Requiem: Book One in The Apocalypse Trilogy

Chapter One

Tendrils of darkness sprawled out beneath the metal door, crawling their way up the Archangel's body. The moon’s ray shone down through the pit, barely visible through the smoke and flames that rose to the sky. The chill of the night seeped into the Archangel’s tortured body and he suppressed a shiver. His wrists burned and chaffed where the metal chains held his arms above his head. Blood had dried around the open wounds in his skin, causing a fever to spread through his body.

The Archangel slowly raised his glowing blue eyes as the battle cries, mingled with the agonizing screams of Angels and Demons, raged on above him. A pang of guilt spread through his heart, knowing there was nothing he could do for his brethren that were being slaughtered.

How long had he been kept a prisoner? The Archangel had lost count. The pain he had endured over the course of time caused him to forget. He had doubted that the pain alone, caused his memory to fade. The Archangel had chosen to forget. Remembering the endless, agonizing nights he had been here, only made his armour crack, piece by piece.

He rubbed his forehead against the crook of his arm, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. Blood, mixed with sweat and grime rubbed off onto his skin. Though it was freezing in his small chamber, the fever from his wounds caused his body temperature to rise. His tousled, sandy blonde hair was crusty with his own blood and stuck to the nape of his neck and his forehead.

The sounds of clanging metal and grinding gears caused the Archangel’s eyes to stare ahead. The metal door that was nearly a hundred feet from him, started to slowly slide open. The Archangel took in a bracing breath, flinching as his broken ribs pushed back against his lungs.

Two Demons entered the room, their soulless, black eyes glistened in the dark. The Archangel didn’t need light to see the cruel smirks on their lips, because he could feel them. His skin crawled in anticipation of what was to come. The Archangel had hoped, that this time, they would not leave him here in a heap of blood and broken bones.

He hoped they would kill him.

The Archangel flinched away from one of the Demons as it reached forward, ripping the metal chains from the wall above the Archangel’s head. His hands dropped into his lap, the chains still wrapped around his wrist and his arms ached as the blood rushed back into them from being suspended so long.

“C’mon,” The second Demon snarled, plucking the Archangel up from the ground by one of his arms. “Someone wants to speak with you.”

The Archangel stumbled forward as the first Demon, holding the chain, tugged him along. He walked behind them as they descended down the dimly lit hallway of the dungeon. The Archangel could hear the screams of other Angels from their own chambers and the sadistic cackling of the Demons that tortured them.

He kept his eyes casted down at his feet as they walked on. The Demons lead him up a flight of stairs. Bright, blinding light hit the Archangel's eyes as the three came out of the dungeon and he stumbled back away from the light as his pupils tried to adjust from a life hidden in the dark. A strange thought came to the Archangel’s mind as he blinked back the dark spots from his vision.

He felt like a rat.

“Move it!” The Demon snarled behind him, shoving the Archangel forward again.

They walked for ten more minutes before they came to stop in front of large, wooden double doors. Two other Demons, shrouded in black armour, stood on either sides of the doors. The Demons flicked their black gaze in the Archangel’s direction and he immediately cast his eyes down once more.

The doors before him slid open and the Archangel was shoved inside. He stumbled forward, almost losing his footing, but he had managed to retake control of his stance. When the Archangel lifted his eyes to gaze about him, ice filled his veins, and he took in a gasp of surprise.