CASTIEL'S REQUIEM

Chapter 4: Reborn

Los Angeles: California 1992

Cordy's scream echoed through the air as she plummeted down the cliff, her horror giving way to resignation. She knew she wouldn't survive, but her concern was for her family, whom she was relieved to see had made it out alive. The vehicle crashed at the bottom of the valley, exploding on impact with the rocks. Flames engulfed the wreckage, racing towards Cordy with terrifying speed.
She struggled against the seatbelt, kicking and screaming as she tried to free herself, but her lower body seemed paralyzed. The flames consumed her, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air.

A searing pain exploded in her shoulder blades as she finally broke free from the inferno, her skin ablaze. She stumbled out of the wreckage, her body a human torch, the agony unbearable.

Cordy's intestines felt like they were about to rupture, and with a strangled, anguished cry, she realized her life was slipping away. "I guess I deserve this for being born," she spat out the words, her voice laced with bitter despair, the phrase torn from her lips as her vision began to fade. With these final, tortured words, Cordy's consciousness succumbed to the darkness, her body succumbing to the devastating injuries.

—_–

The mockingbird's tweet pierced the air next to her ear, its melodic voice magnified to a deafening decibel, making her cringe. The bird's trills sounded like they had been amplified a hundredfold, the sudden, jarring noise threatening to shatter her eardrums. Wincing in agony, she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the harsh, piercing rays of the sun, her body succumbing to the overwhelming sensory assault as she lost consciousness again.

—_—

The excruciating pain at her back was the first thing she felt when her consciousness was restored.
Opening her eyes, Cordy jumped up in fright when she realised she was lying on the ashes of an entirely burnt vegetation, naked as the day she was born. Cordy was surprised, for she recalled vividly that she had died or was supposed to, she had fallen down a cliff and survived,no actually she remembered being on fire, infact come to think of it everything within miles had burnt to ashes, she mused as she rose up despite like nakedness, it was not like anyone anyone could see her for all she knew she was all alone.

Cordy's mind raced as she realized she was standing and walking despite her broken lower limbs. This was the second instance of such an inexplicable phenomenon in her life. The first time, she was ten, with no recollection of the events or any memories prior. But that time, she hadn't been engulfed in flames or surrounded by death. The soldiers... the soldiers were all she remembered.
Overwhelmed with frustration and despair, Cordy's heart broke as she felt like she was back at square one, with no answers, only questions. She sat down, rubbing her wrist - a habit she'd picked up from Nicky Givens, a comforting gesture for when she felt angry, scared, or confused.

As she rested her head on her knees, her hands clasped together like a pillow, Cordy let out a mournful wail. She would never see her loved ones again - Mitch, Nicky, Danny, or Chase. Her life was effectively over; her death would be announced soon. The thought sent her into a fresh wave of despair.

Cordy knew that if she showed up, it would spark a maelstrom of attention. The whispers of her resurrection would spread like wildfire, and the government would inevitably get involved. They would probe and interrogate her, seeking answers about her miraculous survival, her unblemished skin, and her frozen age. They would uncover the truth - that she had stopped aging at eighteen, and that her youthful appearance wasn't the result of plastic surgery, as everyone had assumed.

"God damn it!" Cordy exclaimed, her voice shaking with frustration as she gazed upwards, pleading for a sign, any sign, to illuminate the darkness that had engulfed her life. "Who did this to me? Who the hell am I?" she ranted, her anger and desperation echoing into the void.

As if the heavens themselves had responded to Cordy's anguish, the sky transformed from a brilliant blue to a foreboding grey, then plunged into an inky blackness. Lightning illuminated the dark canvas, its fiery tendrils dancing like macabre fireworks. A rogue thunderbolt hurtled towards Cordy, striking her chest with precision, as if guided by an unseen force.

Another bolt lifted her up, suspending her in mid-air, as a murder of ravens swirled around her, their dark silhouettes disappearing into her skin like specters. The storm raged on, its fury unrelenting, until it abruptly subsided, leaving behind a serene blue sky.

Cordy collapsed, her vision blurring, but as she opened her eyes, she found herself transformed. She wore a sleek black leather jacket and pants, her once-dyed mullet now a vibrant blonde, its original color. Her electric blue eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom, and a mischievous smirk played on her full red lips.
With a newfound confidence, Cordy stood tall, her gaze piercing the horizon, as if ready to confront the secrets that had haunted her for so long.

"El sapliël liyez påyavën," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as a magnificent ten-foot sword materialized in her left hand. The ancient words, meaning "Father, let your will be done," held a deep significance, and with this manifestation, she realized her purpose and understood that her trials were part of a larger design. A triumphant laugh escaped her lips as she acknowledged her awakening and her victory in the wager she had made with her sisters.

Now, she sought to escape the valley and shed her human identity, Cordelia Winston, for she was never truly human. She was Castiel Azrael, the Archangel of Death, known to her siblings as the Raven and to humans as the Grim Reaper. With this knowledge, she stretched her limbs, and majestic midnight-colored wings, spanning the width of a small car, unfurled from her back. Grinning, Castiel ascended into the sky, her wings beating powerful and slow, until she vanished into the distance, leaving the forsaken valley behind.

***

Translations: El sapliël liyez påyavën (thy will be done Father) I made this up .

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Mae