Death’s Demise
The wind roared upon the mountaintop, lashing at the figure atop the summit. Ice cold fingers struck as it whipped about his body, seemingly doing all it could to throw him from where he stood. A soft sigh escaped his throat, torn away by the air as it rushed past his face, carrying the sound across the horizon.
Despite the harsh conditions he found solace in this desolate place, man had not yet conquered this mountain and his brethren rarely ventured from the Heavens, unless their Father required something. At least here he could be free of them.
Suddenly the wind became silent, as though he had gone deaf. He turned his head, feeling the air against his face, his eyes fixed on the figure approaching him.
“I thought I would find you here,” Raegul said, her voice soothing, barely a whisper but perfectly audible in the void she had created, “The others might not know where to look, brother, but you cannot fool me.”
“I wouldn’t even try. Even if you were not my twin you are one of the wisest of us. Tricking you is a futile endeavour,” he replied, turning to face her.
“If only others amongst our siblings were as quick to that realisation, maybe then I could rest easier.” She smiled, reaching her hands to him, palms facing the sky. “I wish you would let Artiya’il visit you. I know that you have been avoiding my daughter, it is her duty to remove grief, let her judge you for herself.”
He stepped forward, placing his hands into her own, fingers wrapping around her dainty wrists. His bright blue eyes glowed with an ethereal light, what humans referred to as a ‘halo’. His gaze focussed upon the grey silk that covered her eyes, it matched the colour they had once been, before Raegul had gone completely blind.
“Sammael,” she uttered gently, “you may not have to suffer the pain of her loss, let Arti see you. I know in my heart that she will judge in your favour, not because you are my brother, but because you do not deserve to suffer. Alina is in a good place, you know that.”
“A place I cannot go Rae, I can never see my daughter again. For all that I am, for all that I do in my duties to Father, I cannot have this one thing?”
“Do you resent him?” She asked.
Sammael looked away from her, staring at the whirling black clouds as the wind moved through them, all the more eerie now that he could no longer hear it.
He didn’t know how to answer her question. He knew what he wanted to say, but he also knew better of it. Of course he resented their Father, He was omnipotent, if anyone could have brought his daughter back it was He.
“It does not matter,” he replied, “I have my duty to Him regardless, Gabriel would point out that I was warned against my ‘indiscretion’, and that this was the Fate I resigned myself to.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do, I knew better. Angels follow orders, not their hearts. Lucifer’s Fall should have taught me that.”
Raegul snorted, throwing his wrists from her hands as though he had burned her with his touch. “Those are Gabriel’s words, not your own. Be careful not to listen to our sibling too closely, he teeters on the edge of a sword made of his own ego, one day his pride will be his downfall. Remember that. As for Lucifer, you know nothing of his Fall.”
He sighed, running his fingers through his ghair, glancing at his sister as she moved around him gracefully. She never ceased to amaze him, despite the loss of her sight and her wings (a ‘gift’ from Gabriel’s aforementioned pride) Raegul let nothing stop her, you would never have suspected she was blind.
Sammael turned to her, wrapping his arms about her waist, pulling her close. Powerful feathered wings of pure white, enveloped her as they embraced. “I will take your words into consideration, as always, and I am sorry for what I said about Lucifer.”
“Good. Now, will you please speak with Artiya’il?”
Sammael sighed and hung his head, for all his twin’s neutrality in her duties there was one thing where she held bias, and that was when he was concerned. If Raegul had to judge him then she would do so, but when she did not need to be fair she would always side with him.
“I promise not to avoid her anymore, how does that sound?”
Raegul snorted, patting his cheek with a smirk, “I shall take it.”
Thunder cracked above their heads, followed by the boom of a celestial horn. They turned their faces to the Heavens, as the sound surrounded them. Golden light broke through the dark clouds, and they parted as a stairway composed of white marble descended.
Sammael relinquished his sister from his grasp, stepping to her side. He took Raegul’s hand, and led her up, his gaze fixed upon the figure stood at the top of the staircase. Even at this distance Sammael knew who waited, whenever he visited Earth there were only two people who would linger, reprimand poised on the tip of their tongue, upon his return.
It was Uriel, Gabriel’s attack dog clearly eager to bark at him for leaving without permission. He tired of her desperate need to please Gabriel, it was bad enough catering to the latter’s galaxy sized ego without his puppet’s involvement.
Leading Raegul up the last steps, Sammael glanced at their sister, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at them. “Greetings Uriel,” he said with a nod, knowing that his courteousness would only infuriate the younger Angel.
“Don’t pretend to be nice to me Sammael, Gabriel has been searching for you, Father has a task for you and He could not find you,” she snapped, wings twitching with annoyance.
“I find it difficult to believe that Father could not find me should He have wished to,” Sammael replied, glancing at Raegul, realising that she was trying not to laugh as he goaded their sibling.
Uriel growled and stepped towards him menacingly, or as best she could given she was two foot shorter than he, “Your arrogance will be your downfall Sammael, one day Father will tire of your insolence and then He will find himself a new Angel of Death.”
“Maybe so Uri, but that will never be you. Until that point I suggest you tread carefully and speak with more decorum to your superiors,” a voice chimed, and the three turned to face the speaker, Raegul smiling. “Now, go away, I need to speak with Sammael before he goes to Father. Shoo shoo. Go nip at Gabriel’s heels,” Artiya’il added, her monotoned pitch barely taking on more than a hint of amusement.
Uriel glared at them, growled in frustration and strode away, Sammael watched as she strode through the Gates into the Golden City.
“You will have to watch her, daughter mine - she will bite one day.”
“Let her. Uriel does not frighten me, and she would regret it,” Artiya’il replied nonchalantly, her storm grey eyes on Sammael as she raised an eyebrow at him, “I’ve been looking for you. It’s time you let me remove that which weighs heavily upon your heart Uncle. Death carries enough burdens without the demise of his daughter, your grief is mine to carry.”
“Do not be so hasty to add more colour to your feathers Arti,” Sammael replied kindly, eyeing the red tainting the tips of her white feathers, and that of her hair, “You carry the grief of those you have visited on Earth, you do not need mine as well.”
Artiya’il snorted, rolling her eyes at him, “It is my duty, and my privilege, not my burden nor my curse, as others amongst us might believe. Go, see our Father, I will find you later,” she added, taking her mother’s hand from his. “You will not be able to avoid me, I will find you, no matter where you attempt to hide.”
He watched them leave, taking a moment to look back at the summit of Mount Everest, as the stairway began to dissolve, the clouds returning to obscure his view. He turned away, head held high as he strode through the ornate, golden gates, heading for his Father’s throne room.
His brethren greeted him along the way. Amongst the Archangels, he had garnered respect, while his Father might have created him, and given him his duty as Angel of Death, it was Sammael who had shown his prowess, and literally carved himself a reputation.
He was reliable, when God called, he answered. When God told him to eliminate someone, destroy a village, eradicate a nation or annihilate a species… Sammael complied, with grace and poise. Though recently, his duties had begun to weigh more heavily upon his shoulders.
The untimely death of his daughter, and the circumstances in which they had occurred, had made the Archangel reassess himself, and the duties he was asked to perform – a dangerous train of thought, one that had led to Lucifer’s expulsion from Heaven and subsequent exile to the Pit. Angels were created for a purpose, they were designed as obedient soldiers, he was meant to take his orders and carry them out. That was all. He had ‘defied’ his Father with his relationship to Morta, let alone with the birth of Alina.
Now he had lost both – a reminder that he was a tool for God, and nothing more. God had not taken them, nor had God stopped it. He could already hear Michael’s rendition of ‘Father works in mysterious ways’ in his head, and it irked him.
His thoughts carried him to the elaborate throne room where his Father spent his time, watching over Earth, amusing Himself with the comings and goings of those inhabiting the planet of His Creation.
Immediately Sammael lowered his head. Dropping to one knee, bowing to his Father, one arm resting upon his leg.
“You called for me Father.”
“I did. Where have you been my Son?”
“I apologise Father, I was on Earth, collecting my thoughts.”
“He was atop Mount Everest, Father. Mourning his daughter again,” Gabriel’s smug tones sent a shiver of annoyance along Sammael’s spine. He knew, that Gabriel was trying to get a rise out of him, Gabriel did not like that God had allowed Sammael a family of his own choosing not of the Heavenly Host.
“A father is right to mourn the loss of their child, even I would not deny him that. Though it is time to cast aside thoughts of her now Sammael, and time to learn from that mistake.”
Sammael did not miss his Father’s disapproval, there was sympathy there but also relief that He had his son back, all to himself, without that woman and her daughter to distract him. No. God had never approved.
“Yes, Father. You have a task for me?”
“I do my Son. The situation in America has become… unmanageable. Your siblings have tried to influence them but to no avail. Wipe them out Sammael, end their suffering and that of their descendants, new colonies will thrive in their absence.”
At this he did look up, unable to keep his head bowed. “All of them Father? Would I not better serve you by eliminating those that have caused the strife? Bring peace back to them once more?”
“You dare to question my judgement?!” His Father roared, voice shaking the entirety of the Heavens. “I thought we had discussed learning from your mistakes Sammael, you went against my word once and look what happened. Do not believe that you can tell me what is best, they are my Creations and only I decide. Am I understood?”
Sammael lowered his head once more, cringing under His gaze, “Yes Father, I understand, and I will obey,” he replied.
“My Son, the excellent soldier. Take up Scythe in my name, and may you be Blessed.”
“Thank you, Father,” Sammael stood slowly, bowing low before he turned and left, his face ashen, wings hanging low.
He was resigned to his task, he had never truly defied his Father, and certainly never disobeyed a direct order. Sammael shook his head and dismissed his reluctance, his Father had asked this of him before, today was no different. He was the Angel of Death, Heaven’s Sword, and he would do well to remember it.
At the armour he retrieved his sword. The weapon looked heavy, yet he wielded it as though it were a feather. Gold and silver armour gleamed in the Heavenly light, he was not the image of Death that men envisioned. Where the skeletal figure had come from he did not know. It was because of such depictions that his sword had been named Scythe, as an irony of sorts.
Leaving the armoury, he ignored the snickering from Uriel out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel obviously recounting the tale of Father’s reprimand, not that it would have gone unheard. Let them snigger. Uriel was a petulant child, riding on her older brother’s reputation, and Gabriel was jealous.
Sammael made his way towards the Garden; killing an entire nation took a little more than just a sword swing. He had to set events into motion that would eradicate the whole of the American people in quick succession, much like in Pompeii, though his Father had allowed a select few to survive. Total annihilation, on this scale, would take him a moment or two.
The Garden should have been a place for the Angels to come and enjoy life, to view Earth from the pond and love them as God had originally intended, though few of his brethren ever bothered with such trivialities unless required to.
No, they were not like him. Only Sammael spanned across all of Earth, including the domains of the other Deities his Father had allowed to stay. The burden of their end fell on his shoulders, and it was no easy task.
Settling on a bench at the edge of the pond he waved a hand above its mirror-like surface, the water rippling and shifting from his reflection to Columbia, South Carolina, on fire. He could hear the cries of women and children, and his heart sank. The wail of a mother, cradling her dead son in her arms, tore through him and despair threatened to overwhelm him as his own grief began to swell, a tidal wave ready to break at any moment, waiting to drown him.
Sammael gasped, clutching the edge of the bench, swallowing hard as he fought to keep back the nausea and bile building in his throat, the image of Alina’s lifeless body the only thing he could see.
His sorrow gave way to rage, and it threatened to overwhelm him in ways his grief never did. His Father expected him to wipe out these people, assumed that he was as heartless as He was, that the deaths of innocents did not affect him, but his Father was wrong. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision, his entire body glowing brightly as he looked at the imposing walls of the City.
Heartless, obedient puppets. Each one of them, doing ‘God’s’ work. No more, he would not be responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent children on his Father’s whim. They deserved a chance, to find their own way, he would not end it purely because his Father had grown tired of their arguments. If they were flawed it was because he had made them that way, what did that say about him?
He stood slowly, body trembling as he swallowed his anger. Fingers fumbled with the straps of his armour, shedding it from his form, casting it aside. Removing his helmet, he threw it into the pond, the image of Columbia, wavering and vanishing as the connection broke. Hands balled into fists, his breathing laboured, tears of frustration running down his cheeks.
Too long he had been the obedient son, doing his Father’s bidding without thinking of the consequences.
Whenever he had done anything remotely out of character, or out of the norm, they had shunned him, but he was always obedient. Not this time.
Unsheathing his sword Sammael grasped his left wing, pulling it taught, holding the sword in his left hand, the blade against the place it connected to his shoulder.
“I am your puppet no longer Father, find another fool to do your bidding, they deserve better than you, and so do I,” he spat.
Without hesitation, Sammael cut into his wing, screaming in agony as the blade sliced through bone and sinew with ease. He cast the limb aside, transferred his sword to his right hand and did the same to his remaining wing, hands covered in his blood.
Collapsing to the ground he laughed, body shaking, back burning where his wings used to be, the steady trickle of blood soaking his shirt. Sweat ran down his forehead, into his eyes, blurring his vision as he took one last look at the City, the sight plucked away as the ground vanished beneath him.
Closing his eyes, he gripped his sword as he began to fall, wind rushing past him. His body was numb now, most of him was, he had cut himself free of his Father and defied him in the most heinous way. He had fallen, just as Lucifer had, though this had been his choice. When his Father realised what had happened he would be livid, there was some satisfaction in that, he had fallen from grace but he did not care, it was for the right reasons.
‘I wonder which obedient tool will get the title now I’ve cast it aside... Sammael, former Angel of Death… I like that,’ he thought, smiling as the Earth rushed to embrace him.