Sinner's Promise

Part Two

          Mortals have created many different fantasies of what await them in the afterlife. Decades worth or representations of Gods, Demons, Angels, and Saviours. Humans have dedicated their lives to their beliefs, letting it rule them.
         Over time, the truth was broken up and scattered over different cultures like stars in the night sky.
         Four gods of unique power reigned Earth when it was first created. Trestian, Thornelius, Kasen, and Aesah. Each God played their own part, each having their own special abilities but equal in strength and wisdom. The Gods resided in the clouds, watching the world lead it's own course, life blossoming over time. Life times passed, wildlife teemed all over Earth, lush plants and trees of every possible kind beautified it's surface. Thornelius had decided to use his skills, he crafted a creature in his own image, making it intelligent, strong, beautiful. After studying the new creation, Aesah approved and let it live among the life of Earth.
        Trestian ignored the fruits of his brother's work. He found the creature useless, and boring. Instead he spent his time in his own realm, an island he created for himself. He was able to find silence, and peace when he rested there.
      Time continued to move forward and Man had thrived, but they withered away quickly. Thornelius was constantly making copies of his creation. Kasen had pointed out that they could make another creation, but one that could bare life and do the copying for them. Woman had been brought to Earth and soon Humans began to flourish and their numbers spread quickly.
       The three gods toyed with their creations, putting them through tests and obsticles. They were nothing but little dolls to do with as they pleased.
        Trestian wanted no part in the creatures that won over his brothers attention. He watched from the sidelines as the pests ran rampant and destroyed everything they touched.               They made their own rules and governed themselves. Centuries continued  and Humans began to trod over Trestian's divine works, ripping life away from the ground and killing everything around them.
     His rage was overpowering and he let chaos rain upon his brothers precious children. Illness, disease, famine, and war. He slaughted creature after creature, their crimson blood spilling until the rivers ran red. Trestian had been confined by his brothers, chained to a stone as they scorned him for his actions. They debated their brother's punishment among themselves.
     He had been casted down into an underworld, cursed to endless darkness and silence. Trestian could only watch his realm, his kingdom as it was torn apart by the hands of Man.
    Time never ended, never slowed peace sang among Man and Aesah's evergrowing family.Aesah's legacy continued on, seeming to never end.  
    His True Children were blessed with white pure wings, allowing then to fly and go between worlds. Man received gifts from the gods: creativity, music, arts, and wisdom.
       In the years he had been forgotten, Trestian perfected his own creations, and prepared the beautiful gifts he still had to bestow upon his brother's pristine creations.
     His children were perfect, created also in his image: sleek, seductive, cunning, intelligent, strong. Their wings, crafted from obsidian, mocked those of Aesah's offspring. Trestian had created an army, one that he could control from his prison.
       Greed, lust, gluttony, wrath, sloth, pride, and envy. These were the first gifts of Trestian, weaving themselves into the souls of his brothers prized work.
       Decades had continued on and war among the gods had began. Trestian's children had tormented Man, having their way with their shell of a body and then stealing their souls.
       The Demons, as humans called them, began to work their way into Aesah's realm, converting the Angels with their sinful ways, making them fall to Earth and stripping them of their wings, leaving them to die on ground.
          Archangels had been created to keep Demons at bay, fighting against them. Jiro was the daughter of Autrues and Demis, grandchildren of the God Kasen. She had started from the bottom slowly working her way up to Commander.
       Rapheal had been her right hand, fighting along her side in the endless Battle of The Gods.
        Life passed slowly for Jiro, slaying the Demons that corrupted her kind had been her main focus. In all that time she had lost count of how many comrades she lost, some dissappearing, others being ripped from her side, wings being torn viciously from thier backs and left to die. True Children's wings were prized among Demons, Trestian keeping them as bloody trophies.
           Both sides kept coming back stronger, Angels receiving different skills on the subject of war, Demons surprising them with new ways killing.
      After continuesly having people she cared for torn apart or banished enraged Jiro. She trained harder, letting anger take control and blind her. She went to Trestian herself, a battle quickly lost.
       She was broken and bleeding, being held down as her wings were merciless ripped from her body. She felt as bones were first broken, muscle and skin tearing apart from each other and white hot pain rushed through her and screams echoed off the prison walls of her great Uncle, blood being spilled from her body and soaking her back in its heat.
      She was left, barely alive on cold stone. She raised her eyes, staring into sinister black eyes before fading off into nothingness.