Prologue: The Angel’s Swear
By: Plasmadon and Corundum
A/N: This is NOT a religion-based fic. It's merely an idea Corundum and I had while brainstorming.
Humans.
Such simply complex creatures they are. They live their lives in ignorance, only seeing what they choose to see, while pretending they are immortal, infallible, and omniscient. There are few who deny this stereotype and live their lives as the humble beings they were created to be. Then there are others. There are the very few who have inherited the blood of the archangels, the immortals who ferry the will of God. Humanity calls them frauds and cast them out of society. The small number of them that carry that bloodline can twist and bend the forces of the arcane. Simply put, wizards.
One of those wizards is me.
My name is Zedren Morrigas. Fighting demons has become more than second-nature to me. And by demons, I literally mean demons.
Thousands of years ago, the archangel Uriel proclaimed he was going to… well, not retire, exactly. Just to save up energy for the Armageddon. He went into hiding, and only the all-seeing eye of the Almighty has ever glimpsed him since. In return for his millennia of active service, the Almighty allowed Uriel a wife of such incomparable beauty that she was rivaled only by the angelic spirit of Mary herself. The wife’s name was Aphrodite, and together the two of them bore seven children: Anael, Vadriel, Muriel, Senael, Marael, Causel, and Gadriel. Uriel’s position as the angel of death needed to be filled, so he sent his sons and daughters out to protect the innocent from demons, and carry their souls to the Hall of Judgment. Of course, they abided by their father’s wish, but they were half-mortal, and thus susceptible to the temptations of power. The children saw this temptation and turned it on itself, using their increasing power to seal away the blackened Ninth Ring, where Satan was trapped in ice and chained with light. Causel decided that they seven should take partners and bear children, so that the immortal blood of Uriel could burn away and protect the world from the hordes of demons that Hell offered.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much why I was about to die at the hands of a Pride Shell.
The day had started off normally enough: I had woken up, actually done my job, went on a date with a rather fine lady, and returned home to extend my consciousness over the entire town. Since I was the only capable wizard on the island of Danu Talis, I was the one that had to deal with all of the demonic forces on the isle. Well, I say the only capable one, but it’s true. Karmine is only six, and Verindel is so old he can only walk about twenty paces before keeling over, exhausted. He makes a damn good taco, though. I had gotten a call from Verindel telling me that he had a hunch on the Emerald Cliffs. When a man like him has a hunch, you’d best be prepared to fight.
I grabbed all of my equipment: my staff, coat, and demon repellents, along with my sword, Vindris. You’re probably wondering why a wizard has a sword, right? Well listen up, kiddies, ’cause it’s time for a lesson.
When you’ve finished your studies in wizardry to a certain extent, you’re deemed an “exorcist”. Once you’ve completed seven unaided exorcisms; that is, the banishing or purification of a demonic entity, one of the archangels pops up. Sometimes it’s in a dream, sometimes it’s in a mirror, but for one reason or another, they always show up. The next thing you know, you have a staff and sword in your hands. My personal weapon is a seven-foot oak staff set with a silver crescent moon on the knobbed top. My sword, Vindris, is a Chinese taijijian, a longsword with barely any crossguard and a tassel trailing from the ringed pommel. The blade itself is a fiery orange, inlaid with angelic script along the fuller. I headed out the door of my crappy apartment and trod along the street.
I had lived in the town of Sirius for my entire life, so the concept of wizardry wasn’t as foreign to my town mates as the rest of the world. They knew enough that there was something off about me, and some of them had even seen my magic on occasion, but I kept my angelic lineage to myself. So, when I locked my door with all my gear on, my neighbors wished me luck and sent me off with gusto. Probably hoping I’d get killed, the lovable bastards.
I tried to focus. In order to activate angel blood, you have to be completely and utterly focused. This is rightfully countered by the fact that every Uriel descendant in history was either schizophrenic, ADD, or hyper-observant. I did my best to clear my mind and extend my senses as I crossed town. I could feel the quiet hum of power from Verindel’s house, the sporadic bursts of power that presumably came from Karmine, and the whispers of the spirits of every townsman in a three mile radius. A flare of heady black power rippled on the edge of town.
“Found you,” I murmured, opening my eyes and unstrapping my staff from my back. I set off for the Cliffs, hoping to dear Allah, God or whatever Almighty being ruled the universe that I got to have a little fun with this one.
“Alright, I take it back!” I shouted, running for my life. “I don’t want to have fun anymore!” my legs pumped fast as I ran from the Pride Shell. Those things are pains in the ass. Their draconic bodies never stop moving, and they can use their heads and tails to strike at once. The big problem I had with Pride Shells was that I wasn’t very fast. I could run like hell when needed, sure, but agility wasn’t my strong suit. I therefore had to rely on my staff and sword even more than usual.
“הוריקן¹!” I shouted, sending a blast of wind towards the hell-beast. Thank the Almighty that Hebrew can conduct magic better than almost any language. Latin was okay too, but it took too long to learn all the words and grammar, and Hebrew was more direct.
The Shell roared in pain as my compressed air bubble hit directly in the face. I used the momentary distraction to halt my escape, turn around, and promptly throw Vindris at the Shell’s midsection. It struck true, and the demon roared again. I guided the enraged bastard around the Cliff side, forcing it back towards the crystalline sea. Just as it was about to fall off, I thrust my staff forward.
“כלא גביש²!” I snarled. The crescent moon burst into pale yellow light, and the water under the Cliffs rose to my needs. It was a strong spell, but it was tiring as crazy, and I nearly buckled under the strain of my blood almost literally boiling. The deluge of ocean water brought itself up to the Shell’s level, before soaking it. I twisted my staff in a final grunt of effort, and the water flash-froze.
With the Shell inside it.
I shook for a moment before shoving myself to my feet. Using the long wooden tool at my side, I limped forward. Once I got to the crystal bubble, I tore Vindris out of the Shell, and turned.
Creeaaaaakk!
I glanced back quickly. In my haste to rid myself of the Pride Shell, I forgot about the Last Testament completely!
The Last Testament of the Demons is a curse that gets placed on a demon when it ventures into the mortal world. It has varying effects, from a violent death to a slow and painful disease. This one, however, was different.
The bubble shattered, and instead of seeing the bluish sky beyond, there was only a black sphere. No light, no heat, nothing. It was like it was literally nonexistent.
Suddenly, the Shell’s spirit jerked out of the ball of nothing. It wrapped around my leg, and slowly dragged me in. I dug Myrias and my staff into the ground, desperately trying to hold on. All it did was make furrows in the ground.
“You will not esssscape,” it hissed.
“Fuck you!” I shouted back. It just clamped down even harder and dragged me in.
“God dammit!” I yelled. Using one of the names of the Almighty and a curse in the same sentence wasn’t really a good idea, but I was too busy trying not to get disintegrated to care. A cold numbness spread over my feet, closely followed by my legs.
I lost the strength to struggle at that point, and merely sent out a distress beacon to Karmine and Verindel.
“לעזאזל איתך³,” I said to the Shell. It merely gave a vague impression of a smirk and dragged me the entire way through the ball of nothing.
I awoke falling. Not falling out of a dream, literally falling. The wind rushed past my face as I opened my eyes, promptly shut them, and screamed like a little girl, reaching for my staff.
“⁴להאט!” I shrieked, gripping the wooden rod like it was a life-ring. I had enough magic left in me to slow my descent considerably, but I was still approaching the ground at a breakneck speed.
“I wonder how I’m going to get around this one. Hey, is that a rainbow?” I turned at my own speech. A massive rainbow dome was spreading from a town not far away. The magic vibes it was giving off were crazy; almost as much as me or Verindel when we’re running full. The rainbow shockwave spread outwards.
“Holy shit, it’s heading for me!” Holy shit: another cuss that doesn’t go over well with the forces of Light. Hey, at least it’s not *______ __ _ ______*. See, I can’t even think it without being censored.
The rainbow hit me, and a blaze of agony filled my systems. My blood literally burst into flame, a side effect of the angelic blood in me. My vision blackened, and I think I passed out.
I dreamed of a black stone prison. A dark lattice of bars separated the outside and my body. I looked around, and saw a dark figure chained to a wall. Soft light spread from Hebrew writing above it. There was only one word:
"⁵בוגד"
My stomach dropped into my feet.
“Well… shit.”
Hebrew Word Translations:
1: Hurricane
2: Icy Prison
3: Damn You
4: Slow
5: Traitor