Chapter Three: Gabriel

Previous Chapter: Uriel

First Chapter: Michael

The pleadingly mournful chants flooded the black onyx chamber from all directions. In the very center of the anteroom, Gabriel stood, head raised to the cosmos above, eyes closed, and listened.

The anteroom was a spider-like design, with an open-roof rotunda that led to eight separate hallways. Two of these hallways led to the final destination for those chanting. The other halls were reserved for those awaiting judgment. Gabriel often thought about writing an instructional tablet for the new arrivals, since the pattern was now firmly established; bargain, cry, accept, and then pray.

Gabriel listened to the pleading and praying. He had heard it for centuries, since retiring from the long-fought war and accepting this position. Some prayed for forgiveness, others salvation. Too late, he thought to himself; once you are here, it is too late for prayer.
In his right hand, he held a folded piece of paper that bore Yang’s royal seal. He opened it again, raising his right hand and easily summoning light to allow him to once again, survey the letter’s contents.

Gabriel;
The Slaughter of the Innocents was an unprovoked act of terrorism that clearly demonstrates how far Yin is willing to go to conquer us. What she did cannot be ignored, and must be avenged.
Please be at the Asgardian royal court in three days time, where Lord Yang will break open the Nexus Stone. Those present will receive the brunt of its power, and go forth more powerful than anyone that has come before them. They will go to hell itself if they must, for none of Yin’s demons will stand against them, and sever her hand in order to force her surrender if they must.
This war must end now. We will suffer no more innocent lives lost.
Very Sincerely Yours,
Phalador,
Of the Order of Oracles

Gabriel closed his eyes and winced, folding the letter carefully as not to wrinkle it. The nexus stone, Yang, what are you thinking…

The cosmos opened above him and pure white light poured in from the center above, opening and overtaking the starry sky above. Gabriel looked up to see a darkly-robed figure descending; in his arms was a Cro-Magnon man who was holding him for dear life.

Gabriel stepped back to allow the angel to alight on the ground gently, lowering the man to the floor. The man instantly collapsed and scurried to his feet. Terrified, he whirled around the antechamber, trying to identify the chilling, eerie sounds that reverberated throughout the chamber. Above them, the light closed to the size of a pinprick before sealing itself.

The angel removed the hood of his robe to reveal himself to Gabriel, and bowed, closing his eyes. “Master Gabriel,” He acknowledged humbly. Gabriel nodded to him, smiling. “Azrael,” He returned. “See to your charge, and then I must speak with you.”

“There is nothing to see too.” Azrael replied, his voice cold and emotionless as always, “His fate has been decided.”

Gabriel was curious; it was rare for one’s fate to be decided so soon after arrival. He looked past Azrael to the Cro-Magnon. Although the man was unaware of it, he had been overtaken by a black aura that seemed constituted by millions of particles, as though a disease was slowly overtaking him. Indeed, his path was set.

Gabriel nodded. “Very well.” He said, “Take him.”
The Cro-Magnon stood erect, looking to them as Azrael approached. He spoke a series of unintelligible grunts that slowly translated into the angelian language. “Take me?” He demanded, his tone angry, “You will take me nowhere.”

Azrael went to take his arm, “I will take you,” He replied flatly, “Or I will allow them to come for you. The choice is yours.”

The Cro-Magnon snatched his arm away and the black aura retched with him, acting as though alive. “Who are you?” He roared, “What is this place?”

Azrael slowly lowered his hand, and Gabriel stepped back, knowing what was coming. The hallway to the right suddenly burst with an inhuman roar, a cacophony of strained hunger, and an orange hue danced along the wall. Everyone turned to look, but only Gabriel and Azrael knew what it meant; they’re waiting.

“This,” Azrael began his tone dropping as he turned from the hallway, “is the last place you will ever know peace.”

Azrael wasn’t sure the man had heard him, transfixed on the hallway. He knew.

He quickly shook his head, backing off without taking his eyes from the walls. The fear coursing through him now was nothing compared to when he had arrived. “No,” He stammered, “You won’t take me to that place…”

Azrael reached for the man’s shoulder. Again, the man quickly knocked it away. When he turned to Azrael, there was fire in his eyes, his teeth tightly clenched together. “I’LL KILL YOU BEFORE I GO THERE!! I’LL KILL YOU!”

Gabriel merely observed. In their final moments, a select few—usually the worst—chose this path. Although new to the legion, Azrael had quickly proven that he was best at dealing with these few.

Roaring, the Cro-Magnon stepped into Azrael and swung an open hand towards Azrael’s head. As Azrael stepped to the side, beneath the black aura, Azrael clearly saw the blood dried on the man’s sharpened nails. It wouldn’t have mattered even if the blow had connected; in the antechamber, members of the legion were immune to the residents.

Azrael swayed, swatting the blow aside and getting behind the Cro-Magnon. Azrael quickly wrapped his right arm around the man’s neck and squeezed tightly, clutching his own wrist with his left hand to secure the chokehold. The Cro-Magnon, struggling for breath, could do nothing but struggle. Keeping his eye on the hallway behind him, Azrael began to drag the man to his final destination.

Azrael could already smell the pervasive sulfur that emanated from the pit roughly fifteen feet away. Behind him, flames leapt and bound, tinged purple as they consumed their endless supply of brimstone and damned. Endlessly tortured and burned, Azrael could see them as they climbed to the doorway. Eyeless, mouths forced open as they screamed eternally, they appeared hollow, their skin a brightly burnt orange as the flames that ate away at them, they appeared hollow and desperately reaching for Azrael’s prey so that they’re pain may be shared.

“Please,” The Cro-Magnon pleaded, “Give me another chance! I will spare those people…”

Azrael felt no pity, only wishing that the Cro-Magnon had chosen a less fatty diet when he had the chance. “It is too late for that.”

“PLEASE!” The man begged, now at the doorway. Beneath them, the damned howled, eagerly reaching upwards. “You made your choice.” Azrael said, “Now accept its consequences.”

The Cro-Magnon screamed as Azrael pivoted, releasing him into Hell. He screamed as he fell, and Azrael didn’t stay to watch as the demons laid their hands upon him and begun to tear him asunder. He did, however, hear the Cro-Magnon scream as he walked away.

Azrael met Gabriel back at the center of the antechamber. As long as Gabriel had been in charge of the legion, he had never encountered anyone such as Azrael, who eschewed emotion for the task at hand. Still, looking into his steely black eyes, Gabriel could almost be afraid. Azrael had no loyalty to anyone, yet he didn’t pursue power either. It was as though the angel was looking for something to believe in.

“Master Gabriel,” Azrael spoke respectfully, “If there is nothing else, I must return to my duties.”

“Young Azrael,” Gabriel began, “I wish to know something.”

Azrael waited.

“Explain your desire to join the legion.”

“With this war consuming most of our efforts,” Azrael stated simply, “It is still necessary to manage the balance of the mortal worlds.”

“So it’s the management you enjoy.”

Azrael shook his head. “No, master; the balance.”

Gabriel paused, for a moment, unsure if this was the right decision. “I have a task for you, Azrael.”

Gabriel raised the letter, dropping it into Azrael’s waiting hand. Azrael opened it, scowled as he read, and then folded it. “Master?” He inquired.

“I want you to go in my stead, Azrael.”

Azrael frowned. Gabriel stepped closer to him, placing his hand on the young angel’s shoulders. “I fought this war at its beginning, when Yin and her followers were exiled. I served faithfully for more than two centuries before retiring…” Gabriel took a long, wistful look around the antechamber, “…to this place. But you….” He hesitated, knowing his next words would sting, “You are a skilled escort, Azrael, but we both know…you have not earned the right to be here yet.”

Azrael became tense beneath Gabriel’s grip, and the older angel was impressed at the condition Azrael kept his frame. Azrael was short, standing at only five and a half feet, but was sheer muscle. Before joining the legion, he was his town’s best fighter and among the fastest in all Heaven.

“Azrael,” Gabriel said soothingly, “It is time…time for you to leave, and take your place in this conflict. It is time for you to face him.”

As Azrael raised his head, Gabriel was only mildly surprised to see fear in the angel’s face. Gabriel smiled proudly. “I promise, young one; you are ready.”

After a moment, Azrael nodded, concealing the invitation in his oversized right sleeve, and stepping back. Gabriel lowered his hands, smiling to Azrael. “You will have a place among us,” Gabriel promised, “when you return.”

“I will return.” Azrael said in a somber fashion.

Looking to space above, Azrael crouched and bolted upward, taking flight. Gabriel watched as the light opened to accept him, and Azrael disappeared into it before it sealed. Gabriel was once again left alone, amongst the chants.

He brought himself to his knees, folding his hands on his legs, and bowing his head, and slowing his breathing. As he did, he prayed for the safe return of Azrael and an end to the war, daring to hope that somewhere, Yang’s slumbering father would somehow hear.