Come Hell

Come Hell

Prologue: To Kill The Devil

A long, dank hallway stretched ahead. An angelic guard saluted, and stood by to let the reaper pass. The counsel chamber badly needed a renovation. Moss and mold spread up the walls in a green lattice,and its smell permeated the stone. It would likely still smell, even if the various living organisms that had laid claim to the wall had been scraped away.

“Raphael.”

“Tartarus.”

The two angels acknowledged each other, and stood in silence for a moment. The hallway had let out into a wide antechamber, comprised of the same moldy stones. The smell of it all was deeply unappetizing. The reaper spoke.

“You should really consider moving the counsel chambers out of this… hole in the ground.” Raphael laughed shortly.

“The construction of the hall in the sky is nearly completed, as you well know. We merely wait for the finishing touches. Do you know why I called you here, Tartarus?” Something about that name felt… off. Maybe it was just that it was a tad old fashioned. The question was met by a shrug.

“As you know,” Raphael continued with a gesture that indicated they should walk, “Lucifera, queen of hell, has wrought great destruction on the earth over the past several hundred years. Famine, plague, and death rain down in abundance.” Raphael sighed, pausing before a great glass display cabinet. Within it, burned the flaming sword of Eden. The reaper sucked in a breath.

“The blade Glorious…” Its burning was enough to make one’s flesh prickle from a not inconsiderable distance away. “I am… aware of the situation.” A lick of the lips. Caution was needed, and a certain amount of discretion. Lucifera was a touchy subject.

“Michael, Gabriel and myself cannot move against her directly. But you, Tartarus…” Raphael paused, speaking almost delicately. “You may move against her.” He reached through the glass, and brought the flaming sword out, holding it with the blade to the ceiling. “Take it, Tartarus.” The handle of the weapon did not feel hot, but so cold that frost spread along the hand that held it. The reaper winced and lowered the blade, giving it a few experimental swings. It sang through the air.

“This is the edict of heaven,” said Raphael as he began to glow, “in order to preserve the natural order, Lucifera must be…” he blew away in a shower of lights, which scattered and dissipated across the room, but his last word hung in the air.

“Slain.”

<><><><><>

Bright golden fire rained down the cliffs of hell. The blade Glorious sank its glittering edge into another demon, cleaving it in two and rendering its body to dust. The rest of the crowd of demons, mostly amorphous blobs of arms teeth and flaming eyes, took a collective shuffle back, shying away from the golden flame that dripped from Glorious.

“I demand an audience with your queen.” The reaper’s voice was loud, commanding. The blade swung high for emphasis, and another shaft of flame bit into a demon and reduced it to ash.

“There’s no need to shout, angel,” said a soft voice, and the reaper whirled raising the sword defensively. Lucifera stood dressed in armor of white bone, holding her own sword. The demons clustered behind her like ducklings flocking to their mother, and she tilted her head sideways, narrowing her eyes. “There’s something odd about you, grim reaper, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.”

“Perhaps it’s because I’ve come to kill you.” Tighten grip on blade. Hands together. Feet apart. Lucifera laughed, an oddly beautiful sound that rang throughout the cavern and set the Reaper’s teeth on edge with its wrongness.

“No, I’m quite used to that, actually. Do you know how many angels were sent here before you, wielding that damnable sword? And how many I slew?” Lucifera’s eyes flashed with fire, and she lifted her own sword. The air around it warped, and a black mist hung around the blade. “This,” she said with clear satisfaction, “is the blade Despair. The sword with which I, alongside those pricks I used to call brothers, used together with glorious to imprison the titans and create the world as it is.” She raised it high, and swung it in a slow arc. It sang through the air, and a dull thunderclap followed its motions. The reaper felt a sense of unease, and the tight grip on Glorious slackened somewhat.

“These blades are equal and opposite, reaper. They cannot touch each other.” She flashed forwards then, so quickly that even the reaper had trouble following her movements and swung Despair for a killing blow. When Despair and Glorious met in the air, there was a hum and the reaper felt a jolt up to the shoulder. The blades hummed, their opposing forces holding them inches apart. The space between them crackled with power. Lucifera lowered her blade and laughed, taking a step back.

“You’re quicker than the others, reaper. And smarter. Not that it’ll do you any good.”

“If you knew I was coming,” said the reaper with narrowed gaze, “why not meet me at the gate and slay me then?” Lucifera laughed.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Your servants died to my blade.”

“They always do,” she shrugged, and to the reaper’s surprise sheathed her blade and sat herself upon a rock to inspect her fingernails. “I can create more servants but they make for poor conversational partners, no?”

Silence.

“And, what.” The reaper was slow, calculated. Glorious moved a little lower, guard relenting out of confusion. Lucifera smiled pleasantly.

“That’s the way.”

“And what,” was repeated more firmly, “you’re bored so you want me to stay here and… talk to you?”

“Essentially.” Lucifera shrugged. “I grow tired of demons, and humans make for dull conversation. Normally I’d kill you outright but you’re… troubled.” The reaper shifted uncomfortably.

“You trouble me.”

“That’s as may be,” she admitted with a laugh, “but you cannot hide your desires from me, angel. There is something… different about you.”

“Very well.” Without quite knowing why, glorious was back in its scabbard. “Let us talk.”

<><><><><>

“You have failed us, Tartarus.” The throne room of the archangels was a damn sight more impressive than the rest of the underground cove. High arches of polished wood supported a ceiling of semi transparent white stone, smoothed until it almost appeared to be glass. The floor was a mosaic of historical images, mainly angels fighting demons, surrounding a larger image of the seven archangels and Lucifera imprisoning the titans. The images ran up the left side of the wall, when the three angels that had remained after the battle, Michael Raphael and Gabriel, had cast Lucifera down to the underworld. On the right, the names of the Archangels who had perished in the great battle..

Ariel

Uriel

Raziel

Remiel

“She is too strong. She overpowered me, but allowed me to leave with my life to deliver a message to you. I am to be her… personal ambassador.” Raphael made an outraged, nonverbal scoffing sound and Michael stood up in his throne.

“Only a fool would- she can’t think to-”

“Enough.” Gabriel had spoken, as he rarely did, and the other two fell silent. “Brothers,” he continued after a moment, “we cannot dispose of her. We have been trying too long. A different tactic is needed here.” His liquid golden eyes were narrowed with thought.

“But the arrogance of-” Michael was fuming.

` “It is arrogant, yes.” Gabriel’s voice was all cunning. “And that arrogance will be her downfall.” He set his eyes on the reaper, who bowed obediently.

“Tartarus. You are to be our spy. We will give you a mark on your hand, so that the queen of hell cannot see into your mind.” The reaper gasped as the mark appeared, searing into the skin of one hand with a burst of golden flame, and then vanishing to all other eyes.

“Very well.” Michael still seemed peevish. “So it is.”