Darksiders: Falling to Grace

Chapter VII

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - what do you mean if?" Ayil asked whilst her violet eyes widened.

Death glanced and her and motioned Ayil towards a different path. One covered in fog and reeked of, hmm, death. She was stuck on her question though. Dust cawed and landed upon her shoulder.

"I'm serious Death. What do you mean?" But the Nephilim continued to avoid it. He just lead along till they arrived at his home.

It had a small stable where Despair stayed and he stomped his hooves. Green fire blazing. A training ground took place just behind it. But the house itself, was huge. It ran almost four an a half stories tall, two normal human homes wide.
The outside had a weak grey hue with beautiful false spine shutters. The windows were tinted and the pillars were made from actual demon spines.

Death approached the black door and opened it, allowing Ayil to walk in first. Instead of walking, the angel rushed in just to see the view, forgetting their conversation. A chandelier made completely out of deceased angel's wings rested in the very center of the room just shy of a set of stair cases.

Ayil thought it strange. She felt no remorse, no shame.

"You know my brother like anyone else. You're just another problem for us to take care of. Pure and simple." Death says rolling his orang-ish eyes at her seeing her act like a child.

"Death!" A voice called. The Pale Rider adverts his gaze back out the door and seen the violet haired Nephilim rushing. "It's urgent."

Death eyes opened wide. "What is it?"

"The. The Council knows." Worry filled his sister's throat.

He looked over his shoulder at Ayil who was completely oblivious to their conversation. She slid down the railing and ran up the stairs continuously. He pointed. Fury nodded.
"Damn it. What do they want?"

"To see us. All. Immediately." Her eyes widened in fear of what might happen.

"Should've known this would happen." Death grunted whilst shaking his head. Completely disgruntled.

***

The Horsemen bowed to the Council. Neither of them gazing at the monuments, other than War, who never associated with the fallen angel. A smirk played his features under his renouned red hood. Eyes giving their signature glow.

Strife shot through a dimensional doorway and appeared by War. The brothers exchanged glares before turning their attention back to the Council.
After doing so, the Charred Council dismisses War.

"We are a bit dismayed by your actions. Especially you, Death." The yellow eyed Nephilim rose his masked face to the stone monuments scolding them.

"But-" Fury started but didn't dare finish. Knowing what would happen if she did.

"We were only helping her." Strife interrupted. A sense of arrogance filled his lungs.

"It disrupts the balance! And you know it!" Another yelled towards the male. "Now because of your careless actions-"

"Careless?!?" Strife glared. "What we - no, what I did," he began taking the blame for he did not want his siblings to feel the Council's wrath. "Was anything but careless." His voice eased.
Fury's eyes filled with sorrow. She hated him for taking the blame.

"Strife, I think you've pissed them off enough." Death whispered. And that he did. Although the monuments couldn't show emotion, all three knew that Strife was in some deep shit. The lave grew hotter and changed to a more, you could say, dark, colour.