CASTIEL'S REQUIEM

Chapter 35: Attack

"Attack!" Thousands of winged creatures jumped to Cariel's command, flying into West Dawn City, decimating everything in their path and leaving destruction in their wake. Humans ran in all directions, deserting their vehicles at the sight of the red-eyed winged men and women, whose wings, although made of soft-looking feathers, cut through metal like razors on soft paper.

They were more scared of the silver-eyed, familiar-looking woman who led the army. The entire city was in chaos, buildings on fire as Cariel and her minions set everything in their wake aflame. The sirens of fire trucks and the DCPD patrol cars could be heard whining like dying cats.

"Stop, or I will be forced to shoot!" a young blond cop shouted, pointing his gun at Cariel. Cariel smirked, then moved fast - a blur of blue was all that was seen - and disarmed him, pointing the gun at the surprised cop. "Your pathetic weapons cannot harm us," Cariel said, then broke the Glock in half and handed the ruined weapon back to the petrified cop, before snapping his neck.

Seeing an African American reporter who had been recording the whole incident, she moved towards him. The man, noticing he was now the villain's new plaything, tried to run.
"Oh no you don't, human," she said to the man, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. She grasped his arm, her grip like a vice, and pulled him closer. "You are going to record this, and I'm going to spare you if you comply." The man nodded, eager to obey, not wanting to die. She snatched the camera from his hand and held it up, her face filling the screen. "I want you to deliver a message to my sister, Castiel Wellington. Tell her to meet me at the City Square in one hour, or I'll destroy her entire city." She paused, her gaze piercing. "And tell her I'm not making idle threats." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the camera back to the reporter, who fumbled to catch it. "Now go!" she commanded, releasing her grip on his arm and shoving him away.

—_—

Twenty three hours earlier.
The council of angels was gathered in the grand hall, their usual serenity and wisdom replaced by an air of anticipation and tension. The atmosphere was heavy with expectation, as if the very fate of the universe hung in the balance. Some angels fidgeted with anxiety, their wings rustling softly as they shifted in their seats. Others stood rigid, their eyes fixed on Saraquiel, their faces set in stern masks.

The room was filled with whispers and hushed conversations, as the angels speculated about the reason for the urgent gathering. Some spoke in hushed tones of Castiel's recent actions, their voices laced with concern and doubt. Others debated the possible consequences of her defiance, their words tinged with worry and fear.

Despite their usual harmony, the council was divided, their opinions and loyalties split along lines of duty, friendship, and belief. The air was thick with the weight of their conflicting emotions, creating a palpable sense of unease that hung like a cloud over the assembly.
Saraquiel's voice echoed through the grand hall, her words weighted with gravity. "On account of crimes against humanity, two counts against divinity, and one count of disobedience to the Enochian rules, in agreement with the glorified elders, the council, and divinity, I declare Castiel Azrael, 'angel of melodies and death,' officially a rogue, a fallen, and she will be completely stripped of her powers as punishment for her crimes."

As the declaration resonated through the chamber, gasps and protests erupted from the assembled angels. Some were shocked, their faces pale and their eyes wide with disbelief. Others were elated, their faces set in stern masks, relieved that justice had finally been served. The archangels and guardians, who had known Castiel for eons, were enraged, their faces red with anger and their eyes blazing with fury.

The hall itself seemed to darken, as if the very light had been drained from the room. The air grew thick with tension, heavy with the weight of the pronouncement. The last angel to receive such a punishment was Lucifer, the morning star, and even he had not been stripped of all his powers. The severity of Castiel's sentence was a stark reminder of the gravity of her crimes.

—_—

"Hate to be the one breaking off your pity fest, but I've got news, girls. You both are gonna die," a voice announced from the walls, startling both Uriel and Castiel. Uriel jumped off Castiel's embrace as the latter turned toward the owner of the voice, to see Paul Landon, accompanied by an army of demons, pointing guns at both angels.

"Guns, really? Come on, Asmodeus, you think those are gonna hurt us?" Uriel scoffed at the demon's stupidity.

"Oh, I know," Paul said, his smile widening with satisfaction. "Which was why I had the Askha and Purita made into bullets." He watched with delight as both Castiel and Uriel paled, their faces drained of color.

The mention of the Askha and Purita, powerful angelic artifacts, turned into bullets, sent a chill down their spines. They knew they were in grave danger, and their usual angelic confidence was shaken.

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