Moonbound and Undying

Chapter 4: The Fall of the Nephilim

The night air was cool, the silver light of the crescent moon casting long shadows across the village. Michael stood in silence, his wings folded behind him, his gaze fixed on the ground. He hadn't spoken for some time, lost in thought, as memories from long ago stirred in the depths of his mind. The weight of the past pressed heavily on him tonight, as though the meeting with Amaris had triggered something deep within him—something he had spent centuries trying to forget.

The cosmic war.

Michael closed his eyes, willing the memories to stay buried, but they came anyway, relentless in their force. He had tried to forget, tried to move on, but the past was a living thing, always waiting in the shadows, ready to rise to the surface.

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The heavens had once been a place of harmony, a realm of light and peace where angels walked freely among humans. They had guided humanity, offering wisdom and protection, helping mortals grow and flourish. But with time, that harmony began to fray.

Michael remembered the first Nephilim—the children born from the forbidden unions between angels and mortals. At first, they had seemed like miracles, beings of incredible power and beauty, combining the best of both worlds. But as the Nephilim grew in number, so too did their influence. Their power was unlike anything the world had seen before—raw, untamed, and dangerous. They were neither fully angel nor fully human, and that imbalance gave rise to chaos.

Michael had watched as the Nephilim spread across the Earth, their power growing unchecked. They were stronger, faster, more resilient than humans, and their abilities were beyond what any mortal could control. What had begun as something beautiful, something sacred, soon became a force of destruction.

"They're out of control," Raziel had warned, his voice laced with unease. "They're too powerful. If we don't act soon, they will tear the world apart."

Michael had known that Raziel was right. He had seen it himself—how the Nephilim, once pure and full of promise, had become corrupted by their own strength. Their lust for power had grown insatiable, their thirst for control unmatched. They no longer sought to guide humanity, but to rule it.

"It was never supposed to be this way," Michael had whispered, his eyes scanning the horizon as dark clouds gathered above. "We were supposed to protect them."

But protection had turned into destruction. The Nephilim, consumed by their own power, had begun to challenge the very fabric of creation. They wielded their gifts with reckless abandon, tearing at the boundaries between the physical and spiritual realms. Entire cities had fallen beneath their might, the earth itself trembling beneath their footsteps.

And so, the war began.

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The sky had been dark with storm clouds the day the war broke out. Michael stood at the forefront of the angelic host, his sword gleaming in the dim light, his wings spread wide as he prepared for battle. Raziel stood at his side, his face grim and determined, but there was no mistaking the sorrow in his eyes.

"This is the only way," Raziel had said, though Michael knew the words were as much for his own benefit as for Michael's.

Michael had nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. The Nephilim were their children, born of their union with mortals, and yet here they were, preparing to destroy them. It felt wrong, a betrayal of everything they had once believed in. But there was no choice. The Nephilim had become a threat not only to humanity but to the balance of creation itself.