Fallen Angel

Chapter 17.1

The day started out nicely, but ominous clouds formed an impenetrable wall in front of the sun as Michael walked the Earth. He didn't like grey days. He liked winds and storms even less. But they were necessary sometimes. The thing he hated most, though, was mist. Mysterious. Dangerous. The perfect instrument to hide something - or someone.
The mist was God's way of shrouding Samael's presence in the Mortal Realm. He was known to all under his more common name and title, the Angel of Death. Samael stood equal to the Archangels, but he barely spent any time in the Vale, choosing solitude over comradery. And there was something about the man that drove Michael to distrust him. In some distant memory, he recalled that another had carried that title. Then, one day, Samael had just appeared.

The Almighty had seen fit to make him a guide to those who had died. To this day, Michael could not understand why, nor what or who Samael truly was, but he would never claim he failed in his duty. He appeared in many places at once, whenever and wherever he was needed, bringing the souls to Peter so the Keeper of the Gates could pass judgment over them. Though, sometimes someone's soul was so depraved, rotten, and corrupted that there was no need for judgment. It was a one-way ticket to the Circles then.
Occasionally, Samael was charged to offer a way back to those who died too soon because of an anomaly in their predetermined fate. Yet, in the past decades, mortals became more resilient to death, mainly because of a revolution in medicine and improved living conditions. Samael grew less inclined to return souls to their bodies, and Michael had been forced to remind him he was to follow orders more than once. They had nearly come to blows over it last they spoke.
It was why Michael dreaded to face Samael now. But he had no choice. The Angel of Death was the only one who could safely guide him to Morpheus. He just hoped he would agree to help.

The Lord Protector continued cautiously through the foggy graveyard. Though he did not know where he was exactly, the names on the graves indicated Scotland, or possibly Ireland. Michael's Earthly attire, a black suit and tie, appropriately adapted to the sinister setting. Still, if needed, he could instantly transform his clothes back into his armour. Demons always lurked in the mist and shadows. They knew their prize for tormenting the recently deceased might be awarded earlier whenever the Angel of Death was near. 
Finally, Michael spotted Samael under a crooked oak tree, overseeing a funeral further ahead. With every step Michael took toward him, his features became clearer. He was about the same height, his hair a light copper, with a golden shine, and his skin fair. His dark grey tailored suit befitted his neutral status in the Lord's design.
Michael stopped a few feet behind him and took a breath. He needed to prepare himself before he faced the man.

"You fear me still, Lord Protector?" he heard Samael ask.

"You frighten many, Samael," replied Michael. "I have already grown accustomed to your face."

"Hm, somehow, I find that awfully hard to believe."

The Angel of Death turned around, and Michael did his best not to flinch. No matter how often he saw Samael, he was still a frightful sight to behold. From afar, the man looked handsome enough. But up close, the horror of what he really was became apparent.
Samael's face showed both the beauty and goodness found in light and a monster that could only dwell in the heart of darkness. Fair, warm skin graced his right side. His virescent green eye made one think of the grass in springtime. But the left half of his face was horrendous and mangled with scars. His eye held no coloured iris, no pupil even, but was completely white, giving the impression he was blind there.
Some chose to focus on the good and keep an open mind upon first meeting the Angel of Death, but to Michael (and many others), Samael was a being of nightmares. 

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Last time we spoke, we did not see eye to eye with each other."

"I am in need of your... skills," said Michael. "I require you to guide me to the Dream Realm."