“How dare you stand there and judge me!” Michael shouted, jumping back and away from Azazel. “You, the spawn of the beings who split all of Creation in half! The absolute antithesis of everything the angels stand for! And you have the nerve to call me a coward?!” Michael raised an open hand to Azazel, and with only a thought, dozens of bursts of fire and light flew from his palm, crashing into the ground at Azazel’s feet; into the walls of the chasm; down into the legions of the Abyss; anything or anyone that connected with a fireball was reduced to cinders. Except, much to Michael’s annoyance, Azazel. He was parrying with his sword, but every explosion kicked him back half an inch closer to the edge. The moment he lost his footing, Michael would strike.
“Come on, demon! Show me your great power!” Michael said, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re not so strong now that you’re not picking on someone weaker than you, are you? I guess all your ‘power’ is nothing but show! You’re just another bottom-feeding brainless spawn of the pit, just like all the other worthless slime from Hell!”
Azazel was surprised that the Archangel’s fury was pushing him backwards, able to face his initial attack; Michael had not showed this might in the Abbey. Something was strangely different, but Azazel couldn’t yet make out exactly what was wrong. The Demon quickly tried a different approach as he skillfully deflected and dodged the attacks of the holy weapon.
“I dare to because I am absolute antithesis of everything the angels stand for and thus I can easily read your signs! I can see into your soul. I’ve spoken nothing but the truth”, Azazel replied with an unpleasant grin. “I can see your fear responsibility. Countless souls have been lost while you made up your mind – if you have made up your mind. You’re not here for them. You are here for yourself, because you hate me“, Azazel triumphantly said. “In your soul you think you are a coward – ah I can tell you you are right!” Azazel called upon his Voice power to weaken the Archangel’s self-confidence as he maneuvered with Lufernatia, the blows he deflected slowly getting him closer to the edge of the cliff. Azazel laughed with infernal mirth.
“I almost like you, Michael!”, he yelled. “You have the seed of the Fall within your soul!”
Azazel affirmed his goat foot on the edge of the platform of rock; his eyes blazed like carbuncles from the pits of Hell. Suddenly, six huge dragon wings sprouted from Azazel’s left side among the golden feathery wings.
“Is this your best, Michael?”, he asked with a horrible grin. “Show me your dark side.” Six dragon wings sprouted from Azazel’s right side; the Demon had now twelve wings in a shocking mix of angel and dragon natures. Azazel’s dragon claw began to glow with red resplendence, parrying the archangel attacks with Lufernatia. He flapped his wings, causing an infernal wind filled with red sparks. Azazel’s voice weighed on the spirits. “Show me your hatred”, he hissed. “Show me the real Michael.”
Michael’s heart sank as Azazel shrugged off his assault, and only came back stronger, taunting him all the while. Whatever advantage he had before probably just went clear out the window.
But… I’m not beaten yet! “You can summon up all the strength you want!” Michael growled, putting the fact that Ezurewrath was slowly getting heavier into the back of his mind. “Your twisted words have no effect on me! Regardless of whether I’m fighting for myself, for my friends, or for the world, the result is the same–you’ll still be dead!”
Ezurewrath blazed like a dying star, and in a flash of fire and light, Michael surrounded himself in a veil of fire that stuck to his armor like a second skin. Every last inch of the angel was covered in rolling flame, save for his eyes, which blazed a pure, blinding white. Six great wings of light spread from his back; two were his, but the other four were merely projections of the power he was putting out. The strain of all this was almost too much for him to bear, but if he got in a lucky shot, this would all be over before it could really begin.
“Here I am, Azazel! The one chosen to lead the Heavenly Host, and all of its absolute power!” Ezurewrath sliced through the air, and waves of fire and light tore between the distance between Michael and Azazel.
Azazel howled in dark joy. Autumn was clear out of his mind, along with Morris and their frail lives as Azazel flapped his twelve wings, causing a foul infernal wind. Sparks and burning sulfur rained on the platform, which seemed to sway and creak under the power of the fighters. Michael’s last blow was effectively blocked by Azazel, but the impulse sent the Demon off the platform. Momentaneously blinded by the Light, Azazel fell out of sight with an explosion of ashes and sparks, his wings of gold and fire ominously spread.
A deep growl shook the cliff and the walls of live rock in the abyss below. The Armies fell silent. A huge shadow grew on the side of the cliff, tossing a black nightmarish form on the heavy red clouds streaked by magicks in the skies above. The shadow moved. The Armies from the Abyss still did not utter a sound, their silence frightening. A heavy claw took grip of the edge from which Azazel fell; large, scaled in red with black sharp talons. A shriek ran across the chasm and the Abyss came to life again with the howls and battle cries of the Armies as a huge form climbed back onto the platform. It was a huge red dragon; a nightmarish creature with twelve leathery wings and a long arched neck, baring sword-long teeth in a horrible grin. The tail lopped around the rock and crushed it like wet sand, sparks and fire coming out of his very scales; the strong wind caused by his wings of the size of the sails of a war ship was hot, damp as in blood and the tears of the damned. Fire came out of his mouth as Azazel spit flames onto the archangel surrounded by Light.
Azazel rose his long neck and arched it to look down at the archangel before him, a sly and cunning look in his bronze eyes. Lufernatia had turned into a beam of dark resplendence in his right claw; his claws were similar to the hands of men.
“Let us see who will live to see the dawn”, the dragon said with a malevolent snigger.
Michael took an uneasy step backwards as he stared up at the dragon. Was this the extent of Azazel’s true power? How could he stand up to something like that? It wasn’t possible! That beast was huge, and its demonic aura was almost overwhelming. It could probably take on a dozen angels!
Off in the distance, though, a spark of hope caught Michael’s attention. He could feel several powerful forces moving his way, and in front was… Raphael! Azrael and the others were probably not very far behind.
“I guess I was wrong,” he whispered to himself, hanging his head and letting Ezurewrath droop in his hand. “I’m not that strong; not as strong as all of us. I should have depended more on you guys. Raziel, Gabriel, Uriel… and now you’re gone. I can’t avoid taking the blame for your deaths anymore. It was my fault, for not doing what I should have done a long time ago!”
Michael looked back up at Azazel, and narrowed his burning eyes at the dragon. “I guess I should thank you! You’re the one who showed me my true self, Azazel!” he shouted. “The lord of the abyss gave me the courage to face my fears! Pretty ironic, if you ask me.”
Ezurewrath flared up again, and Michael’s white aura burned brightly amidst Azazel’s darkness. “I came here looking for death, but now I know I have to live! Everybody is depending on me, and I could never rest if I failed them now!” Taking off like a fiery comet, Michael launched himself at the dragon. Ezurewrath had extended to nearly three times its normal length, leaving a burning trail as Michael swung it at the dragon.
Azazel laughed so hard at the Archangel’s words he nearly lost his balance. The dragon roared triumphantly. The poison of his Voice had filtered through Michael’s mind to the very core; the bitterness in the Archangel’s words was a warm wine in his veins. “Yes, it’s your fault”, he said with fake, mocking compassion. “Truly and only yours…” Azazel arched his neck dodging Ezurewrath in the last second; the dragon’s teeth flashed like a bundle of curve swords as he suddenly launched forward, snapping at Michael. Ezurewrath pierced through one of the leathery wings in its fall; Azazel howled, losing his grip on Michael’s body, part of the robes torn by the teeth. Blood spurted as the teeth came out from Michael’s body. Azazel shook his head, knocking Michael to the side; Lufernatia flashed, a black light in the dragon’s hand piercing through Michael’s body. Azazel growled a spell and pushed the demonic weapon further, pinning Michael to the ground.
“If you want to know”, the dragon softly said with a sinister voice, “the ashes on which you lay are Raziel’s.”
Raphael came flying over with his Armies sticking tightly behind, and he shook his head violently. Angel blood was in the air. From the vibes it gave out, Raphael could tell the blood belonged to Michael, of all people. “Are you dead yet, Michael?!” Raphael yelled as he flew down swiftly towards the edged aura, when he sensed another person. Probably on top of Michael.
“Azazel…!” Raphael whispered as he summoned Strife into his hands, gripping it on the hilt tightly as he cut down through the air. The blade glowed with a powerful golden light as it neared Azazel, burning his flesh.
“Leave him alone!!!” Raphael shouted as he attempted to cut Azazel’s draconic form. The two side of the Armies went into a fierce war against each another, leaving their leaders to their personal fight. Down in the abyss, screaming and sickening sounds could be heard.
White hot piercing pain washed over Michael’s body, numbing the senses until all that was left was a dark fathomless pit of nothing. The sinister sound of Azazel’s revelation of Raziel’s death was only a faint echo of words amongst the sea of anguish. There was no light, no energy left as blood ran from his wounds soaking his clothing and the ground beneath him. It was ironic now, as he just found the will to live, the will to fight… that his life would be taken in such a quick blow.
With the dumbness of his impending death came a new crystal clear clarity. He could feel Raphael’s presence as if he could reach out and touch him. The overbearing feel of Azazel’s power was weighing over him like a wet blanket. The humans that had come so foolishly conducting a spell…
Michael could not bring himself to open his eyes as the sudden twinge of hope leaped at him. Azazel had not sense the power of the spell? He was so distracted by Michael, he had not realized those humans were recreating a seal to send him back to the abyss! But now, Michael was down… pinned to the ground like a speared fish. Raphael was blind and would not distract him for long. The human’s spell was only halfway completed, the energies collecting and solidifying out of sight in to a new portal. They only need time!
Michael’s arms slowly raised as he wrapped his blood soaked fingers around the obsidian light of Lufernatia. He pulled with every ounce of strength and determination he could wretch from his body, sliding the dark beam inch by inch until he was completely free. Movement took such an intense concentration, Michael could only bring himself to his knees before opening his eyes to gaze on hell’s beast.
“Is that… all you have… Azazel…” his taunt came out in short ragged breaths, but his voice remained strong. “If I must die… you will die with me!”
Azazel sneered at Michael’s threatening words. He pulled his sword and swished his tail, annoyed at the few angels hovering and zooming over his head; the dragon spit fire at the angels, his thick scales protecting him from most of the blows. The tail cracked like a whip, taking down one of the angels and tossing him down into the fiery chasm where the Armies clashed.
“Die with you…”, he mockingly hissed. “Do I look like I want to share your miserable fate? I have better aspirations than following after your footsteps of failure”, Azazel replied, lashing out at the archangel with his sharp claws. Azazel flourished Lufernatia and flapped his wings to force the angels to recede. Raphael had the lead; Azazel noticed him a little off. Stupid Beelzebub, Azazel thought. “Off, disgusting creature!”, he yelled at Raphael. Azazel’s claws tore into Michael’s flesh. Azazel spit fire at Raphael, his eyes blazing in hatred.
“Veiling Light!” Raphael shouted as the flames flew towards him. Raphael halted in midair as the bright gold light of Strife forms an energy shield, blocking the fire off. “Is this all the power you have, kid?!” Raphael shouted, refusing to call Azazel by the name, “Show me what you’ve got!” Raphael took a quick dive and hacked at the dragon hands which were crushing Michael in their locked embrace.
Azazel’s vigilant eye followed Raphael’s dive and as soon as the archangel got in front of the dragon’s face to stab the claw that held Michael, he nonchalantly spit a fireball at Raphael as he was uncovered. Azazel moved his fingers slightly, blood from the stab fading into his crimson scales. Azazel clenched his teeth.
“Shoo”, the dragon said with a sneer. He flapped his wings and crouched down, getting ready to take flight. His wings were enormous; the wind caused by the flapping wings sent a rain of fire and sparks into his enemies’ eyes.
Raphael was taken by surprise as the fireball came flying. Raphael tilted his head over and it missed his cheek narrowly, though the hotness of it burned his flesh. Raphael drew a Sun Sigil above him with Strife, and it enlarged as it went down on Azazel’s body, wrapping him and trapping him. With a fierce burst of energy, Raphael flew up into the air and charged downwards, stabbing Strife into Azazel’s feet, embedding deep into the ground.
Azazel narrowed his eyes, pulling his hand off Strife without apparent pain. The dragon opened his mighty wings and stretched out the magical net, chanting an infernal spell; the net ripped in various points; Azazel leapt and dropped his bleeding claw on Michael, trapping him beneath. The platform shook with the tremendous weight; Azazel chanted the second verse of the spell, fire coming out of his very scales; the net began to fade slowly. Azazel ripped the net and freed his wings to an extent, the net steadily fading.
Azazel’s fingers slowly closed on Michael, his blood choking the archangel. The dragon roared and spit fire at Raphael in a cold, calculated attack.
Raphael grunted as he dived down again, hitting Azazel’s claw off Michael with all his strength before blocking Azazel’s path to Michael. He raised his arm, and stabbed Strife into Azazel’s dragon neck. Raphael shouted as he pushed it in further, and the holy energy burst in Azazel with a bright golden light, strong enough to burn Azazel and to even fend off his fire.
Azrael sent the Legions of Death and Destruction to attack from the peripheria and to the epicenter of the Battle in an attempt to keep the Demons into the chasm, to force them back into the Abyss. The Legions quickly took their positions, the angels chanting a spell to call upon the Elements of the human world, calling upon the Dark side of the Moon on which Azrael’s Name was written.
Azrael led a small group including Rishta and Belial over the chasm and near the platform where Raphael and Azazel fought. Michael was nowhere to be seen, but his faint presence revealed he was under the bleeding claw of the monster. Azrael and her group circled, looking for Azazel’s weakest points to center their attack while Raphael distracted him.
Azazel swatted at Raphael as he stabbed his neck, picking him up like a bug by the wings. The huge beast smashed the archangel to the ground and cracked his neck moving his head to the sides. This made Azazel lean his front weight on Michael, who barely moved under his claw, soaked in the demon’s poisonous blood.
“Annoying kid“, the dragon mockingly said, alluding to Raphael’s girlie face. “You could hurt yourself!” Azazel arched his neck to look at him and suddenly noticed Raphael was blind in the eerie way his eyes followed after his movements. Azazel burst out laughing. “Some fighter you are!”, he mockingly hissed, blood running in a faint stream to his scaly chest. “The Blind Avenger?” Azazel spit fire at him aiming close to Raphael but not straight at him in obvious mockery.
“Get your facts right, kid,” Raphael gasped as he held onto Strife with his right hand tightly, “I’m OLDER than you, existing in this world even before your father and mother started messing around and gave birth to YOU – the hellspawn!” Raphael coughed up a little blood as he flew away from Azazel. He held onto his chest for a while, checking his wounds before slashing through the air, the golden energies hitting onto Azazel all over his body from everywhere.
“A blind avenger is better than a person with good eyes but unable to tell who’s the real kid!” Raphael yelled as he sent a large beam of energy towards Azazel’s face.
Azazel rose his wings with the remains of the net and quickly used a spell of Will to revert it using it as a shield to Raphael’s first attack; he arched his neck and let out fire in a continuous flow, crashing against Raphael’s attack and steadily pushing the Light energy back. Yet his mouth was busy, Azazel’s dark and heavy snigger lingered in the air full of sparks, ashes and burning sulfur. The match of energies slowly favored Azazel, his fire going closer and closer to Raphael as the Light receded. Michael was barely visible under Azazel’s heavy, huge claw.
Johnathon peeked around the edge of the giant throne. “Good God, he’s turned into a dragon!” he said breathlessly. “A dragon, Samael! A fire-breathing, winged, scaly red dragon!”
“I know, I know!” Samael shot back, grasping a silver dagger and red crystal tightly in his hands.
“We can’t fight that… even the angels cannot beat it back.” Johnathon sank back behind the throne, and leaned against it, staring blankly into the sky. “We pushed him too far, Samael. Maybe, as a mere devil, we could have beaten him… but now…”
Samael paused for a moment, and looked up at Johnathon. As much as Samael himself had changed in the past few days, he suspected his old rival had changed even more. He had come out here without hesitation, something Samael himself would have had to debate over with himself. And for what? For his friends? For a pat on the back? “Johnathon, I beg of you, take whatever shreds of courage you have left, and stay with me here! I… I cannot do this alone.”
“I have no courage or bravery!” Johnathon snapped, shooting Samael a murderous stare. “Even I don’t know why I’m out here! I thought it was because it’s my job, because I have a responsibility to the world… but now, it all seems so futile.” He looked back around the throne, at Michael’s bloody body, as it lay beneath the claws of the dragon. “Despair is always more powerful than hope, Samael. That is why the darkness is so strong. Hope is fleeting, but resentment and bitterness are forever.”
Samael set his red crystal down, and used his free hand to smack Johnathon cleanly across the face. “You fool! You stupid, small-minded idiot! You, of all people, coming here knowing you could die… you have more courage than you know! Besides,” he continued, picking up his gem again, “you led me out here, and so help me, I am not going to give my life in vain! Do you still possess the Silver Herald?”
Johnathon blinked. Give his life? What did he mean by that? “Silver Herald…? Yes, I do,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and removing a pair of silver crosses bound together by a golden chain. “The Silver Herald of Saint George, the knight who slew the great dragon. Do you honestly expect me to use this?”
“You must,” Samael said, closing his eyes. “Because I will be busy.”
Samael began to chant, and the pages of his grimoire shone with an infernal light. Johnathon recognized this spell–it was the gate spell Samael had used during their battle that started this whole mess. Was he going to summon more demons to battle Azazel? What good was that going to do?
Several tense moments passed, and when Samael was finished, both of the relics he was holding were shining brightly, splitting even the darkness of the Abyss. “Come on, Morris,” Samael said, standing up. “It’s time to finish this.”
Swallowing his gut-churning fear, Johnathon nodded, and followed Samael calmly around the throne. Much to his regret, the dragon was still standing there, swatting at Raphael while Michael lay in a bloody heap amongst a pile of ashes.
“Viator!” Samael called out. The red stone activated, and lifted out of the doctor’s open hand. Spinning wildly in the air for a moment, it eventually came to a halt, and pointed directly over Azazel’s shoulder. With another command word, a thin red stream of light flew from the stone, and shot past the dragon.
“Samael! You fool! You missed!” Johnathon shouted.
Before Samael could even get a retort out, the very air began to shimmer, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone. Lightning flew across the sky, and the earth around the manor began to heave as reality twisted itself around Samael’s arcane spell. With a deafening roar, the sky split open behind the dragon, revealing a churning black abyss, dark enough to make even Azazel’s blackness look bright in comparison.
“Now, Morris!” Samael barked. “Use the Silver Herald!”
Johnathon nodded, and slung the golden cord around his neck. Almost immediately, he could feel the boundless power of the relic flowing through him, like a torrential river. A strong, deep voice called to him, filling his panicked mind with centuries of knowledge and wisdom. His fears melted like ice on a hot anvil as the Silver Herald ignited his hands in a burning white fire. He started this whole mess… and now, by God, he was going to finish it!
“My fist is the divine breath!” he shouted, finally grabbing the dragon’s attention. “Hear me, demon, and know that it was a Morris who would signal your defeat! Now, take your resentment, your hatred, and all of your anger back into the dark corners of Hell where it belongs!”
In a sudden flare of light, the Silver Heralds activated, throwing a great wave of pure force at Azazel, slamming into him hard enough to almost knock him out of the sky. Even combined with Raphael’s power, though, it was still not enough. Azazel’s will was second to none, and in this, his hour of triumph, he would not be denied!
“It’s…it’s not working…!” Johnathon choked out, leaning into the force to keep it from pushing him over onto his back. “Samael! It’s not…”
“I know,” Samael replied, a surprising amount of calm in his voice. “That is why I always have a backup plan.” He looked down at the silver knife in his hands, and smiled as it shone brightly. “Morris… Johnathon… whatever you do with your life, do not surrender it to another. Make it your own.”
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Samael actually smiled at him. Not a cold, menacing smirk of revenge… but a pure, warm smile.
“Samael, what in Heaven’s name are you–Samael!!” Johnathon was too late. Samael took his sorcerous weapon by the hilt, and charged Azazel head-on. Human, angel and demon alike all watched in amazement as Samael uttered one final command word, shattering the knife like it was made of glass. A blazing golden curtain of light surrounded Samael as he vaulted clear up to the dragon, and slammed himself against it like a sledgehammer. With Johnathon’s Silver Herald, Raphael’s own power, and Samael’s spell all working together, Azazel started to be pushed back into the gate of the abyss.
Azrael quickly sent order to the Legions to leave the skies at once, leading her small group onto the platform. Azrael sent Rishta and Belial to get Michael back and she herself went to Raphael’s aid, standing beside him and sending a beam of Dark Holy power onto Azazel’s body, giving a mighty push to the aid of Raphael and Samael. Debris and rock flew as Azazel tried to take hold of the platform, roaring madly as the clashing energies forced his fire to recede and his heavy massive body was being pushed back and off the ground, into the cold hole in the skies.
Belial was amazed at this development. A shiver ran up his spine as he identified the elements of the Spell the humans were casting and his surprise was greater when he saw Samael Norse was involved – and charging against Azazel! Belial had not believed the man would carry out what he had told him he would when Belial freed his soul; the Fallen’s eyes widened in wonder. The Gate opened in the skies awaited like a black mouth trying to suck the world into its bottomless Dark; Belial summoned the Scythe and ran to Azazel’s claw followed by Rishta; he rose the Scythe and hit. Blood spurted from Azazel’s scales but the dragon was not opening his fingers – he was going to drag Michael along with him!
Azazel roared, still trying to push the energies back with his fire. A small form clashed against him, carrying a source of Holy energies that made the demon lose his balance and causing his body to be pushed up into the air; Azazel howled madly and flapped his wings, fiercely resisting. Something pierced his hand where he held Michael, but he refused to open his scaly fingers. Azazel was losing his match with the archangels, demonic and angelic forces colliding; the unknown attacker beneath him with the holy artifact exasperated the demon’s fury.
His power was supposed to be greater! He was supposed to be easily able to crush down them all! Azazel lashed out with tail and talons, inexorably pushed back into a cold void that suddenly appeared behind him. Azazel took in a deep breath and continued to try to push the holy rays back with his hellish fire. Sparks flew around him.
Belial was frustrated; he nearly slipped on the pool of blood and he knew his own might was not fully regained; he would not be able to cut through the demon’s bones and Michael would be dragged into the Abyss! Belial himself could be dragged there any minute along with Azazel, Rishta and Michael. Belial turned the Scythe into the Staff and pushed the top of the Staff of Simara, squeezing it between Michael and Azazel’s fingers. I do hope this works… Belial summoned the Light within him and canalized it with the Staff inside Azazel’s fist. Beams of Light came out between the demon’s fingers and through the large gash Strife had made. Azazel’s fingers refused to open. Belial enhanced his power till his senses went numb. Finally, the dragon loosened his grip. Belial forced the fingers open with the Staff and Michael’s body dropped to the ground. “Drag him away, Rishta!”, Belial yelled in the ravaging winds. “Drag him away!”
Raphael flew away before the fire caught him right on his face. He turned, and could sense Azrael and the rest coming to his aid. There was another source of energy too, mixing with his power. It took Raphael a moment to realize who it was. The humans! They were creating a seal to reseal Azazel and his Armies! Raphael grunted. All they need is time, and Raphael decided he would supply them with it by distracting Azazel a little bit longer.
Raphael raised Strife and a loud gold light exploded in Azazel’s thick scaly skin as he cut down in the air swiftly, adding his power source to what Azazel was trying to repel currently.
“Awake, Michael!” Raphael cried out as he flew above Azazel and stabbed Strife into Azazel’s head with all his force, attempting to split it open. Sealing Azazel would be good, but killing him would be better.
Azazel roared as the holy beams crashed onto his nuzzle, his fire useless; he was already up into the air, lashing out to take a hold of the Mortal Plane; in the moment he was forced to let go of Michael’s body, the Demon let out a blood-curdling howl. Azazel felt a holy weapon trying to penetrate his skull; the dragon curled up, bringing his tail to the front and cracked it like a whip, hitting a feathery target; Azazel was partially blinded by the energies and the attack. The tail cracked again, sending Raphael and Strife flying. “Off, kid!”, he growled in arrogance. Azazel lashed out in an attempt to get Michael again. “Where are you, Michael? Hiding again…?” Azazel’s sinister voice had a malevolent mirth to it.
Azazel’s claws cut through the air. “Blasted spawn of Heaven!” Azazel reached out blindly, being steadily pushed into the cold bottomless pit open behind him. “I won’t go back there without you!” Azazel sensed a source of the Holy energies pushing him and swiftly lashed at it, capturing a writhing living form. The Demon closed his fingers tightly. Azazel realized this source of Holy energies was definitely a human. A human! How and when had humans got onto his Sanctórum?
Autumn! Where was she?! In the Demon’s feverish mind, the red-haired woman seemed strangely distant, lacking the importance she used to have. Azazel felt the ominous presence of the Portal behind him, almost there already. The Demon howled. How and why had the Portal so suddenly appeared? He could sense it now.
The Portal was humans’ work! If so, maybe it could be reverted. Azazel summoned Lufernatia in a final attempt to take as many lives as possible before being cast back into the Abyss; he tried to unwind the spell he could not find a way and the Portal seemed to open further to swallow him. Azazel flapped his wings. “Miserable Humans!!! I’ll wipe you off the face of the World!!!”
Raphael would not give up, though the tail had caught his upper arm, and it stung from pain as if he had been burnt by fire. “You are the Child of Lucifer, who used to be a most respected angel!” Raphael shouted as he flew to Azazel’s head once again, and sat on him firmly. Raphael removed his necklace from his neck and cast a spell. The chain enlarged and became longer. Raphael flung it around Azazel’s neck, choking him. The angelic forces of the chain and cross burns Azazel. Raphael held onto the chain with one hand as if reining a horse, while his other hand summoned Strife, and stabbed into Azazel’s skull again.
“Return to the inferno of Hell!!!” Raphael shouted as he sent Strife deeper. When Azazel was pushed down low enough, Raphael removed his chain and Strife.
“LIGHT!!!” Raphael cried out as he smashed Azazel’s head with Strife heavily with his golden light, pushing him down further. Before flying off, Raphael gave Azazel a hard kick. “Back to your home!!!” Raphael cried, “Where you are born!!!”
The tail cracked like a swift whip, missing Raphael’s foot but winding around a feathery wings like a snake on a bird; Azazel crushed the bones in the archangel’s wings with all his hatred. The mighty muscles of the gigantic beast’s neck went larger with anger, bursting the chain open; Lufernatia flashed with black light, the energy reducing what was left of Moloch’s house to dust. Azazel howled, the sum of all hatred and anger under the skies in his blood-curdling voice; his eyes blazed like fallen stars, blood running down the twisted dragon’s face. Azazel flapped his huge wings; Lufernatia’s black fire hit the cliff; a large crack ran on the onyx-like surface, bursting the energies of the sigils on the summoning ground and causing the platform to sway dangerously.
“Why not come along, kid?”, Azazel sinisterly said; Lufernatia’s black fire hit the chasm, increasing the burning flames onto the Hellgate that lay beneath. You and all your damned brethren!”, he howled. “All humans will be destroyed, I’ll make sure of that!” “Specially you…!”, he growled, spotting Johnathon on the platform; Azazel clutched his claw holding Samael. “Moloch’s taint is all over you! To hers I add this curse: You’ll never be trusted; havoc and hell will follow you and your soul will never rest! The taint of Evil will never leave your House and it’ll endure in your bloodline! Forever damned, only in Hell your soul will find its final destination!” Azazel laughed, a mix of hatred and madness. “Your friend will precede you into Hell!”
A beam of Dark hit Azazel’s tail from Azrael’s sword; the Demon’s howl made the stones vibe and crack open as he lost his grip on Raphael. The archangel fell, away from Azazel’s reach. “I DAMN YOU ALL!!!”, he shouted as he Portal sucked him in with his last prey. Azazel arched his long neck and cast a cunning look at Autumn, catching a glimpse of her fiery auburn hair.
Then it clicked. Somehow Azazel finally linked the loss of the ring with the drop in his power; how that woman only came to him by the ring and by the ring she was again a face in the crowd. Meaningless woman now? No. He’d have both of them back.
“I’ve not forgotten my oath, dear“, he hissed. I have sworn over the object you treasure I’ll come back to you.” The Portal’s gravitation caught Azazel, swallowing him. There was a large thunder, as if a crack had split the Heavens in half. The red clouds swirled and were sucked in, then the Portal seemed to ripple like an image in the dark waters of a pond in a large implosion. The Portal was gone and with it, Azazel and Samael.
The Hell Gate down the chasm spit a column of fire to the night sky, consuming demons and angels alike; the armies for both parties shot off the chasm to escape a horrible death; many demons ran into the Night and the angels could not stop their flee. Upon the departure of its Master and the Sealing, the Hellgate slowly imploded. The Abyss was again sealed. The heavy clouds streaked by magicks were gone, revealing a crystal-like night sky, gray in the prelude of dawn. A shy beam of golden light appeared in the horizon. The Night had come to an end.