Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR -

When Uriel appeared before the Seraphim Council, the murmurs of surprise spread through the collected Angels of the Assembly until they grew into a cacophony of noise that filled the ivory pillared dome above the Council's chambers.

Up on the dais holding the three thrones of the Council, none of Seraphiel, Abdiel or raguel attempted to mask the disgust, revulsion and anger that coloured their faces.

Behind them, the headless, winged Metatron sat in rigid silence looming above them all. A pillar of fire flickered and glimmered atop of its neck. The Voice had not spoken through Sandalphon's replacement in an age. Nervous glances from those assembled looked towards the Metatron expecting that now, of all times, surely the Voice would return and intruct them? Instead, there was only the cacophony of the assembled heavenly choir reverberating through the dome.

At last, Raguel rose, spread his wings and with his arms outstretched bellowed, "Silence!"

The intensity of the great Angel's shout pierced the orchestral melee's din. The chambers began to quieten. When Raguel was satisfied with their attention to his order, he floated back to his throne, folding his wings close behind his back.

Seraphiel addressed the Archangel before them, "Uriel. I cannot begin to express how I, we all, are affected by what has happened. The loss of Tartarus, the savage attack on this heavenly city by that horde of outcasts are deep wounds inflicted on Angelkind." He rose from his throne and with a beat of his wings drew closer to Uriel. He squinted, wanting to see more of the damage but remained at a distance. The prince of the Seraphim found the scarred face repellant. "However, the wounds you have received make the others pale in comparison."

Uriel turned his bowed head up towards Seraphiel and the other Seraphim. Several deep, ragged, fresh purple wounds ahd been etched diagonally across his face. Deep welts, a missing eye and a large hooking cut that opened from the side of his mouth, down to his chin gave the Archangel a terrifying and, from an Angelic standard, unattractive leer. His once pristine white armour and robes were torn, battered and stained with purple. His wings were tattered and holed. Other wounds could be seen across his entire being. It must have been a rare fight, the assembled host thought as they listened to Seraphiel's address.

"I was only doing my duty." Uriel replied. "They are mine to bear."

"We all must bear them and endure them." Seraphiel said. "Such horror. Tell us, Uriel, what happened?"

Uriel floated upwards, still dripping purple blood from his wounds onto the bronze tablet set into the floor below him. He drifted towards one side of the dais to ensure that his wings were not turned to the Seraphim, the Metatron, or the Assembly.

"As you know, the fortress of Tartarus was where we Angels of Wrath had imprisoned Fallen, Outcasts and Watchers for the crimes they have committed against the Heavens. We Malakhim have been busy and the fortress was brimming with our prisoners. We were attacked by Azrael and her choir of Outcasts. The brave Cherubs guarding the walls were slaughtered, to an Angel."

"You are the only survivor?" Abdiel asked from the dais.

"Yes. I am."

"How did you come to be there?" Abdiel inquired.

"I was making my usual inspection of the guards. The Oustcasts appeared from the walls, without warning. We were overrun in moments. The cherubs were destroyed in the most terribkle ways. Not since the Rebellion have I seen Angels perish so." Uriel paused and let his words sink in before he continued. "Those cherubs fought on, regardless. Towards the end, Azrael came for me and we fought. As you can see, I am ashamed to admit, I was defeated. I failed. I offer my apologies to this host and offer to resign my office as Archangel."