Paradise End

2 - Present

200 years later...

           Today in eternity was turning out to be a miserable mood.

The streets grew cold and dreary with each passing step, a gentle rain pit-pattering against the brick below. The rain came down mixing with the frigid air to shroud the city in a dismal dreary day. Alleyways sheltered cats and souls from the thunderless storm above, the brisk air making each breath an inch farther and farther from warmth.

In one of the nearby alleyways lining the street of 4062 Vega, a darkened tall shape passed through the fray. The alley remained empty, minus a few loitering rats, as the figure moved carefully out from the shadows into the cloudy stale light.

At the exit, Razael paused. Lifting up his palm, he let the cold water sting against the skin of his hand before pulling back. Studying the drop of the rain, an underlying current floating beneath his senses. It seems the agency is on its toes... His gaze drifted back to the street, following the soul of a mother and child ambling about on the brick road. His gaze followed them, turning to a townhouse facing the road, and likewise the neighborhood, at the end of the block. He shifted on his toes.

The sound of his knock against the townhouse's stale tannin-brown wood on the front door fell onto a terse silence. As if they'd answer, I don't know why Captain Heze insists on knocking...

Razael hovered at the doorstep, letting his form feel the electricity in the air around him. Electricity and...

Silence. Tense and taut, it hugged the rain decorated neighborhood. A rat scurried across the edges of the sewer somewhere. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a dog releasing slews of frenzied barks. The sound of a click and release followed by an arrow slicing the taut line in the environment.

Thunk. The arrow lodged itself into the door's wood, inches above his shoulder. Razael scanned the rooftops for his assailant, growing impatient with each cold drop of rain, "I suggest you stop firing now if you wish to be spared, I'm only here for your uncle."

Razael felt the speed of another missile hurtle towards him before ducking and letting it fly over his head. Foolish humans-- letting their emotions get the better of them like that. A life form to the south signaled his senses.

He continued to feel the air for his attacker's presence, searching the sound of water splashing beneath the feet of passersby. "Please," He raised his voice, "You're not the one I'm here for. I have strict orders; you don't have to make me your enemy."

Razael could feel the violent surge of energy before he saw the grenade being launched in his direction. The projectile rushed towards him -- clattering onto the brick in front of his feet. An orange flash and thunderous bellowing bolt hurtled up in the air, echoing across the entire block.

On a nearby bell tower, near the edge of an open platform, a lone archer watched the chaos, releasing a breath as the rain drizzled down in harder hushed whispers.

"That wasn't very nice," Razael pulled the archer girl back by the collar of her shirt on the platform. He went for her crossbow, ripping it from her inexperienced grip, throwing it off the edge of the tower. He turned to the girl; his face locked in a frown, hers widening.

"You think I'm just gonna let you take him!?" The girl lunged, throwing one of the sloppiest punches he'd seen in a very long time. He countered swiftly, tackling her by the stomach with his weight, pushing her back up against the wall of the bell tower. "Stop,"

She tried to get back up, only to crumble back down at the foot of the wall again. "I said stop. You'll only hurt yourself more."

The girl whimpered, looking up in the dim light, "Whatever he owes you I'll do anything! Take me instead—take whatever he owes you I'll pay it in full!" She cried, her chest growing labored as her pleads turned to tears. Razael hovered on the platform, his eyes tracing her face, searching the electricity in the air for the sound of her heartbeat. Listening to the sound of her truth over lies.

Razael kept his eyes framed on her, "You really believe your life can possibly stand in his place?" He walked closer, the organism at his feet pressing up against the concrete, "What's stopping me from taking these hands of mine and tearing a hole in your chest where your heart should be?" He asked, inching nearer and nearer until his cold eyes stared her in the face, "A debt is a debt. Only he can repay it. No soul is the same—all debts are set in stone. No one, not even I can change that." He stood straight, stepping back, "In the name of your courage, I'm sparing you. Consider this my way of showing mercy." He turned, stepping to the edge of the open bell tower. "Wait," he heard her croak, seeing her hand reaching out to him, "Spare him. Please, I-I don't know how to move on."

The angel gritted his teeth, stiffening. "If you want my advice; pick yourself up off that ground and start walking. Just don't let me see you again."

The stairs creaked as Razael stepped up onto the last landing in the townhouse. His frosty attention falling on an open door swinging in the hallway, a soft wind howling from the outside. The rain fell gently against the windowpane at the end of the shadowy corridor.

"Is that you out there?" A voice drifted out into the hall.

Razael stepped forward, inching into the frame. His eyes landed on a pale bed against the wall of the room. Under the pale-yellow sheets, the soul of a much older man sat up, watching as he entered into the doorway.

The old man's eyes flashed in recognition, "I thought it was you." His cheeks lifted up slowly in a reminiscent smile, "I knew it in my soul that was you – the way it ran up and down the edges like a cleansing tide." He said, planting his feet on the chestnut wood below. "After all, debts don't just disappear now do they. One doesn't just risk their soul and forget about it. Yes, I'm old but I'm not that old."

Razael's footsteps neared the center of the room. His fingers hung low at his side.

The old man paused at the edge of his bed, the sense of his heartbeat in the current of the room magnifying. "My God—look at you; You haven't changed a bit."

Razael looked towards the ground, "I don't suppose you thought killing me would rid you of the debt, did you?"

"No—not at all." The old man stood, releasing a huff. "This is my debt to bear and mine alone. Anita didn't give you any trouble outside, did she?"

He paused, shaking his head, "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Very well—" The old man stopped, leaning in towards Raz's gaze. "Hang on." He murmured, "Everything else is the same – I knew I recognized the hair, the horns, your face. But those eyes," He murmured, "They're softer."

The angel tensed, a chill creeping up his back. He reached his hand out, holding out his palm. The embers in the fireplace crackled gently between them. Raz knew it was only a matter of moments, but he had to know... "Was it worth it?"

The old man took a step back, his lips quivering in a delayed response. They pushed upwards into a smile, "I'll never be sure. But at least I got to see the gates. At least now, Anita has a chance."

The angel extended his hand. The old man took a longer breath before he reached his own hand to the angels, wrapping his fingers in a gentle shake. Magic weaved under and under and under, one soul falling into another until there was no longer a soul to wrap around. Until nothing remained in the room but a trembling angel next to a pit of pulsing heatless embers.

Yet still, the ghost of the old man's words echoed in Raz's mind; You're eyes -- they're softer.