Azrael

Eleven

Azrael sensed the presence of another figure lurking in the shadows behind a pillar in the room.

"Michael, is that you?" she asked, offering a slight smile.

Stepping forward, Michael, a striking seraph with golden hair and towering over six feet tall, revealed himself. His beauty was so dazzling that it would temporarily blind humans upon first sight, but Azrael was immune to this effect. However, he did not return her smile, and there was a good reason for it. A scar along his otherwise unblemished skin, just like Vera.

Azrael heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind her and swiftly spun around just in time to intercept an attacking werewolf midair, causing both of them to crash onto the rocky floor. The werewolf swiped its heavy paw across her face, but Azrael managed to block most of the attack, albeit receiving three deep gashes on the underside of her arm. With a powerful push, she flung the werewolf aside and quickly got back on her feet.

"What's going on?" she exclaimed aloud. Although Michael was still present in the room, she could sense his presence, he remained silent and unmoving in the shadows.

Three more werewolves stood at the entrance of the room, blocking her only way out. The space was too narrow for both of them to attack efficiently without hindering each other, so the werewolves entered one by one.

With her white shirt stained red with blood, Azrael patiently waited.

The next werewolf was much larger, and as it lunged towards her, Azrael rose to meet the challenge. Utilizing her extraordinary agility, she allowed its momentum to push her back, swiftly manoeuvring their positions. Seizing its tail, she forcefully slammed the werewolf against a nearby marble pillar. The impact shook the room, cracking the pillar and rendering the werewolf incapacitated.

Another werewolf emerged from the shadows, taking the fallen one's place.

They were not real.

Azrael shook her head, resisting the compulsion that tried to alter her perception. Only one being, or rather, not a being at all, had the power to manipulate perception at will.

"Venus," she said, her voice steady and resolute.

The three remaining werewolves transformed into ethereal wisps of light, merging to form the figure of Venus.

Describing Venus as incredibly beautiful would be an understatement. Even among Seraphim, time had no visible effect on her, and her radiance made the shadows around Michael shrink back in awe. She exuded an air of divine royalty, her confident and almost sinister beauty purposefully crafted to captivate minds.

Azrael blinked, ensuring that this wasn't another mind trick, as Venus smiled.

"Azrael. I was surprised when Vera told me you were here. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Azrael inclined her head toward the shadows. "Is this how you welcome all your friends?"

Venus pouted. "Friends don't try to kill each other."

Azrael began to protest, but Venus interrupted with a mischievous smile. "Not me. But Vera, Michael here too, and so many others."

Taking a few steps closer to Azrael, Venus caused Azrael to instinctively take a few steps back.

"You came here to find me, didn't you? Then why do you run from me?"

Azrael's eyes glowed with a hint of defiance. "The last time I came to you, you kept me imprisoned for years. Remember that?"

Venus looked down, and even the radiance surrounding her seemed to fade. The two blades that Michael carried floated through the air and into Venus's hands.