The Wielder of Death Magic

“Would you care for a smoke?”

“Huh?” from the stars to the voice, “-aren’t you one of the angels?”

“Correct,” a gentleman of fair complexion, robed in white, crowned by golden laurels, walked and sat, the lips carried a cigarette, “-arch-angel now,” he puffed and offered a smoke, Igna accepted and puffed. An adjacent light, amber in color, shyly fell on the entity – sharply grey pupils, a thinly drawn brow curved, curly hair hid the forehead partly. A rounded nose carried a softly carved bridge, linking at the glabella, the prominent forehead, unlike the brow, seemed to cast a crude shadow onto the sharp eyes. Each time he spoke, the glance would glide onto whatever he focused on. The jawline, sharp and concrete, neatly bundled the clean-shaven cheeks, a ring of gold prominently hung on the earlobe, “-the valkyries spoke of mercy and repentance; repaying kindness in full, the words went over my head.”

“An angel,” they exchanged agreeable nods and watched the stars, “-couldn’t see the extent of the strength, I do apologize.”

“Mention not,” a circle-shaped smoke puffed, “-Igna Haggard, I was released by lord Hades, ‘-go and live,’ was the exact words. We watched lady Persephone be tortured day in and day out, after a week, seeing our horrified expression, she bore a mask of bravado, smiling as opposed to screaming, the courage made the punishment louder and unbearable,’ he reached out his palm, ‘-look here,’ a black feather summoned, ‘-angels who sin and go against their morals fall from the grace of the mighty one. I’ve sinned, rather, we’ve sinned. After the battle, I saw fit to kill my fellow angels, my hands’ reek of blood, and my wings dripped in their last vows. There was no resentment, their death proved to be salvation, and I decided to take the blunt. There’s no going back, I’ve killed to save my fellow angels and fought to repay the kindness shown. I’m masterless and without a purpose, I’m lost.”

The words waned heavy on Igna, the nonchalant expression sunk, similarities of the tale could be matched with his, “-I see,” the cigarette ended, “-I don’t know either,” replied gravely, “-I’ve been on the constant fight against schemes of this realm and the intervention of Lucifer and the gods. I have no idea why they’d be interested, there is an infinite number of worlds bearing similar features to us, why this of all place?”

.....

“Allow me to shed some light. What is said is true to some extent, the heavenly realms are tacky and let’s say, idle. The gods share their blessing and powers to other worlds, rule over their domain and live life without much chance. Lucifer is another matter entirely. Not a god, in reality, the Church worships him as God. Veneration and undying loyalty boasters his power, faith has the power to alter fate. Thus was his way of saying f-you to the other gods. To the reason why this particular realm is attacked, there’s none. There was and still is the realm of Draebala, a world ravaged by the fights between gods and demons. I wouldn’t put much stock in the heavenly politics, tis whimsical and everchanging. Lucifer’s on an expedition to find the book of Gehenna. The truly wicked souls to ever live are trapped inside the hidden domain.”

“Question,” an eyebrow rose, “-how was the information acquired?”

“By assimilation of my own kind. I share their memories, a matter of simple deduction led to my assessment.”

“A fallen angel seeks refuge to one who loses the battle, what a joke.”

“Lord Hades is virtually unbeatable, same to Zeus and Poseidon. Dispelling lady Intherna and Lilith’s spell must have been a shock. Given the current vessel, your powers are limited.”

“I doubt I’ll recover boon of divinity – my standing as a deity was lost the moment I died by Zeus’ sword. Conniving bunch, no matter the strength I amass, I’ll never be on par to one gifted with the boon of a godly body.”

“Interesting,” he lit another cigarette, “-you were a god previously?”

“Yeah, God of Death to be precise. I’ve returned to the title of Heir to Death.”

“Dire situation,” he puffed, “-if becoming a god isn’t a viable solution, why not become a demon god. They are ridiculously strong and weak to ‘good’ might grant the edge.”

“Not interested,” he sighed, “-that title is best kept for Hades and his aid, I have no business interjecting. Who knows,” the palms clasped, “-the blood in my vein is a thing to behold. The Nightwalker’s legend...”

“You said something?”

“Forget it.” By the time they realized, the attire wasn’t one to be viewed favorably. One bore the outfit of a homeless man while the other bore a singular robe, or in the eyes of the general public, a bath towel, a degenerate and a pervert. The case wasn’t much helped either seeing the ‘lover’s point,’ stood little more than a stone’s throw away. Under the shackles of the cold night, armed officers arrived at the scene.

“Good evening gentlemen,” heavy boots impacted the stone tiles, “-we’ve received calls of two weirdoes hanging at the plaza enjoying a casual smoke.”

“Officer,” said Igna frugally, “-we haven’t seen them, do take the plea someplace else. Lights from the cars sure are ripe to blind a bystander.”

“You got jokes,” the bold-faced man, stuffy and wide, “-let me enlighten, the weirdoes are you two.”

“How come?” returned the other, “-I’m dressed favorably, can you not see the silk on my robe?”

“Listen,” said the officer with dismay, “-the robe is nice an all; silk or whatever, the fact remains, the thing looks like a bath towel, and flashers have been prominent around these parts. It doesn’t please me; you’re coming to the station.” Processing the event short-circuited, Igna and the acquaintance found themselves at the station, situated at a few minutes’ walk to the train station.

Cold and rectangular, a reinforced door, empty inside save two slabs hung at knee height against the wall, held a thinly laid mattress, “-forgot to introduce myself earlier, I’m Raphael, previous archangel of restoration.”

“Previous?”

“I’m a fallen angel now,” he remarked, “-the light’s dimmed, the night feels nice, I’ll head to sleep.”

“Raphael, if thee wishes to follow me, I must implore a vow of fealty.”

“Not necessary, the contract’s been forged – proxied by Brvya. I’m bound to the Shadow Realm, thus, bound to you. A good night’s rest is rare to come upon, please, spare me the interrogation.”

“Sure, have a good night, Raphael,” reluctantly left the mouth, ‘-what’s his problem?’ the gaze firmed to a gated rectangle. Moon’s humble ray landed atop the angel, casting shadows of the iron bars onto the otherwise canescent robe. Dust held in suspense, granting the illusion of a smaller world. ‘No use arguing,’ he laid sideways and faced the grated slot, a faint passing of the stars weighed on the eyelids, ‘-a good night’s rest.’

Time elapsed, one year, in reminder, brought many changes to the world and its politics. Various reports told of the Wracia Empire’s stable foothold onto the new continent. Alphia, on the eve of August past, suffered a massive blow ending in catastrophe. Odgawoan’s borders shut, an outbreak of mutated variant of the Monster Curse led itself to be associated with the common cold. The illness, previously untraceable, showed the truly ravaging effects. After being infected, the highly contagious illness spreads onto the victim’s skin creating rashes and sores, the excruciating pain has most bedridden, a systematic attack on the internal organs has the patient fighting life and death. November marked the first case of malady reported in Hidros, more specifically, Kreston. To make matter worse, a secret report known to only the leaders of the Federation, wrote strongly about Phantom’s casualties against King Juvey’s new military, the stronger PMC, the Cobalt Unit. The borders were pushed back, Elendor stands on thin nails, another battle, and the war ended in the king’s favor. If only the battle remained on the ground, the sea, warships of castle-like proportions guarded the Marintia Bay, due south of Dreqai, preventing reinforcement and supplies to make ashore. Alongside the sea, they newly revealed an anti-air turret capable of immeasurable damage. Enough about the war, the real turmoil spawned in Arda, the queen and prince’s disappearance had the kingdom in peril. With no guidance nor aid, the Blood-King’s Faction temporarily assumed control of the throne, maintaining the status quo against belligerent nobles and angered council members. The Federation, in face of potential revolt, decreed Arda to be ruled by Queen Gallienne until the Ardanian crown was rescued. Easel Run Gard and their crumbling economy skyrocketed. Lady Elvira took a gamble in search of new materials to provide energy, abandoned mines were refurbished and excavated by their mining company, Phantom Ore, fortune shone, the discovery of Maicite. A frequently occurring ore abled to absorb mana and amplify the output – rarity aside, the sheer tenacity baffled researchers at Rotherham University. Studies proved it to be indestructible under the correct conditions.

1st of December X102, a radio played soundly beyond the door, a heavy mass halted and tapped bruskly. Much argument-sounding tone led to tinkles of keys around the lock, “-there’s no need to be in such a hurry,” said the officer.

“How dare you imprison a member of the Dukedom of Rotherham, thy sovereign.”

“I beg your pardon my lady, tis but a simple case of miscommunication...”

“Silence, fat oaf,” heels scurried inside, “-master, please wake,” the radio hummed into a recognizable voice, “-master, it’s past time you wake.”

“Can’t a man rest easy,” listless on the uptake, “-I had a hyperactive dream,” he sat, bare feet to the cold floor, “-worse thing, I can’t remember any of it.”

“MASTER,” a sudden jolt shook his core, “-excuse my familiarity,” spoke under the guise of a tight hug.

“Alta,” he returned the affection, “-I’m glad someone came.”

“The blunder is inexcusable,” side-glancing the officer, “-on thy name, I shall have the man sentenced to death.”

“Hold it with the death penalty,” he stood, “-no need for extreme, the night was pleasant.”

“Such a ruckus,” snarled adjacent the slab, “-keep it down.”

“Wake up, Raphael, laziness doesn’t befit thee.”

“Whatever.”