Azrael stood alone in the shadow of the monument, his wings barely rustling in the still air. The ancient structure loomed ahead of him, an imposing silhouette etched against the blood-red sky. It wasn't just a structure—it was a reminder. A reminder of an age long past, a time when gods and angels walked the earth freely, before the great rebellion. Before everything had been torn apart.
He had returned to this place, this forgotten corner of the world, to witness its fate. He had always known that one day he would be drawn back here, that the chains of his past would call him to this very spot. But even after centuries of wandering through the fractured realms, his heart still felt a coldness as it beat within him.
There was a palpable silence, the kind that filled the air just before a storm broke. It clung to the land, pressing in on him from all sides. The air was thick with the scent of dust, stone, and something far more ancient—an energy that vibrated just beneath the surface, waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Something that had been inevitable for far too long.
The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, and the darkness of the night began to creep in, though the sky remained a shade of crimson as if caught between day and night. The faintest of winds stirred, sending small eddies of dust spinning at his feet. Azrael glanced around, his eyes narrowing, searching for any sign of life, any movement that would break the stillness of this place.
And then he heard it. A voice, low and commanding, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand years. "You're late, Azrael."
His heart stopped for a brief moment, the sound of that voice both familiar and foreign, as though a distant memory had risen from the depths of his mind. Slowly, he turned, his wings shifting with a slight breeze, revealing the figure standing behind him.
Lucifer.
The Morning Star. The once-favored angel who had fallen from grace. He stood before Azrael, his presence radiating an aura of power and confidence. His eyes—once full of divine light—were now dark, their depth like the endless void of space. His form was tall and regal, dressed in a cloak as black as the night sky itself, adorned with faint glimmers of starlight, a reminder of his former glory.
Azrael didn't speak immediately. He just stood there, looking at Lucifer, his face hardening into a mask of indifference. The years of conflict, of rebellion, of betrayal, all coiled within him like a serpent waiting to strike. He had never fully trusted Lucifer—how could he? Lucifer was the one who had fallen, the one who had turned his back on everything they had once stood for.
And yet, there was something in the air between them now, something heavier than the weight of their past. The tension was thick enough to cut with a blade.
"I had hoped you wouldn't come," Azrael said at last, his voice rough, like the grinding of stone on stone. "What are you doing here, Lucifer?"
Lucifer smiled, though it was a smile that held no warmth. "Hoping for a reunion, I presume? Or perhaps expecting some divine intervention? That was never going to happen, Azrael." His voice held a hint of mockery, but there was a deeper sadness in it—one that Azrael could feel in the pit of his stomach.
The silence stretched between them, neither of them moving. Azrael didn't know what to feel anymore—resentment, confusion, maybe even something darker. Lucifer had fallen, and Azrael had risen, but they had both paid a price for their choices. A price that had driven them to this moment, here, in the shadow of the monument that marked the boundary between worlds.
"You know why I'm here," Lucifer continued, his gaze shifting to the monument behind Azrael. "The seals are breaking. The time of waiting is over."
Azrael's blood ran cold at the words. The seals. The ancient bindings that had kept the world—kept everything—safe. He had known this day would come, had felt it stirring in the ether, but hearing Lucifer speak of it, so calmly, so knowingly, made the reality of it all the more terrifying.
"You're not afraid?" Azrael asked, his voice low. "You've always known what was coming, haven't you?"
Lucifer's smile widened, but it was the smile of a man who had lost everything and now found himself reveling in the chaos that was sure to come. "Afraid? No. I've waited for this moment for too long. It is you who is afraid, Azrael. You're afraid of what will happen when everything you've known, everything you've fought for, falls apart. It's inevitable."
Azrael's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond. What was there to say? The weight of Lucifer's words hung in the air, each syllable a reminder of the price they had both paid. What was the world now, after all that had transpired? What was left for him to protect?
The wind picked up, rustling the branches of the withered trees that stood like silent sentinels around the monument. In the distance, the sky darkened further, as if the heavens themselves were being consumed by a shadow. Azrael's heart raced in his chest as he felt the air grow heavier, more oppressive.
And then he heard it—the first faint rumble, deep in the earth. A sound like thunder, but far more ancient, as though something buried for eons was waking.
Lucifer's smile faltered, just for a moment, before it returned. "It's begun."
Azrael's wings twitched involuntarily as the vibrations underfoot grew stronger, the ground trembling beneath him. The monument itself seemed to pulse, as though the stone itself was alive, responding to some unseen force. The seals—the ancient bindings that had kept the world at bay—had finally given way. The trembling of the earth was only the beginning.
Azrael's mind raced. He had known that the seals would eventually fail, that the power that had once held the forces of chaos and destruction at bay would not last forever. But to be standing here, to feel it in his bones, to feel the earth tremble beneath him as the forces of darkness stirred, was something he had never truly imagined.
"Do you hear that?" Lucifer asked, his voice soft now, almost contemplative. "That's the sound of the world waking up. Of everything you've worked to protect crumbling before you."
Azrael turned his gaze back to the monument. The ground around it cracked, and dark, swirling shadows began to pour from the fissures, creeping up the sides of the ancient stones. The sky above seemed to crack open, revealing a vast, starless void, and the air grew thick with the stench of decay and death. From the shadows, figures began to emerge—twisted, monstrous forms that seemed to ripple and writhe with a malevolent energy.
Azrael took a step back, his wings unfurling slightly, preparing himself for whatever would come next. His heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the scene, trying to gauge the strength of what was unfolding before him.
Lucifer stood unmoving, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of anticipation and satisfaction. "The end is nigh, Azrael. And you—well, you've always been too slow to adapt."
The figures that emerged from the cracks in the earth were giants—massive, towering creatures that had been imprisoned long ago. These were the offspring of the angels who had fallen, their twisted forms a mixture of human and monstrous. Some of them were humanoid, their bodies covered in dark, spiked armor, while others were grotesque, with many limbs, mouths filled with sharp teeth, and eyes that burned with an unnatural fire.
Azrael's heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the scene, but his resolve hardened. The forces of darkness had risen, but he wasn't going to let them claim the world so easily.
This was just the beginning.