The Aftermath

The end of Lucifer's fight with Azazel and the return of Joel's team from their mission.

   Lucifer faced Azazel with fierce determination.  In many ways Azazel could be considered to be worse than him because he’d become a fully changed Greater Demon.  Lucifer was nothing more than the very first of the fallen angels, flung down from Heaven first because he developed more humane desires and wanted more than to be free.  He still had his ability to summon his Heavenly weapons.  He’d somehow regained that ability when he’d torn Satan from himself and sent him to Hell.  He’d always thought that having that ability back was the Lord’s way of telling him that he was starting to forgive him.  Now that he was facing Azazel, he wondered if the Lord had known that this moment would come and wanted to forgive him like he did for every other being who asked him forgiveness.  He wondered if the Lord wanted to have Azazel defeated before he destroyed the world, making it Hell on earth.  Or...Lucifer wondered.  He wanted me to be taken down but, have it be a fair fight.

 

  Azazel charged at Lucifer.  Lucifer dodged him but, Azazel had faked him out.  The demon stood only inches away smiling and laughing low in his throat.  The demon’s spear was already bloodied.  Lucifer looked down at his side.  He wore the Nephilim gear and the clothing was supposed to be indestructible to an extent.   The fact that Azazel tore right through it in a single slice made him wish he still knew where his old armor was from when he’d fallen.  If he still had that, he’d be able to fight Azazel and be nearly unscathed for a very long time in this fight.  

 

   Lucifer circled Azazel slowly, trying to figure out a way to get at a chink in the demon’s dark armor.  Azazel followed Lucifer’s lead.  Both knew that Lucifer couldn’t hold Azazel off for long without his armor.  They knew he’d need his evil self, Satan to be with him to even dare to try and fight without armor.  That side of him was chained deep within the abysses of Hell and along with that came a loss of power and courage in Lucifer.  

   “You’ve gone so soft since you lost your evil side, Lucifer.  You tore half of yourself away and imprisoned it in Hell.  How do you plan to defeat me without summoning it back from there?” Azazel taunted him.  

   “I have lived thousands of years without it.  I don’t need it now.” Lucifer said, daring to take a swing at Azazel’s chest with his sword.  The dark armor sizzled from contact with the holy metal.  A skinny gash burrowed in the dark metal.  Azazel’s face didn’t change to show if Lucifer’s sword had melted the metal down to his skin.  He simply swung at Lucifer’s neck and the angel ducked out of the way just in time to barely get grazed across the neck by the tip of Azazel’s spear.   Even with the tiny scrape of the wicked point, Lucifer’s skin felt like it had a tiny fire burning across it.  

   “Very stupid of you to think that in all your time among the Lord’s people you haven’t become like them.  They are stupid, ignorant, mortals.  The Lord abandoned us for them.  He loved them more than even you as His first creation.  That was part of your little speech when you convinced us angels to fall from His Grace, wasn’t it dear Morningstar?”  Azazel slammed the butt of his spear against Lucifer’s shoulder, driving him to his knees.  

   A jolt of pain shot up his legs as he hit the ground hard.  Lucifer only allowed a single wince.  He looked up into Azazel’s orange snake eyes and kept up his fearless face.  Falling had hurt worse than this.  His wings had been broken beyond mending; most of the bones in his body had been broken.  

   He remembered how soon after the angels had landed on earth, they’d looked at him with complete hatred and had wanted to kill him.  But, they’d known that he’d received the worst of the pain and let him deal with it.  He was all broken pieces and they were still relatively whole.  Their wings were broken, their powers weakened, no more connection to God than the mortals.  Coming to earth completely killed any control over Satan that Lucifer had had in Heaven and had caused him to be in such agony that it felt like he was splitting in half ever so slowly.  His head was filled with evil whispering thoughts of killing it burning the world to the ground.  That was when he’d had to reach inside himself and take all that was dark out of his heart.  The agony of the act was like ripping himself in half the way you would rip of a Band-Aid.  Though it was quick it still made him scream in agony, making the other angels fall to the ground with their hand over their sensitive ears.  They too were screaming from how badly Lucifer had been hurting their ears.  His pain had yet again been shared.  But casting Satan down to Hell had been the best moment of his life.  He no longer had to fight of the evil thoughts his evil side shared with him.

 

   Azazel looked into Lucifer’s eyes and began to laugh.  

   “You are missing Satan aren’t you?”  He asked.  

   Lucifer kicked out at Azazel’s legs and rolled away in case the demon took the fall.  Azazel merely stumbled a little.  Lucifer willed his sword away and faced the demon barehanded.  Remembering how he had doomed his brothers to this world and had helped some of them become like Azazel had brought him more courage and determination.  Azazel’s own weapon evaporated in a puff of black smoke.  His armor coalesced and dissolved a little, becoming simple clothing like the Nephilim gear.  He faced Lucifer barehanded as well.  

   Lucifer smiled.  “Now this is a fair fight.” he mumbled.  

   Azazel grinned.  “Just wait until I get started.”

   With that Azazel spun and kicked out at Lucifer.  The angel dodged the kick and struck out with one of his own, aiming at Azazel’s chest to try and wind him.  Azazel grabbed Lucifer by the leg and shoved him down.  Lucifer landed on his arm and suddenly pain shot up to his shoulder and his eyes squeezed shut as he avoided giving too much of a show of pain.  

 

   Skye faced the warlock that had come out of the horde after the Nephilim girl the others called Genesis.  He wasn’t a Greater Warlock like some of the ones she’d met and escaped since that was the best some Nephilim like her could do against a Greater Warlock.  Since he wasn’t a Greater one she had a chance of defeating him.  Because of this she fought fiercely.  

   She swung out at his wing as it lagged behind him.  He pulled it aside just in time for her to cut into the bone framing the leather wings.  Blue blood, sapphire colored like his eyes trickled down from the slice in his wing.  The warlock winced and Skye smiled triumphantly.  A small part of her pitied him because she knew the pain that came with a slice from a Heavenly weapon.  But, he was working to kill her and death at the hand of a warlock was more painful than a small cut from a Heavenly weapon.  So, as he tried to regain his composure, she struck out at him again, not aiming at any specific place, only hoping to wound him again or kill him.  He saw her coming this time.  His sapphire cat eyes shimmering.  A grin lit up his face.  

   There was a flash of green and suddenly, Skye felt as though she was freezing from the inside out.    Her knees buckled and she tumbled to the ground.  Her lungs felt like they could no longer press out breath.  She tried to breathe but, it felt like her lungs were made of ice and could no longer even dare to contain oxygen.  Her heart pounded in her ears.  What did he do?  Was he turning her into ice?  Was he slowly easing her into death?  

   Skye looked at the warlock with his somehow delicate yet dangerous features.  His long hair fell into his eyes as he looked at her.  He grinned again and brushed one black-nailed finger across her cheek.  

   “The daughter of the Devil, huh?” he murmured.

   Skye tried to move away from the warlock.  

   “You definitely look like it but, you don’t really fight like it.  You’re savage in your swings but, you don’t have real aim or anticipation as to where your opponent will be.  You don’t think about how much skill your opponent might just have.” He continued as if she wasn’t trying to get away.  

   His finger was on her lips now, making disgust flower in her gut.  He traced her lips, the line of her jaw, up to her temple.  Something tingled there and his eyes flashed like a lightning strike seen underwater.  His eyes locked on hers and her mind felt numb.  She fought against him, knowing he was likely digging through her mind.  

   “Don’t fight me.” he warned, his voice soft. “I can make it hurt.”

   She struggled, the icy feeling starting to ebb.  He didn’t want to kill her, that was clear.  He didn’t want to hurt her either.  But, now was her chance to escape if she could manage a quick one.  

   She tried to move her arms back so she could push up off the ground.  

   His knee came up and leveled on her stomach.  He pressed gently into her ribs, easing her back down on the grass.  

   “I feel you fighting me.  You have a very strong mind when it comes to magic, don’t you?” He smirked.  

   She noticed how close his wrist was to her face.  She could see the veins lining his arms, the blue ones standing out on the inside of his wrist.  She continued to concentrate on keeping him out of her mind, the alarms in her head blaring.  He was fighting back, trying to get in and do whatever he wanted to her mind.  Only one warlock had ever gotten into her mind before.  He’d tormented her with horrific images of the ugly things he’d seen in his seven hundred years of life.  He’d gone through her memories and torn some of the happiest from her and taken them as his own.  When she’d gotten tired of him messing with her head, she’d pushed back, forced him out of her head.  She’d fought back so hard that she’d made him fall to the ground with his hands covering his head, screaming.  

   She looked into this warlock’s eyes now, noticing how pretty they really were since he was so close to her face.  She stared into them and focused on the black slits that made them look like cat’s eyes.  She felt the warm tingling pressing into her mind.  Her guard fell to pieces and she felt him surge into her mind.  He gasped at the sudden entrance.  He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a breath.

   She grinned evilly.  The higher they are, the harder they fall.  

  She felt the feathery lightness of his power as it shuffled through her memories and thoughts it was a nearly comforting touch against her mind and part of her liked the feel of it.  She pushed past that feeling and remembered that this warlock might just try and destroy her memories like the one before him.  

   Skye concentrated on the touch of his power in her mind and let him go on a little longer, letting him enjoy himself as he seemed to be.  

   Then, she snapped down on it, letting all her power fall down on it like a dead weight.  She watched as he fell to the side, his knee lifting from her stomach and allowing her to breathe more properly again.  

   The warlock dug his fingers into his scalp like he wanted desperately to claw out whatever was causing him pain.  His face was contorted in pain, screams tearing through the air.  They were almost loud enough to soar above the other shrieks and screams of battle.  

   The second he got off of her, she scrambled to her feet, summoning her sword to deliver the final blow.  

   He looked at her, his sapphire eyes portraying all the pain he felt in that moment.  Skye could almost feel it hammering her own skull.  She flinched away, the pain ebbing as she did.  

   “You wouldn’t dare to kill me, daughter of the Devil.” he said.  

  “Stop calling me that.” she snarled.

  “But, it’s what you are.  You have Lucifer’s blood in your veins.”

  “I don’t care.  Stop calling me that.” Skye snapped.  

   The warlock smirked.  “You’d do well to accept who you are.”

   “Don’t talk to me about accepting who I am, warlock.” Skye snapped.  

   “Already you act like the Nephilim.  You put us Hybrids down because we have demon blood.” he said.  “We are human too.  We can die.  You can die.  We have a parent that is human too.  The Nephilim still kill us because we are part Hell.”

   “We kill you because there are a decent amount of you that go rogue and kill the humans because you can’t handle what you are and what you are becoming.”  She replied. “We defend the humans because demon blood is not meant to be a gentle thing to anyone.  Demons belong in Hell and we send them there for the protection of all things created by God.  In case you didn’t know that with all your hundreds of years on earth.”

   The warlock’s kind looks disappeared in a flash. His blue eyes lit up again and suddenly Skye was frozen.  Her sword blazed in her hand but she couldn’t move her arm and her neck felt like it was made of rock hard ice.  She watched him as he slowly got to his feet, like the slightest movements were too painful for him to make.  His eyes were like electric fire, shimmering like dancing lights lit them from behind.  She felt him in her mind again.  This time it hurt more, like a knife scraping the edges of her skull, digging out the information in some special way or working to get through her defenses and control her.  She focused on protecting her mind so that she could hopefully wait for someone to subdue the warlock for her to kill him.  

   “Not so arrogant when we can control you so easily now, are you?” he snarled.   “You can protect your mind only so much before I break down those defenses.  Trust me you don’t want me to break them down.  If I were you I’d let go or I can keep scraping along and make it a whole lot worse than it is right now.”

  If she could move anything, she would’ve had a furious face on at that moment.  Instead, she just stared at him, watching the blue flames dancing in his eyes.  It was almost hypnotic to watch and she forced herself to look away.

  He chuckled softly and continued to scrape at her mind.  “I am getting to you.” he said.    “Take them down.”

    Never, she thought.  

   He smiled and nodded once.  “Take them down.” he said in a sweet soft voice.

   She felt him pressing into her mind and winced as he slowly scraped harder.

  No, she thought weakly.

   He pressed again and she almost screamed as the pressure increased.

   Skye let down her defenses and felt his power rush into her head.

   She heard him exhale softly, like the freedom his power received was relaxing.  That’s when she saw her own memories that she had worked hard to keep hidden deep down in her soul rise up before her mind’s eye.  

    The part that killed her with this whole plan of hers was that she couldn’t throw down her power on him yet; it was too early in the process.  She had no choice but to let the images flow through her mind and relive them.

   Noah faced the oncoming tide of demons with his sword ready at his side and Dakota standing opposite his sword with her own blades ready.  When he saw the huge rhino-like demon charging for her, he stepped forward, pulled back his sword arm and took a wild swing at its horn to get the worst out of the way.  The demon’s horn slid off and dissipated in a puff of black smoke.  Noah’s wings snapped out as soon as the horn was gone and he flapped them once, powerfully, to escape the pain of being run over by the huge beast.  He rose up into the air, his white wings flapping to keep him aloft, he was tempted to let himself drop down onto the beast’s back and kill it then but, he had a feeling that the beast would have the power to become smoke since it was such a big demon.  He let it pass under him and, for a moment, allowed himself to smile and enjoy the view he had of Dakota as she swirled through the cloud of demons like a tornado; her silvery blades like turbines as she cut down demons.  He heard the shriek of demons above that were being fought by the Nephilim and fallen who were better at aerial combat than most.  He saw some of his friends up there, many who had come from other countries and were well practiced in the art since they had pretty much fought their way over the sea to make it to safety.  

   He turned and looked down at the rhino demon as it glared up at him, its fiery ears pinned back, showing its anger the way a horse would.  It pawed the ground and snorted. A challenge to the death, Noah thought, his smile broadening.  

   The Nephilim boy dove for the rhino, nearly spiraling before he stopped himself.

   The demon ducked like a human dodging a bee.

   Noah soared over it, spreading his wings so he could take to the sky again.

   He rose into the air and the demons seemed to be calling him a coward.

   Noah smiled and slowed his wing beats, allowing himself to float slowly to the ground.

   He faced the demon, his sword ready, his heart hammering.

   The rhino demon came charging at him, fire trailing in its wake.

   Noah leapt and spun, driving his sword into the demon’s skull.  

   The demon screamed in pain and burst into flames that quickly evaporated into smoke.  

   Noah let himself drop to the ground and caught sight of Lucifer fighting Azazel.  His heart contracted at the sight of Lucifer kneeling on the ground with Azazel’s spear to his neck.  

 

   Lucifer had experienced levels of pain that no human, Nephilim, or even angel had experienced before.  After all, he’d experienced the wrath of God before having to fall to Earth for nine days and then having every bone in his body broken for several days until he healed.  Having a spear point digging into his neck was no big deal and he took it as such.  

   As Azazel dug the point of his spear into Lucifer’s throat, the two fallen met each other’s eyes; Azazel’s orange snake eyes and Lucifer’s jade ones.  Lucifer had no trouble keeping his face relatively neutral and he knew that Azazel wanted to see his brother suffer again; hear him scream in pain and anguish.  Demons lived off of the pain and suffering of humans and Nephilim.  Lucifer’s pain would only give Azazel more power.  His calmness only angered Azazel; it was clear by the faint red flickering behind the orange in the demon’s irises.  He knew his brother too well.  He knew Azazel best of all angels, having been his second when he’d led the army of angels that no longer served Heaven into battle for freedom.  Azazel, believe it or not, still had some sort of soft spot for his once leader despite all his torment in the pits of Hell.

 

   Lucifer pushed himself up onto his feet, which only made Azazel press the tip of his spear harder against Lucifer’s throat, drawing blood.  Lucifer summoned power from the reserves long left untouched deep down inside him.  He hated to have to fight Azazel again, he too had a softness toward the fallen angel and demon, but this was truly the greater good he was fighting for.  

 

   The red in Azazel’s irises flared brighter, like he was watching the flames of Hell burning before him.  

   “You wouldn’t summon your power to fight your, presently, merciful brother now, would you Lucifer?” Azazel growled almost patiently.

   “I’m afraid I have to, dear brother.” Lucifer sighed, his ancient power tingling as it began to flicker around his fingers, the color of his eyes.  

   The power flowed like liquid suspended in the air, glittering like fire and lacing around his forearms like a thin scarf.  

   Azazel backed away, releasing the pressure that had been building in the tender wound in Lucifer’s neck.  Even Azazel didn’t mess around like a brave man when Lucifer brought his power out to play.  

   Lucifer let the calming warmth of his power relax him just slightly as the currents of power curled softly around his strong arms.  

   Azazel backed away slowly as Lucifer took a step forward. “Why do you insist on killing me?  I could have killed you just now and I gave you mercy because you are still my brother even though I became a demon.”

   Lucifer smiled at Azazel’s attempt to make him give mercy. “Do you honestly think that I would agree to whatever price you want me to pay for you mercy?”

   The red flames dance dangerously behind Azazel’s orange eyes, the corners of his mouth tightening in frustration.  “I can’t believe you really want to defend the half-breeds.  I can’t believe you want to protect the humans when we fought for the Lord to choose us over them.  Now, you’re choosing them over your own brother!”

   “I’m choosing the best choice, Azazel.  You’re the one in the wrong.  We lose the humans, we lose the Nephilim. That is not God’s world.  He gave me this last chance to come back to him, I believe.  To be The Morningstar again.  I believe that he planned this day from the time I cast Satan into Hell.  The Lord is merciful and ever forgiving.  I am doing this to be forgiven for my sins and crimes.  I am doing this for my own daughter so she may one day believe that I really am not the Devil and will trust me again.”  Lucifer explained.  “I know that you’re stubborn especially now that you have been a demon chained in Hell for centuries.  I know what imprisonment can do to one’s soul.  Perhaps, a few more years to think about this can help you learn that my reasons  are the true good and will help you to decide whether you would like to try to find the chance to be forgiven.  I know that somewhere deep down you have a burning desire to feel wind against your face and beneath the beautiful wings you once had and know that you are once again in the better graces of the Lord.”

   Azazel’s brows furrowed deeply.  

   Lucifer held up his hand to stop the demon from speaking.  “No more, dear brother.  Hell awaits your return.”

   Azazel’s dark armor spread down his bare arms like smoke.  A shield with Azazel’s symbol engraved into it formed on his right forearm and he held it up in front of him like a vampire baring its cape to shield its face from the sun.  

   Lucifer could see that Azazel’s eyes were the full blazing blood red color they got when he finally lost his patience and summoned his power to do his bidding.  For this Lucifer summoned his own armor of silver.  He felt his power coalescing around him, clinging to his skin like gentle mist droplets.  His armor had never been heavy - no angel’s armor was - but the moderate weight of it on his slight frame was like returning home after a long, agonizing trip.  He closed his eyes and let the armor finish its appearance.  

 

   He felt the blast just as the armor had finished appearing and solidifying.  He knew Azazel would wait to begin when he knew it would be a fair time.  He wasn’t cruel like that in fights, attacking when his opponent was unprepared.  

  The red flames of power licked hungrily at his armor across his chest.  He opened his eyes and looked at Azazel with his shield slightly lowered; just enough to see his face.

   Lucifer’s hands sparked with power, itching to hit the demon back. He let his power roar through him, thrumming in his veins with long-awaited release.  He let the power fly from his fingertips like green lightning bolts.   Azazel attempted to raise his shield to protect him from the bolts of power but, he wasn’t quick enough.  The bolts of power hit him in the chest and blew him backwards.  Azazel sailed thirty feet backwards, slamming into some of his demons and an unfortunate few Nephilim who got caught in the light cocoon of Lucifer’s power and were shocked dead in a few mere seconds.  Lucifer felt immediate anger and frustration at the loss of the Nephilim.  At least they went down fighting, he thought.

   Azazel landed on the ground slightly more than fifty feet away, among the ashes of his victimized demon soldiers.  But, as only Azazel and Lucifer can. He got up and dusted himself off, immediately summoning his own power to strike.  Lucifer watched calmly, imaging all the miracles he’d performed long ago when he was familiar with his power down to the smallest miracles possible.  He remembered all the things he’d surprised himself with when he’d waged wars in Heaven’s name and his own.  There was one really good trick that had scared the non-literal Hell out of him and had saved his life.  He needed that trick now but, how to do it?  

   The bolts of bright red lightning power came towards him, straight at his chest.  He remembered performing the trick and prayed that was enough to help him live through this attack decently.  God only knows what Azazel has packed in those bolts.  

   Lucifer closed his eyes and prayed once more that this would work.  

 

  

    Noah watched from ten feet away, his ears ringing from being blown aside by the flying Azazel that had just plowed him aside like snow.  He’d slammed into another Nephilim’s wing and had broken it painfully.  He saw something he could not believe.  He had to be hallucinating.  He had to have hit his head so hard he was seeing things.  But, his vision was clear and it was happening.  

   Lucifer’s body from the waist up split open with an aura of jade green smoke.  It was like he was some sort of spirit opening up to let a punch go through them without getting itself hurt.  The red magic that Azazel had shot at him was absorbed by some form of net that backed Lucifer like a brace.  When the power had finally stopped flowing from Azazel, Lucifer’s body sealed itself back together and Noah saw Lucifer take a deep breath.  Azazel stood, staring; his eyes wide as if he’d just witnessed the strangest thing ever.  Noah severely doubted that that was the strangest thing Azazel had ever seen.  

 

   The demon did not remain in shock for long though.  His eyebrows furrowed angrily and he blasted Lucifer again.  Lucifer dodged the blast, the power glancing off his armor as he dodged.  The blast came for Noah now but, his head was spinning and he couldn’t move himself.  He let his head hit the ground again, hoping the blast would fly over him and leave him be.  But, deep down he knew it was coming for him and he was going to die then and there, lying helplessly on the ground.  His vision blurred as the lightning bolt came at him and he closed his eyes to accept his fate.  

 

   Lazerous was among the many who’d been thrown aside when Lucifer had blasted Azazel backward.  He’d forgotten how powerful and dangerous those two got when they fought.  He shook of the dizziness and rubbed his ears to stop the ringing.  He stood and saw the red bolt of power flying toward Noah who was lying on the ground looking dead.  Lazerous saw the boy’s eyes fluttering closed.  He ran for the boy, spreading his wings to help him nearly fly there.  He pushed the boy aside just barely enough to avoid the deadly power, though Lazerous was grazed by it and it burned through the back of his shirt.   He winced a little and ducked down beside Noah.  He pulled his wings in and muffled a loud wince as the fiery pain shot through to his shoulder from his left wing.  

   Noah’s eyes opened slowly and he groaned almost tiredly.  The sound was nearly inaudible among the screams and shrieks of the Nephilim and demons at war around them.

   Lazerous looked around him at the ash and smoke from all the dead demons.  He could still see many of those from Aerie’s side still standing, though many were injured.  Whether they were injured badly or not, Lazerous would have to wait and see what the healers had to say.   Through the haze of the smoke and ash, he could see that the fight had gone through to the building itself.  There was a gaping hole in the brick wall on the lower floor and one a few levels up and a few feet to the right of the lower one.  He no longer had the sight that angels like Sumaria and Kassiel did, but he somehow knew that something was still alive and moving in the upper hole.  He watched for a moment to see what happened to poke its head into view.  Would it be a monster or would it be an angel?  He prayed for an angel to survive it.

   He narrowed his eyes as he watched, hoping for a clearer view.  Then, he saw something rise up from the darkness.  White wings folded into the angel’s back.  Lazerous could smell the magical scent of an angel from where he lay and it was like waking up to the smell of coffee in the early morning.  The angel stared down at something that lay at his feet before turning to the huge opening he’d blown into the side of Aerie.  

   Lazerous’s heart swelled.  Sumaria had come to save Aerie.  Lazerous knew the angel’s would come.  They were good and would do anything for Aerie, but just seeing them there to help made him completely happy.  But, it wasn’t just the fact that the angel was there; he knew that if Sumaria was here then, Kassiel would be too.  Also, Sumaria has experience as a healer from before he had been promoted to be a Guardian angel so; Aerie was one up on healers.  

   But, Lazerous only got to bathe in the relief for only a moment.  He suddenly remembered the prisoner coming up beside him before the battle began and now, that prisoner wasn’t there.  He was one of the worst and he’d lost him in the melee.  Lazerous silently cursed himself for losing him.  He could’ve gone to Azazel’s side at any point for whatever sick reason made sense in his crazy mind.  

   Lazerous looked around him wildly, hoping to catch a sight of the blood red wings or the dark hair.  He had to catch some sign of him, tackle him and keep him in his sights.   

   He was tempted to call out to his brother, but he thought better of it.  He knew that if Damasen had gone to Azazel’s side, he was a lost cause and never mind the fact that Damasen had no reason to answer when Lazerous or any other angel called to him.  

   

   Lazerous ran through the ashes, his eyes squinted as he worked to make sure that he could see through the debris.  He ran through groups of Nephilim limping their way back to Aerie, anxious for healing and rest.  In but a few moments of running, he found Damasen kneeling over a wounded Nephilim girl.  The girl’s face was smudged all over with blood and ash, but Lazerous would know the face anywhere.  The similarities were a lot clearer on her face than they were on most any other Nephs face.  The sharp, nearly stubborn angle of the jaw, the almond-shaped eyes, the narrow nose.  She looked very much like her father.  

   “Damasen?” Lazerous said, his voice low.

   Damasen looked up from the girl, his eyes slightly wider than normal.  He wet his lips.  

   “What happened to her?” Lazerous asked.

   “Azazel’s warlock was tormenting her mind.  I got here just as he was about to kill her.  She will most likely be out for a while.  The strain on her mind was horrible.”

  Lazerous fought the smile that began working its way onto his lips.  Damasen actually seemed to care about the Nephilim girl even though there is clear evidence that she is the most powerful one of them all.

 

 

 

   As Joel led the rest of the team home, he tried not to think about how Mandrake had been taken over by that demon and how they’d had to kill him.  Mandrake was like Marrah’s brother.  They’d found each other on their way to Aerie and taken care of each other until they’d found the haven for Nephs.  But, she’d had to watch as Joel drove his sword through the poor guy’s heart and see the demon burn out of him.  

   I should’ve aimed lower, the side would’ve been better, Joel thought ruefully.  She’s probably gonna hate me for a while when she realizes that I had a small chance to save him.  

 Joel glanced back at her.  She flew on his right, a few feet back, her wings stretched out wide.  She had tears sprayed across her face from the wind and they glistened slightly in the dying sunlight.  Her boy short white hair flicked around in the wind.  She didn’t seem to see him looking back at her, her silver eyes, rimmed with red were focused on the setting sun straight ahead.  

   Joel followed her lead and faced forward again. He hoped that if she figured out that he could’ve saved Mandrake, she would understand that he was trying to do the thing he found best to save the team.  

  

   The whole flight had been silent.  Joel knew that everyone was either upset about the loss of Mandrake or too sore and tired to speak.  Seeing the carnage all around Aerie upon their return . . . didn’t help the mood of the team.  Joel’s brows furrowed deeply as he looked down at what had been a beautiful safe haven for him since he had been not much more than a boy.  He’d basically grown up at Aerie and his home had already been scarred badly by the war with Damasen’s soldiers.  Now, it was scarred even worse by what had come while he was gone.  

  Was this carnage Azazel's doing? , Joel wondered.

  He motioned for the rest of the team to fly down and he circled Aerie, surveying the damage. The building itself was only slightly damaged compared to the last fight that had come to his home.  But, it was enough damage that he knew it might take them a month or two to repair.   

   Joel flew lower and circled down until he was able to land on the roof lightly.  He looked over the edge of the building, his lavender eyes shining as he saw the fallen Nephilim lying on the ground.  His eyes fell on one body in particular.  It was lying on the ground a few feet away, covered in drying blood.  The red and white streaked hair was a tangled mess across her face.  Her wings of gold were broken off and torn to shreds, the golden feathers littering the ground around her like royal dust bunnies. Blood was everywhere in the grass around her, forever tainting the land with the blood of angels and humans.

   Joel dove down to land beside her.  He looked at the remnants of the girl’s golden wings and he could see that the wings had been shredded down to bone and blood.  He pushed them aside gently and looked at the girl.  Getting your wings torn off was always as painful as Hell.  The girl was probably dead or dying at this point.  He examined the bloody holes in her shoulders that marked the places where her wings had once been.  He could see that they went deep into the flesh and muscle of her shoulders. Joel could almost see the bone beneath the flesh and he had to look away to stop himself from being sick at the sight.  When he turned back to the girl, he ignored the wounds from her wings and checked her pulse.  There was none.  Not even a faint one.  He looked at the girl, lying on her side as if she were peacefully sleeping despite the blood and gashes that marred her from head to toe.  He could still smell the scent of warrior angel blood on her.  She had to have faced a dangerous demon to die so horribly.    

 

   Joel stood and began to search for Lazerous.  There was no question the leader had lived through the war.  He had many things going for him like being the ex-leader of the armies of Heaven and having experienced countless battles.  He’d been the one to subdue Damasen who’d once been his second.   On his way he ran into one of his friends from when he’d first come here, one of the rare ones who knew what it was like to lose everything in a matter of minutes.  He was one of even fewer to know that once you did lose everything it’s still possible to pick yourself up and take the remnants of your life with you and find another way to live.  

   The relief in Joel’s chest almost made him dizzy until the guilt came through.  He’d almost forgotten about his friend.  He walked over and hugged him.  Avery hugged him back tightly.     

    “Where were you this whole time?  I went looking for you when we were getting geared up for battle and I couldn’t find you!” Avery said.

   “I was out on a hunt for a demon.  It was a bad one.  It freaked out and blew stuff up.  If we’d done a better job I probably would’ve been back a lot earlier.” Joel grimaced.  

   “Oh.” Avery winced.  “Wow.”

   “Yeah.  Did we lose anyone we know?” Joel replied.  

   “Not that I’ve seen. I mean it just finished off not long ago so, Laz and the healers are probably working on the head counts now.” Avery said, squinting off into the distance.  “I hope we didn’t lose too many.  We don’t have the Nephs to spare.  How many did we lose in the last war?”

  Avery crossed his arms over his bloody chest.  “Like thirty, forty?  We had like one hundred and fifty before this one and now?” He shook his head, his white and black hair flying across his face. “We’re supposed to be a little closer to God than the fallen and the mortals but we constantly get attacked by demonic opponents that kill a good percentage of us.”

  Joel shook his head as well.  “You know that God doesn’t play favorites.  He just gives us life and we decide how to live it. The closest to help from Heaven that we get are the angels that still serve him and that I can see we got.” He looked at the angels that were helping the wounded nearby.  The essence that surrounded them was extremely strong compared to the scent of the fallen the Nephilim were constantly surrounded by.  The scent burned his nose and choked him.  He hated the scent of angels, though it was better than the stench of demons.  Angels smelled like fire and burning feathers and the faintest hint of something that he thought of as Paradise.  He knew he couldn’t technically be sure of that but he had a feeling that’s where that unfamiliar scent came from.  Angels had come to their aid. They had to be thankful for that.   

Reviews

[Inject Positivity]

Tessa, even though your chapters a long, and I'm also taking time to read them but I'm enjoying them thoroughly... There has not been an occasion where I felt disinterested... I have been enjoying the concept and the transformation the story has been taking with each new chapter... I like the biblical imagery you have used in some areas of this write... And not to mention your way of describing the little details... I'm liking the bold nature of Skye... Very well told chapter frnd...

Sincerely
Dhiman

[Tessa Melendez]

Thank you. I'm glad you are continuing to enjoy fiction.