explosion blinded him as he drove through the flames and rolled over, hitting the ground and twisting over to his legs, turning about at the warning and swinging the back of his arm out.

Maalik stood with forearm raised, catching his blow.

He gripped the wrist tight and yanked it over, twisting the forearm and then driving a boot down, Raguel grunted as he was dropped to a single knee. An arm enclosed around his throat and dragged him backwards, a weight settled on his shoulders and another force braced against him.

Scrambling, he caught the headlock and pushed off the ground, launching them both to the ceiling.

Maalik flipped them over, Raguel had not even a moment.

A kick into his back launched him the final distance and had his face crashing into stone, nary a moment later a hand caught the back of his helmet and slammed him once more into rock, several more times was he battered into the surface and each time he was yanked free, he could see solid stone bending further inwards to match the shape of its impromptu hammer.

A final pull hurled him across the room.

His back struck metal with a clang as he dropped forwards, stumbling and raising his arms to block.

His body folded over the punch to the gut, he coughed out and dropped down to his knees.

He had to keep moving-

Another blow to the back of the head, it was a clang which rattled his head and hammered him into the floor.

Only briefly did he feel the hands grappling him before there was weightlessness.

Raguel was unsure how often he was hurled across the room, only that he just kept moving beyond his control.

The world turned to a mixture of flashing lights and pain across all parts of his body.

He flexed his wings once, trying to catch himself and turned just as Maalik delivered a roundhouse kick to his torso, the blow ruptured the air with a tremendous thunderclap and sent him to the ground before the noise even reached his ears.

Raguel coughed, gold spilled across his visor and over his eyes, he blinked through dazed vision as the shadow dropped.

Then it moved, he was too numb to feel the punches or the pain they inflicted, all he saw was the helm getting closer and closer to his face until it was pressed right up against his skin, and beyond that as it was driven closer and closer, ending around his features and of the knuckles hammering it down.

It could take no more, the helmet shattered after the next blow and freed his eyes to the sight of Maalik looming over him.

Raguel wheezed and turned, pressing a hand flat-

He barely caught sight of the boot until it was pressed against the side of his head and snapping all thoughts of movement away from him. It flashed for only a moment until weightlessness took hold of him, throwin into flight and striking solid metal once more.

One of the doors, he vaguely understood.

Or his own armour signalling his halt.

Light blinded him, but not his own, it was the malicious red torrent of Maalik's flames as he stalked forwards, a flash of movement drowned all sight of the angel and all he could see was the sword itself as it was raised upwards.

Even then…

The Daemons could not be allowed to escape.

If he could only find the strength to-

The sword descended.

---

The body fell without a head, he cast one final look at Raguel's corpse before turning for the twelve doors and pacing towards them. His flames abandoned the shape of the sword and flowed back through his hand to his body once more, drowning the room in darkness, save for what he knew to be there.

Wings of fire stretched from his back and shot outwards, each one slammed to the very centre of the doors and pushed, throwing out every ounce of power he held within him to the point he could smell his own flesh burning under the heat.

But in the wake of such pain, he kept silent.

Dragging in a sharp breath and keeping his flames.

Metal groaned and shrieked, a glow spread over the doors and they started to fall inwards at the point of impact.

Then he snapped his wings back and looked upon his handiwork.

Each door held a hole no larger than a fist.

But it would be more than enough.

He turned on his heel and shot from the chamber and climbed higher and higher through the prison.

Fire trailed in his wake, streaming from his body and flowing to every door he passed.

Melting through the chambers and twisting them asunder, spilling the contents to the real world.

The void was blessed with creation and he moved on.

Until he stopped, spotting three brothers before him.

And they stopped in turn, looking upon him with horror and dread.

"Rogziel." He greeted, then inclined his head. "Raguel would have ordered you away, yet here you stand. Ever willing to disobey if it means to keep your brothers safe, are you not?"

He stepped back and dropped into shadow.

Then reformed behind the three.

The first saw nothing as he twisted their head about and wrenched it from their shoulders, the second turned on him too late as he thrust his speared hand through their torso and out their back, ripping it free with a spray of blood which painted the front of Rogziel as he finally turned about.

Maalik plunged his twelve wings through his younger brother and pulled them off the ground, earning only a gasping wheeze as he stared into his eyes, seeing the dread and terror.

"You should have listened."

He pulled the wings aside and tore them asunder, decorating the halls with the consequences of their failure.

He turned, sweeping the burning wings in his wake and marching with purpose.

Rows and rows of the cells lay before him, each one contained one who would have once been branded a traitor.

Yet in Heaven now, the world held as much weight as a handful of sand.

What did being a traitor matter when all had turned their back on Father?

And at least these ones acted for love.

Power coiled through his body, strength which he had not channelled in centuries flowed to him easily, as if he had never once stopped using it. Cooling in the space before him, the warping of the air and the twisting of the flames, the glow of fire between his fingers as he pressed his hands closer and closer together.

The orb of flames roared as they were folded upon themselves again and again.

Upon the surface of the flames did he lay his fingers, with the heat of a star pushing back against his body.

With a hooked grasp, he tore the molten orb asunder and spilled the flames down the halls, scorching them black, with each cell the wave passed, it reduced the shackles of the cell doors to ash. One by one, they were exposed to the grandeur of creation as he sinned again and again.

It was a wall of flames which spread further than the eye could see, moving through every hallway and through every crack.

It was every cell that he cracked open, every prisoner that he freed.

With a deep breath, he stepped forwards and raised his voice.

For if there was one message that he would speak, it would be this one.

"Brothers! Sisters!"

The words were met with a chorus of yells, with the clanging of breaking chains and marching steps.

"I gift unto you, freedom!"

He watched the rooms open, and the prisoners stepped out.

Hesitant and confused, but he would not blame them.

"Take up your blades, string your bows, ready your arms!"

A fist raised itself high, the flames coiled between his knuckles and seeped into his fingers, the Holy Light flowed with such vigour, the likes of which had not been seen since the final days of the War.

"Heed my words! Michael has betrayed the memory of Father! He has acted as the Morning Star! In so doing, he had destroyed what little remained of our good name! With Devils and Fallen does he break bread! With the blessed gifts of venerable Saints does he hand out like cheap favours!"

Faces awash with confusion and horror, disbelief and anger.

He saw it all, he felt it all.

He roared louder, words that echoed far and wide.

To every cell.

To every freed brother and sister.

To the Daemons who had heeded the summons of Father.

"I speak with a heavy heart! For many of you will doubt my words! As I too doubted it when I first heard but I have seen the treachery of Michael with my own eyes and here and now, I denounce him! I attaint him! I name him to be the Second Morning and shall stand by this accusation!"

Chaos from behind, flurry of movement.

He heard them now, the scurrying of the traitors and schemers.

The mere thought made him boil with rage.

Turning on his heels, he lowered his hand and swung it out, the Holy Light pushed out and formed the shape of a blade, long as he was tall and wide as half an arm. His other hand dropped to the handle and curled around it, holding the burning blade with strength that ignored its searing kiss.

"All those who stand with Michael now are traitors! If you would still fight in the memory of Father and follow me against the Second Morning, then hear me now…"

His next words carried as a roar.

"Gut the traitors where they stand! Slaughter the heathens who dare desecrate the Temple of Father!"

He marched forwards, hearing the calls behind him, the rising fury of those who knew him and heard his words in full.

It brought not even a smile to his face at the loyalty.

For it was indeed a terrible thing.

Instead his eyes remained fixed to the distant golden lights which flowed across the sky, the warning of his brothers and sisters-

Nay, of the traitors who had sensed his escape and his might and were coming to see the schemes of the Second Morning continue without interruption.

"Heaven is the tomb where the Heavenly Father lies, and we shall consecrate it with the blood of the Second Mornings schemers!"

With sword held aloft, he pointed the tip towards his traitorous brethren.

"Bury it under a mountain of corpses, carved from the ranks of our fallen brothers! So says I, Maalik! First of the Zabaniya and instrument of the Heavenly Fathers will!"

The wings pushed him into the air and he charged onwards, the ranks of the Angels that lay before him surged to meet him.

Screams and roars behind him grew closer, and then the sky was blotted dark with the thousands who emptied from the jails of Heaven.

As one, they charged into the ranks of the Husk of Heaven.

The first blow was celebrated by Maalik.

His flaming sword cleaving through the first traitor in the lines, the first of many.

---

Raphael adjusted the cloak on his shoulders, his arms felt strange.

It had been long since he adorned himself in the armour of the war, and he truly hoped that he would never have to do so again. Yet it seemed as though this was something that he could not avoid.

A final roll of the shoulders and he dropped his arms, his wings folded in behind him and he turned for the others, moving for them and ready to issue his first commands.

"Brother!"

Or perhaps he would have done so, had it not been for the voice which stopped him in his tracks.

Lips curled into a smile as he turned back to the speaker, glancing to the crystal blue skies and watching the figure plunge down towards him, her wings catching her fall and keeping her afloat but a few feet from him. Her face set in a mixture of worry and puzzlement, not that he didn't understand.

Those were emotions he was feeling at this moment.

"Has something happened?"

Raphael tightened his features and nodded slowly.

"The garrison of the Second Heaven reported a disturbance near the Lightless Bastille. I am taking my own detachment and moving to provide support if they would need it…and it has been some time since there was a communication with them last. I fear something has transpired-"

"I shall come-"

"Absolutely not."

He cut her short, though not unkindly. Pushing himself off the ground and into the air beside her, the smile on his lips softened at her expression. The sort that spoke of firm disagreement with his words but it only served to make her look rather adorable. His older sister was truly something fearsome, but it was working against her if she believed it would grant her preferential treatment.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on her upper arm and held firm. "Michael has put his trust in you while he manages the conference, your place is far from some little trivialities such as this. Let me handle this and you can put yourself at ease knowing that whatever problem has arisen will be put to rest soon enough."

Gabriel frowned a touch, still holding the flame of opposition in her face, once more she opened her mouth for a retort.

One he would not allow.

"And if it comes to blows with whomever has caused this ruckus, then I would rather not have you sully your hands in such a way…I understand that you hate violence above all else."

Her face softened, but it was a terrible thing indeed as she looked at him with such heartfelt pity.

"As do you, brother…Do you believe I would allow you to take my place in such a dreary scene? To be a shield at your own expense?"

He truly should have expected that, but he would not be deterred.

"Perhaps, but that is my choice. You truly have taken things out of proportion."

"And you are being too cavalier, brother." She countered, eyes narrowed, her own hand came up and placed itself upon his cheek, a faint pinch between her fingers but little else as she looked into his eyes. "You seek to save me from harm as if I were but a glass statue while placing yourself into the fray…But I doubt you will heed my words."

There was disappointment in that, both in her words and in himself.

"I will return shortly and…I offer apologies if I have caused offence to you-"

"Brother…" Her quiet whisper cut him short, her hand came free of his face. "If you are to go, then go. But understand that I shall be along shortly and there is nothing you might do to dissuade me of that."

Raphael felt himself grow lighter and a laugh threatened to bubble up from his throat. "Yes, I am quite aware of how stubborn you might be."

At those words, she did pout.

He laughed more openly at the expression and turned, dropping back down to the ground and stepping through his lines, moving to the head of them and meeting the mirthful gazes of his brethren. They doubtless all felt the same as he did when it came to ensuring Gabriel was kept as far as possible from the threat of a fight.

His free arm came up, the golden helm formed upon his palm and slotted onto his head, a twist and a click brought it into place. He took in a steadying breath and brought his wings forth, the twelve pristine symbols of his status, a singular beat activated the teleportation and made him move all of his brethren at once.

A force of a thousand angels.

He would have brought more, but Michael had taken some to the conference and he would not leave sections of Heaven so woefully unguarded, nor did he wish to cause an alarm where none might have existed.

Yet Raguel had resided over the Second Heaven since his birth.

Not once had there been a warning there.

And he believed there would be reason enough to be concerned.

With a deep breath, he felt the pull of the energy as he was dragged across space, moving between the planes of Paradise and towards the land where the light of Father had failed to touch, by design rather than by accident. A terrible place the jail of Heaven was, and he lamented that many of his brothers found their way there.

But he could not think of the sadness.

He needed only see what problems had-

It was in a split second beyond even the fastest comprehension.

The smell of fire and ash, the screams and clashing of blades and the roar above the chaos of the battle.

Bodies piled into one another in frantic displays of violence and brutality.

The skies, once clear and beautiful, were choked thick with the smog of war and death.

Raphael caught himself from retching at the mere sight of what had befallen the place, the horror smashed into his eyes and rolled over his body with a terrible coldness. A sight he had not seen since the…

His eyes flung across the battlefield, searching for the signs of defenders and he saw them.

He saw those who yet lived and those who littered the grounds.

A glint of light in the darkness caught his eye, his free hand moved out and reached for it, taking it between his fingers and plucking it from the air.

…A dirtied white feather, half burnt and cracked.

Slowly, he looked up and saw yet more of them blowing through the winds, a storm of tragedy.

Raphael curled his hand into a fist and swung out his other, the light steel in his grasp and his armoured fingered curled around the halberd. He gripped so tightly that the metal would have bent under his grasp if it were any weaker, but that was not to be. He stretched his wings as wide as could go and then, with a roar to the skies, he catapulted himself into the air.

"Brothers!"

His soldiers followed him up, he felt their determination.

"Sisters!"

He spied across the landscape and saw it in the distance, the darkened place where the jail had once been was set aflame, belching out cursed flames and twisted black clouds into the halls of Heaven.

Raphael felt righteous anger surge through him at this moment, the desecration had to be answered.

"With me, now!"

He pushed forwards and accelerated faster than he could truly think, with speeds that turned him to naught more than a comet of light.

Yet his voice carried loud and clear.

"Now, with me!"

And he thrust into the first of the attackers, one who he knew.

One who should not have been here.

His halberd pierced through the chest of Mihael, clean through the body and to the other side, he stared down into his face, the shock of the attack mixed with the pain he felt and for Raphael, he felt a pang of horror shoot through him as he realised what he had done, yet it was quickly put to rest as his mind turned to the sights around him.

He reached out and clasped the throat of his brother and wrenched the weapon from his chest, holding them aloft until the light perished from their eyes. He released them soon after and watched them plummet back down to the ground, then pointed his halbered high, the tip facing the Heavens above and pulsed his might through it.

For he was a Seraphim and all who knew him would understand.

Light pierced through the cloud and let the rays of light spill back down onto the battlefield, even through the chaos he could see his wounded brethren - those who had defended - gaze towards him and their hearts set aflame with hope and rekindled determination.

"Hear me, those who break their chains! I am Raphael, Messenger of Father, and with these words I lay down an ultimatum! Return to the prison and accept the judgement for this transgression…"

He swung the halberd down, trailing golden light behind the blade, his helm turned and fixed the legion of escaped prisoners with a glare.

"Or face me…and let me serve as the messenger of His wrath."

Dead silence greeted him, an eerie lack of even but a whisper on the field of death.

It was interrupted only by a clang, Raphael's hand snapped out and caught what had struck the front of his armour, it was a metal echo, his fingers curled around the dented shape and his eyes glanced down towards it. Something he could not make sense of for a moment.

A mangled hunk of metal.

It was a confusion that lasted a moment, until he turned it over.

Then it gave way to horrified clarity.

His heart stopped and he looked down with a cold numbness.

Raguel's helm, split right in half.

With stains of golden ichor from within, slowly he brought his gaze up and looked across.

He saw them quickly, twelve wings wreathed in cursed flames, dragged from the very depths of Hell itself, yet beneath those fires still shone the pure white of the wings, untouched by the fires which embraced them.

Chipped black armour, cracked and warped, mangled and tested by battles fought without end.

Rolled bands of plate circled around them, the armour shrouded beneath a billowing cloak of ragged black fabric.

And where the face would have been, there was a bleach white mask of a skull, a haunting image which would have struck fear into the heart of many a Devil who glimpsed it so many years ago. Devils and sinners alike would have seen it and fled, yet there was a time he would have seen it and smiled.

Raphael was not smiling now.

Maalik raised his right hand, clenched within it was the sword of flames, twisting and lapping at the air, a clear challenge.

Then the voice of the angel carried across the battlefield.

"Then heed my words, Raphael."

Maalik's voice contained but a tremor of anger.

"We shall march unto the Gates of Heaven and cast down all those who support Michael. Their blood will pave the way for our march against the Devils and the Traitors alike. We will butcher them in droves and salt their homes, not a single one shall escape slaughter for the tragedy they have inflicted upon the world."

They thumped a fist against their chest.

"Your corpse shall serve as messenger for my wrath."

Raphael rolled his jaw and held tight the old helm of his dead brother, then lowered it down to his side and took in a steadying breath, his voice came out as even and resolved.

For that is what he was now.

"Then you have chosen death. For in His name, I shall smite you down. Enemy of All."

"You do not deserve to speak of his name with such love, scoundrel. For you and all like you have spat upon it…But understand this."

Maalik held his sword with both hands and tensed his wings.

"I shall mourn for the brother you were. Not the monster you now are."

It was his final word before he charged forwards, buffeting flame and smoke in his wake.

Raphael pushed forwards and swung out, light was his ally and it shone bright.

The roar of battle resumed as his forces descended and the enemies rose to meet them.

He and Maalik clashed with a shriek of weapons and a tsunami of fire and light.

Shock travelled up his arms from the first blow, it nearly sent him reeling backwards, unexpected was the burst of strength from the Angel who had been imprisoned for centuries, if Raphael had hoped that his time incarcerated had waned his skills, then it was a hope in vain.

He propelled himself forwards once more, halberd thrust for the head, batted aside by the burning sword of Maalik and then thrust in counter, the heat from the weapon was terrible indeed, hotter than he recalled anything else being. Perhaps even Uriel would have found it to be his match.

A poor opponent for him, he realised, an odd thought at this time as he furiously struck away at the attacks which came without pause.

A nervous one as well as he found himself forced backwards before long, his wings keeping him just out of reach while he used the length of the polearm to ensure Maalik could not press further his advantage. He briefly pulled his left hand away, but for only a split second - not even that - as he summoned forth a wall of light spears, a mental twitch and a flick of the hand had them fall upon his opponent.

He saw but a flicker of it through the gaps, the faint traces of searing red and then the barrage expanded, blasted apart as the rolling wave of fire spilled forth. Raphael had nary a moment to react, bringing his hand up before him and pushing light through his fingers, the shield formed before him, his teeth clenched hard as it buffeted against his defences without end.

Through the hazed vision he saw the flames beat at his shield, as if alive.

Furiously pounding away, but that was not what concerned him.

It was that he had lost sight of Maalik during the blast and though it had been less than a few seconds, it was time enough for-

The impact registered before anything else.

Neither the shadow which burst through the flames, nor the horrific crash of his shield being torn apart into shards.

No, it was when the blur smashed right into his chest, when he heard the horrible groan of his armour buckling and when the world itself spun out of control that he even realised what had happened. He blinked focus just for his vision to turn dark, he felt the grip around his head as the gauntlet clasped into place over his helm.

The screech of clawed metal fingers curling around his head drummed through his ears.

He swung the halberd up, held at both ends, and pushed hard into the arm holding him, throwing it and clearing his vision, light flooded his world once more and he spun around on nothing, twisting fast enough to be little more than one still image to another, his leg swung down.

The world crawled to a halt as he watched his shin slam into the raised arm of Maalik, the pale skull mask stared back at him without even an ounce of feeling from his brother. Then the raised arm twisted and clamped down hard around his knee.

Too late, he raised his halberd to thrust.

Maalik twisted and then spun him around, Raphael felt himself plummet through the sky the second he was released, spreading his wings wide to brace his fall or at the very least catch himself. Then the spears of light fell upon him, so far removed from his own as they each looked to be set aflame, the Light of their bodies writhed like fire.

He was moving his halberd next, swatting them aside before they could strike him but they came one after another and without end. His wings tensed and then pushed, throwing him far from the line of sight and pulling his left arm back once more, his fingers curled around the shape unseen and then tensed.

With that single act, the weight of the javelin formed in his grasp.

A roar burst from his lips as he swung.

Nothing happened.

He blinked once in confusion, then twice once more as the spear failed to pass his line of sight.

He turned to his arm-

Raphael found himself staring at nothing, instead of an arm he saw only a stump where his limb would have been, carved off at the elbow.

His eyes climbed further at the shape just in the corner of his eye, the confusion struck him before the pain as he stared at the pale white mask, much like Maaliks. Yet he was looking right at the Angel, so how they had they managed to-

Oh.

Of course.

There were two surviving Zabaniya, were there not?

"Gaaaa!"

Agony surged through him as he pushed his wings, and himself, away before the next blow could land, a very near miss that would have otherwise plunged into his throat.

He took in the second attacker, one cloaked in shadow with only the mask to be seen, behind them loomed the twelve wings. They shot backwards and were obscured in the cloud of darkness a moment later, their form vanishing into nothing but the wind. His eyes narrowed and he went on alert.

Blinding pain gave rise to hardened focus, he ensured he was still moving, twisting about and surveying the battlefield.

Horror and sorrow flooded his vision instead, his forces and those who had been defending were being butchered en masse by the sheer number of prisoners. Weaker some of them might have been, but the presence of the Zabaniya and the Daemons had certainly turned this into a losing battle-

A howl like a beast was all the warning he received, he turned before his breath shot from his mouth and the mass of muscle and fury bore down upon him, the halberd knocked clean from his hands as the hand the size of his chest circled around his body.

His right hand, the lone limb, pushed back in a single blow.

The punch cracked against the jaw of the monster, the snarl came next as he was freed, yet he did not retreat, this time he advanced. Throwing his might into the shoulder bash, he pushed forwards with every ounce of his strength and twisted down, light engulfed himself and the beast as they made for solid ground.

And they met it in the same movement, he was flung over the top of the Daemon from the impact, but a deft spin had him land on his feet, his eyes flying up and spying the cloud of debris from the landing and the shadowed form which rose up.

With a guttural roar, the cloud parted and revealed the Daemon once more.

Stood head and shoulders above him with pure white skin, horns of gold rose above the armoured face, curving backwards behind the head, while a smaller set curled forwards from around the jaw.

Double jointed legs pushed up the tall form atop spiked hoofs, clawed dagger like fingers curled into large fists.

The wings on the back, so much like those of a Devil but far wider and much greater in scale, spread wide.

And furious orbs of luminescent blue glared back at him, the beast took a single step forwards.

"Thy reckoning comes at last, traitor to the Father."

The Daemon growled out the words, raising its right arm and pointing towards him.

Raphael felt the surge of power, he folded his wings over his body like a shield, then he felt the burn of the spell strike him hard enough to launch him backwards, the light knocked the shield asunder and sent feathers scattering into the wind, as he flew, he raised his voice and shouted loud.

"Retreat to the gate! Get word to Gabrie-"

A shadow passed above his head, even without that he heard the bellowing words of fury.

"Thy judgement shall come without delay!"

He struck the ground and raised his forearm up and over himself, the Daemon loomed high with fists clasped together. With a snarl it dropped down and swung into him, knees buckled as the wind broke and shattered, the crack of thunder from the blow and the pain almost made him drop to his knees.

He saw the neck blow and ducked under it, the fist passed mere inches above his head.

Stepping forwards, he coiled power into his lone arm and swung it forth, driving his fist into the chest and releasing it. The explosion was drowned out by the roar of pained fury, the blast knocked the Daemon clear from him and hurtling through the air.

A pyrrhic victory.

He could see three others already breaking away from their own battles as their eyes fell upon him.

Raphael took to the skies-

"Gah!"

Pain struck his back as his eyes fell down, a glint of dark silver protruded from between the plates of his armour, he swung his elbow around and pulled away.

The skull mask ducked under the blow and vanished back into shadow, he hissed and glared at the spot, slamming his palm over the wound and stemming the flow of ichor. His breath came in pants, pushing his wings hard and driving himself further and further back, eyes searching for any others who were joining him.

He counted no more than a hundred in a mad rout.

Beyond that paltry number, he saw the mass of prisoners take flight after them.

But where was-?

Something whistled behind his head, it was for only a moment.

Then a grip found his nape and he was shunted forwards, he tried to turn to free himself of it, but he saw the ground approach too fast. Eyes wide, he threw his arm forwards to cover himself, then he struck the ground hard.

He was still moving, the grip on the back of his neck holding him down as his attacker pushed him harder and harder into the floor, the hold loosened and vanished, he flung without pause, eyes blurred and head burning.

The front of his visor had opened up, half his faceplate was gone.

It was a strange thing, he thought as the world slowed around him, that he should have been concerned with the lack of the front of his helm.

His shoulders hit solid ground and he gasped in pain, rolling to a halt.

Breathing came hard for him, drawing in and out, though nothing more than a futile action on account of his Angelic nature, it was something he had found himself doing on time with the humans who came here.

They still acted like they needed to breathe.

It must have worn off on him.

A crack had him jolt.

It was near him but not that far, lying on his back, he turned his neck to the ground.

His halberd lay there, implanted in the ruins just beside his head.

The pristine gold weapon held nothing but a terrible reckoning now.

Raphael's eyes moved beyond it to the shadow, the one holding the burning sword.

Maalik's gaze bore down upon him.

"Pick it up."

Raphael found himself struggling to move.

Maalik spoke again, firmer this time.

"Pick. It. Up. Traitor and wretch you might be. But I would have you die on your feet, as befits you as one of the first."

Raphael turned onto his side, pressing his lone arm down against the ground. His eyes closed and he tensed himself one final time, dragging his form across onto his knees and then leaning back up.

He must have been a sorry state indeed.

Gabriel was right, he wasn't much good at this sort of thing.

…He should have parted with her on better terms than an argument.

He never even said goodbye to her.

Reaching forwards, his hand curled around the shaft of his weapon and he pushed up, using it to balance himself, it was less of a rise and more of staggered clamber, he wavered back and forth and then fell forwards, catching himself on the polearm and lingering on it for a moment, he looked up and met the gaze of Maalik.

"Brother…" The words came out as a quiet whisper. "...If you do this…all will be lost…"

They had to see this.

"It shall destroy…everything…"

Maalik was silent for a time.

Yet if Raphael held hope for a change of heart now, if such a thing was possible, it vanished as Maalik slowly shook his head.

"You are too blinded by it, Raphael." There was little sympathy in the words, but there was sadness. As if trading words with a fool. "The Death of The Heavenly Father…it was the day Heaven perished. For what is a King without a Kingdom?"

The words hardened as the flaming sword was raised.

"And I shall not suffer to see the Morning Star cast out for treachery only to see Michael take his place…"

"And how many will suffer for this folly?!"

His voice rose, he pushed himself further up and gave a single tug, yanking the halberd from the ground and levelling it towards Maalik.

"How many shall be cast down into damnation for this violence?! Do you not see? There shall be no victor here…only victims. Are you so blinded by revenge that you would bring pain to everyone simply because you are wounded?"

Maalik inclined his head. "You think me so petty? I know what has been done…I know what you intend to do."

The words came out as a growl.

"...You would replace our numbers with humans…elevating them as if we had the right to do so and worse…you would use the tools of Devils to see it done?"

Raphael froze.

How…how did he know about the Brave Saints system?

Who told him-?

"I am putting Heaven to rest before it can continue this sacrilege further…"

Both hands dropped to the flaming sword.

"In His name. I shall cast out those who would poison the memory of what we were."

Raphael grit his teeth and then accepted it.

He would doubtless die here.

But Maalik…Maalik was one he could not let pass.

His experience was second only to Michael in war, perhaps greater than.

If nothing else…he needed to kill just him.

His feet left the ground and he pushed into the air, a swing of the halberd trailed a blinding light behind it, he plunged through and down, meeting the sword head on and then pushing further, twisting about and snapping his wings, sending a dozen quills at the angel.

The blade of the halberd dragged along the ground, carving gold where it went and then drew up.

The spears of light formed across the ground and flung the way of the Angel.

And through it all, through the intense barrage, he watched with mounting horror as Maalik twisted, turned and parried his way through all of it.

Power flooded through him, his body exploded with a golden aura which cast aside the debris around them, tossing away bodies and enemies alike who had strayed too close. Even Maalik took a step backwards, at least until his own form was embraced by a matching cloak of strength, bright red and spitting like flames.

His wings tensed and then catapulted him forwards, light pushed him faster than he had ever gone before.

He was nearly upon Maalik when he started moving.

Drawing the halberd up, he met the burning sword and pushed with all his might, his brother vanished into the skies as a trail of flame and shadow. He gave chase, throwing himself up with force enough to split the world with a thunderclap, the roar of the propulsion did not even herald a sound until he was within touching distance of his brother.

His body twisted and he swung the arm out, slowing his ascent for a fraction of a second.

Spears of light in the hundreds, perhaps the thousands, surged right past him.

He drew out each one within instant time of the first, one after another hurled to their target without pause.

Raphael clenched his teeth and strained his body, drawing upon every ounce of will that was within him.

The shadow of flame and fury met his wrath without faltering.

A sword of fire danced through the chaos, each movement spilled flames from the blade and shattered the spears as they closed in. With nothing more than sword and skill, Maalik countered his grand offensive while his eyes remained locked onto him from behind the mask of bone.

The halberd spun in his grasp, his arm drew back and he pushed it forth, throwing it.

Light burned from his grasp, the heat expanded out.

Those with fewer than four wings burned in moments, turned to ash and salt, none even had the chance to scream.

The spear accelerated past the head of Maalik, a mere twitch had let him dodge.

But he was never the target.

Raphael carried himself with the polearm and appeared with it, appearing above his brother and grasping it once more. He turned about and plunged down, his body screamed with pain as he forced it.

Maalik turned onto him as though he expected him, the halberd struck the flat of the blade, braced with both arms from his brother, who gave no indication that he was bothered by the fires of his sword, nor as it hissed and spat upon them bother, the embers burning holes into his armour.

His wings, all twelve of them, burned with light bright enough to rival the sun.

And then they cast that light as fuel, the pair of them plunged down to the ground as smoke and ruin.

Raphael bellowed out a roar.

Maalik kept his silence, then he turned.

Pain exploded in his gut as they flipped over, knees slammed into his torso and catapulted him away, he spun without control and without slowing. He felt resistance nary a moment later, the world turned dark as he found himself flying through the halls of the prison, still with sense enough to watch as the force behind his intrusion rendered the once great walls to little more than dust.

Winds carried in his wake.

And within the winds of ruin, he saw the burning flame clear them and meet him.

Raphael swung, the weight of the strike split the walls and the ceiling apart, a clean blow rendered a slash across all that was before it, perhaps even space was cleaved with the blow.

Maalik fell just under it at the second before it was released.

Raphael made eye contact as he pulled his polearm back for the followup.

One that would not come.

Maalik closed the gap too swiftly and thrust without him even following him, the pain surged through his body, golden ichor burst from between his lips and splattered along the white mask of his brother, and he pushed onwards.

The sword set his insides aflame, pain unlike he had ever experienced or would again.

It was sheathed to the hilt in his gut and perhaps further still, but his world exploded with the agony, so much that he barely registered when they changed direction and he was instead being thrown upwards, not until he found himself in the thin light of the battlefield, but it was a paltry thing.

The fog of war shrouded the land.

Not even the stars could be seen above their heads, a cold and unforgiving darkness.

Thick with pain and despair.

Maalik twisting the blade focused his mind in ways he would have never thought possible, another hiss of pain escaped him, a meagre effort to properly describe what he could feel, but it was all he managed.

The halberd tumbled from his grasp and vanished to sights unseen, he watched only as the golden weapon disappeared to the distance over the shoulder of Maalik.

His hand dropped down and pressed against the arm of his attacker, making an effort to pull.

"Farewell."

A single word.

But it carried such finality with it.

Raphael could never have completed a meaningful thought with the time it took.

All he felt was the heat from within him spilling through his whole body.

'Gabriel' His mind whispered in those final moments. 'I'm sor-'

It was a thought cut short with silence.

---

The fires claimed his quickly, spilling from under the armour and from the visor of the helm.

It was an eerie silence, save for the crackle of the flames.

Maalik watched in silence as the body turned limp, the pristine white wings were rendered nothing more than ashes in the wind, the golden armour - better suited for a show than a fight - was melted black and hideous, a form undeserving of the one who had once worn it.

He cut the flames after several moments, the body would have fallen had he not caught it by the collar.

Every detail was enshrined in his memory, for whatever else…they had once been his brother.

"You always looked the part of the soldier, Raphael."

But Raphael was always so taken with Michael, they all were.

In the end, Raphael was no more a traitor than he was a victim for remaining faithful to his older brother, while being blind to the truth of it all. For who could ever suspect Michael of lowering himself to such tragic depths as had happened.

With the body still in hand, he heard the faint wingbeats from behind, making a half turn with his neck to gaze upon the arrival.

"My brother."

Shadows drifted apart, the form revealed itself, the head aimed down.

"We have secured the complex and have begun organisation. What are your orders?"

His orders.

"...The Second Morning remains ignorant of our escape, but news will not take long to reach him. At present he consorts with Devils and the Fallen."

The sharp intake of breath was the only response to the words, he turned and looked down at the smaller body, the skull mask rose up to meet his gaze. With a wave of the hand, he beckoned his Sister to stand up beside him, she did so after a moment.

"I shall take a third of our forces and several Daemons."

His eyes moved past her and to the distance.

"You shall take the remainder. Flood into the first Heaven and make those aware of what has transpired. Accept those who shall stray from the Second Morning's sin and purge those who would stand with him even now…make them aware of the tragedy that has unfolded and then make your escape. Gabriel remains with the other Seraphs and once they become aware of what has transpired, they shall not be long in putting us to the sword."

"I understand, my Brother."

She bowed her head once and then turned, he held out a hand before she could fully depart.

"Susāʾīl."

She stopped at the use of her name and inclined her head for him.

He gave a single nod of the head. "Your skills remain as sharp as the day we parted."

"Had they lessened, I would have torn off two of my wings for such disgrace."

"Go."

She took to the skies not even a moment later.

He watched for a moment, his eyes fell upon the body still in his grasp once more.

Loosening his fingers, he let it drop from him and without wings, it plummeted like nothing more than metal.

A corpse he spared no further attention to.

His thoughts turned elsewhere.

"Metus."

The bleached form appeared beside him, the Daemon took several steps upon the air before falling to a halt and staring down at him.

"Maalik." It rumbled back with something approaching respect. "You shall commit to this?"

"I shall." He turned and met the blue eyes of the Daemon. "And then we shall finish our intended purpose. At this gathering of Heathens and Traitors, we shall put them all to the sword and begin a crusade of vengeance for the death of the Heavenly Father. This I shall swear to you."

Metus looked back to him, then nodded its head slowly in acceptance. "The accord is struck. You shall be held to your word. Reatus. Alhuzn."

Two more, of equal form, appeared behind Metus and peered down with intensity.

"We shall journey with Maalik to find Michael."

""By your command.""

Maalik raised a single finger. "You will find Azrael there…he is not to be harmed. He…was the one who informed me of this transgression."

Metus straightened. "The Bell Ringer lives?"

The Daemons behind exchanged looks with one another, then returned their focus to him.

With rumble, Metus inclined his head. "Then it is to the Herald of Death that we shall extend our gratitude for this chance. He shall not meet harm so long as he steps aside in the face of righteous fury."

Maalik turned on his heel and marched for the lines.

His hands balled into fists.

Even now, the fury radiated from him.

…How many more of his brothers would have to be put to the sword?

…No.

They made their choices and all that remained were the consequences.