The New Helel

Azazil III

"Azazil." Seraphiel's voice was disapproving.

Little Azazil looked down and started to cry. "P-please don't yell."

"Your work today was horrendous. From your singing to serving Father's needs, you were horribly subpar. Who taught you such disgraceful behavior? All of the young ones did splendidly when they were handed their first tasks. All except you."

"B-but ..." Azazil blubbered. Speaking had become almost impossible.

Seraphiel softened. "Pleasing our Father is no easy task, Azazil. I know it was hard. But you have to do better."

"B-but why?"

"You are the next Helel, Azazil. You will be as perfect- no, more perfect than he ever was. And most importantly, you'll be with us in Shamayi H'Shamayim."

"Who's that?"

Seraphiel opened his mouth to nag Azazil again, but then caught himself. "Lucifer. Do you remember him?"

Azazil nodded and rubbed his eyes. "I think so. Was he a bad guy?"

Seraphiel picked Azazil up in his arms and gently kissed the top of his head.

"He was very bad, Azazil. Very bad. Can you promise me that you'll never be like him?"

Azazil held out a pinky finger. "Then can you promise you won't yell at me?"

"I'm not sure about that," Seraphiel said as he squeezed Azazil's finger. "But ... I will try to control my emotions when I get heated. Deal?"

Azazil nodded. "Deal."

*

Azazil awoke, his body drenched. Still, he was lucky that he remembered something happier, even if he did cry in it.

His hand immediately went to his necklace. Once he realized that it was still there, he breathed a sigh of relief. If he lost the last gift he received from his father... he didn't want to think about it.

For the first time since arriving in Gehinnom, Azazil realized how lost he was. With no responsibilities, he had nothing to do. The presence of demons —mainly Dareios — had clouded his thinking.

His face distorted at the thought of Dareios. Why should he, a demon of all things, be so happy?

Being a nobleman, Dareios was probably born with a golden spoon in his mouth. He had never done a menial task in his life. Azazil had suffered since he was 500, yet he never received the love that Dareios was constantly showered with. Azazil didn't have a house to return to. And sometimes, he doubted whether his father even loved him.

The thought was maddening. Demons, especially those like Dareios, were disgusting savages who deserved punishment. Not the failed angel who had tried his best and was kicked out of his home. Not the little boy who might as well have lost the love of his family. Not the man who had sacrificed so much, and still wasn't happy.

Not Azazil.

Rage burned deep in his clear, watery eyes. He clenched his hand into a fist, and his breathing grew more and more irregular.

Azazil knew that nothing was without a purpose. Perhaps this wasn't a punishment. Perhaps this was a test, one that could end in gaining his family's love. Perhaps it was all meant to be.

As his heartbeat slowed, Azazil vowed to destroy everything Dareios held dear, starting with his home. If he couldn't keep his home ... then why should Dareios?
*
In ancient texts, seraphim were often depicted as serpents with six fiery wings. The texts weren't wrong, for all seraphim had a serpentine form. Yet, overtime, their primary form had shifted. What were once serpents were now humanoids. The humanoids still kept their six wings, of course, but they weren't made out of fire. The seraphim reasoned that fire would scare humans away, and that having to continuously transform was awfully time consuming.

For millennia, the seraphim kept their humanoid forms, almost never transforming into their serpentine form. Over time, the transformation had become more and more difficult, especially for the younger seraphim. But that didn't mean that it was impossible.

Azazil sat in the center of the mansion, praying reverently. Sweat beaded down his face, and his outstretched wings shivered. He had never tried to contact his Father from such an unholy place before. He had been told that the chasm separating Gehinnom and  Shamayi H'Shamayim was strong. What if it was so strong that it blocked prayers entirely? That isn't possible ... right?

Azazil didn't get an answer, but fortunately, it didn't matter. As his shiny scales at the tips of his arms and legs crawled across his body, and his feathery white wings turned to flames, a smile spread on his face.

Few things had gone right in his life. Since his transformation did, it was a sure sign that he was on the right track.

He flew up and stretched his wings in the air, causing the chandelier to catch on fire. Once he was done, maybe, just maybe, he would go back to Shamayi H'Shamayim.