Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER THIRTY TWO -

The cavern's ceiling blazed with a majestic white and golden light. Its intensity burned away every resevoir of shadow in the underground gloom. The holy light spilled around the faux stalagmites and boulder that were Azrael, Camael and Mithras.

In the midst of the trumpeting cacophony, three pairs of bright white feathered wings descended from the light. The first two wore pristine white robes underneath their silver and gold armour. Long, gold spun cinctures about their waists signified their status as Angels of Wrath. Behind them a dazzling white breast plate shone brighter, and with it a pair of radiant green eyes alight with fury, judgement and revulsion. The face itself was a mask of rage.

Azrael thought to herself, Uriel.

Hovering over the segmented body of the slain legionary, Azrael watched him circle the corpse. The golden tassels of his cincture twisted scant inches above the remains. He waved his sword of rollicking red fire towards the corners of the cavern. The white hot fires of his eyes accented his unsheathed golden sword of fire and anger. Crisscrossing the corpse strewn cavern, Uriel's face was beautiful but filled with an anger that made him look ugly to Azrael. He drifted around the body. Prodding it with the spirit blade, he held its flames against the body. His expression was vacant as he floated, listening to the flesh hiss and pop as it burned. The compelling urge to reveal herself and fight him grew within Azrael's being. Had he no respect for the dead?

Her agitation growing with every moment, she heard Mithras' voice hiss inside her mind. "Don't! He hopes you're here. He's doing this on purpose. Let it go Azrael!"

She knew he was right, but not responding didn't feel as though it was the correct path. This was the last place she wanted to end up: hiding from the Angels as though she was the one who had done wrong. She felt degraded every time she vanished because of their arrival. Usually, she had already dealt with the spirit whose crime had brought them hurtling towards the world in their epic bad moods.

Azrael tried to distract herself from what was happening by remembering the first time she and Uriel crossed paths. It was immediately after the Fall of Lucifer and his Angels, when she had met the Seraphim Council for the first time.

After the disappearance of the undecided Angels who chose not to fight in the failed rebellion, the Seraphim struggled to calm the remaining host. Once their buzzing ceased and order was restored in the assembly, the Seraphim called for the Watcher found on the battle scarred Elysian plains. Ushered to the very spot where the Fallen stood before their expulsion, a floating ring of Cherubs guarded the Watcher.

The three Angels of the Council looked down on this strange Watcher glowing with dark silver light. Seraphiel demanded to know her name.

"I am Azrael, bene ha-Elohim and a watcher of the world." She replied.

"You are not the Azrael we know of," Seraphiel said.

"I have only just received the form I now hold," Azrael said.

Daring them to claim otherwise, her silvered light crackled with defiance. The light spun about her appearance until she became the mirrored silhouette of fire with an unblinking eye burning at its center. "Our Creator granted me a new form."

The council recognized her when their own light reflected back on their faces.

"Very well, Azrael." Seraphiel said. "Where have you been? Where were you during the rebellion? You have been called to appear before us many times and left our summons unheeded. Why have you chosen now, of all occasions, to answer?"