The Dark Angel's Fate

Her dark hair swayed in the ice-cold winds, her pale skin contrasting in the still, lifeless night. The moon illuminated the area, creating hues of black and blues while she traversed through the woodland region. She could hear the nocturnal animals scattering around on the ground and in the trees. Leaves occasionally hit her face, but they went mostly unnoticed. Getting the Earthly Realm wasn’t easy, especially for her, but the risks she took were worth it; anything was worth doing if it meant she could be with him again. He would be waiting for her by the creek like he always did; their time together was limited, but worth the risk. It was strictly forbidden for an angel of hell to love an angel from heaven; however, that only drew the two lovers closer. They couldn’t deny fate even if they wanted to.

The Dark-Angel once thought little of those who were among God’s court; those angels were nothing but suck ups and cowards or, so she was taught. Every time she had seen battles between her kind and the holy ones, she couldn’t deny that the holy angels fought valiantly and many of their victories were rightfully earned. It was in battle that she met him; he was acting in the stead of another and she first thought him to be arrogant and reckless as many holy angels seemed hesitant to act on his orders. But then some followed his commands and her group was nearly slayed within two minutes, forcing them to either surrender or face execution. Only she survived as she knew that her observations in the fight would be beneficial to the lords her kind served but, that small victory on her part was dampened by what he said before he let her go.

“If they weren’t so stubborn, they still would be alive,” he muttered to himself as he led her back to edge of the corrupted forest her group used as doorway to and from hell.

At the time, what he said had struck a nerve with her. Did he expect them to really just surrender and return back home like beaten dogs? They were at war, fatalities were a necessity to end it. She furious and demanded to know what he meant by that.

“Think ill of me all you want,” he told her with a soft, sad smile. “but I don’t quite enjoy killing fellow angels, evil or good. I would like us to be peace with one another.”

It took some years for her to understand what he meant and, when she did, she sought him out. It was from there they formed an unlikely friendship with one another which then formed into a romance that led them to where they were.

When she made it to the clearing, she found a pair of magnificent white wings spread out to their fullest length. Every angel, good or otherwise, had wings, what differed for everyone was the wingspan and color. Most were warriors, like her lover, and therefore their wings were longer and were usually a vibrant white. The Holy-Angel was proud of his wings; he liked to spread them out for anyone to see and he very much took great pleasure in showing them to her. It was why he always had them out when they would meet.

“Took you long enough,” he said with a gentle smile as he turned to face her. She was so enthralled by his wings, she failed to realize that he wasn’t even facing her. “I was about to go find you.”

The Dark-Angel smiled lovingly at her lover; his concern toward her made her caged heart throb which cause a sensation that she could not comprehend. She knew pain (all angels of darkness knew pain), but this was something foreign to her. Her lover, when she had described the sensation to him, laughed and called it love. She knew what love was in a sense, it was considered taboo amongst her fellow comrades, so she had never felt it before. Feeling it was different than just knowing what it was; it was both exhilarating and horrifying.

“They’ve been getting suspicious, I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep before coming here.” her voice was enchanting and melodic, sweet and soothing. Though a descendant of evil, her voice was to be admired by all, even the heavenly souls. It was a surprise that darkness could birth something as charming as herself.

He wrapped his strong arms around her petite form, pressing her against his body though he kept his grip loose. The Dark-Angel looked up and saw a sad smile upon his face; his sadness worried her, and she feared what he might say. If she could urge him not to speak, she would. However, heavenly angels could not lie to those who needed to hear the truth and he would never lie to her.

“Perhaps we’ve not been careful enough.” His voice, though so tender and loving, pierced her heart and soul.

The Dark-Angel, though she could not deny the truth in those word, shook her head and forced herself to look away from her lover. The angels of heaven were of no concern; though their love was against the laws of heaven, it was real, and God would not punish them so harshly for it. But in hell, the rules were so vastly different. If they knew of her affair, then the worst punishment would be inflicted upon herself and her lover. The crime of loving the enemy was bad enough; add on infidelity against a Lord’s heir and the situation was become life or death. Her actions against the promise, which was sealed in blood, did not bother her, it was only the consequences that chilled her soul.

“I wouldn’t hesitate to tear off these wings for you,” he whispered into her ear, a gasp escaped her as he spoke. “but would you tear yours off for me?”

The Dark-Angel stared up at her lover, shocked that he would say such a thing. Tear off their wings? That meant they would forfeit their status as angelic beings and become mortal. Only a handful of angels have done that, even less survived the procedure, but in way, the two of them were different. She was one of the strongest angels that Hell had ever seen, and he was one of the strongest from Heaven, they might be able to survive it. But even then, how could he think of doing that? Even for love?

Those wings were more than a symbol of their status, they represented everything they was as angels. To tear away that identity...

The Dark-Angel glanced back at her wings; they were comparably smaller than his and the opposite in color. Her wings where like Raven’s wings, shiny and tinted bluish-purple when under certain kinds of light. Ironically, she had never quite used them for flight as she never needed them for that purpose. Now that the option to remove them was presented to her, she realized that she wasn’t that attached to them as she initially thought.

“Of course.” she whispered; her wings closed behind her as if to make them disappear without ripping them off. “Of course, I’d remove them if that meant we can be together, but does it mean that?”

The Holy Angel considered this thought; he didn’t see why they’d be torn apart with their wings gone but quickly rationalized her concern as an irrational fear. “I believe that it does, and we will only be judged by God or a representative. No one else will be able to do so.”

This did not ease her worries as he had hoped, but she committed herself to his plan, nonetheless. He believed, so she would too. To show her commitment, she embraced him and vowed that she would stay by his side no matter what happened. He returned her promise with his own; never would he abandon her, even if his own life would be spared.

Unfortunately, their tender moment was cut short as the suddenly realized that something was wrong. The ice-cold breeze that had been biting at their flesh ceased, spontaneously stopping without ever dying down. The air was still cold, but they now saw that it was cold enough for them to see their breaths. The animals were also silent, there just the slightest sound of a struggle but that quickly stopped.

They knew what was happening.

A dark figure approached the forbidden couple from the shadows of the woods; the two angels held their ground as they remained their embrace while the shadows morphed into similar figures. The figure who spoke then partially appeared beneath the moonlight; he was tall, lanky, pale, and bore ruby eyes that glittered menacingly in the darkness. His smile seemed lazy, out of place, and yet knowing; he had known of this affair for some time it seemed.

“My lord…” The Dark-Angel clutched the tunic that covered her lover, his arms tightened around her in a protective gesture. “How...?”

“I waited for you to leave,” he replied casually, as if he was disinterested in the whole affair. He did not step into the moonlight as he spoke, he didn’t need to move. He made no gesture that appeared threatening, but they instinctively knew that the shadows that now surrounded them had their orders. They already knew when to strike. “I would have thought that was obvious, little raven. Besides, this…thing of yours has been going on for some time, hasn’t it?”

Tears slipped from her dark eyes; she knew what was going to happen, there was no way for them to escape together. Her lover felt a sense of defeat and his jaw clenched; he pulled her closer in a feeble attempt to make the bitterness go away.

“Punishment must be fulfilled before your execution.” His Lordship declared; again, he sounded neutral about this rather than expressing any fury or disgust. “Take them both.”

The Dark-Angel found herself being held up by blood-rusted chains, she knew where she was and only wondered how long she had been there. Last she remembered was the blurry vision of the loyal underlings forcing herself and her lover apart and then nothing.

She moved her head but froze when an indescribable pain shot through her spine. Her body was now registering the pain and she could feel that her wings where being forcibly spread by sharp hooks. The cold metal was unbearable against her skin; the rust discolored her skin, the sharpness of the edge dug into her and left scratches and small cuts. While her arms and wings were held up, her lower half was firmly pinned to the ground by a bar, preventing her from moving them. Tears leaked from her eyes as she heard the screams of other prisoners. Death was heavy in the air.

Her mind wandered to her lover, where was he being kept? Was he still alive? Or were one of those blood-curdling screams his? She could only wonder until someone came to collect her.

It felt as though a mortal’s lifetime had passed before a Prison-Keeper finally arrived. Prison-Keepers were a type of a beast that had some semblance to mortal men as the bodies and souls of forsaken humans were used to create them.

For this one, he resembled mutilated monster more than a human. There was human flesh that cover his muscles, though the flesh was held together by stitches and he had patches of inflamed burns and gashes decorating most of it. He stood well over six feet with wide shoulders that made his head seem disproportionate to the rest of his body. The smell of decomposing flesh followed him and anyone who stood in his presence felt pathetically small. He swung open the barred door and entered the small cell.

“Move it!” his thunderous voice boomed through the prison. The other cells, which were once loud, were silent.

The shackles that bound her were released and her aching arms fell to the floor. Her legs, which had gone dead under her weight, struggled to response. Even with her weak attempts, it was amazing she could still move this much. Her limbs felt as if they were hanging on by a thread; she feared that should she move the wrong way they would snap off.

“Move along now!” he growled when she stumbled and nearly fell back onto the stone ground.

His voice sent a wave of adrenaline through her and she moved quickly to where the Prison-keeper could hold her by the base of her wings. His grip was crushingly firm; she dared not move unless he moved. A soft whimper escaped her lips, her bitter tears flowed like an unstoppable river down her sickly pale cheeks.

She was pushed toward the large doors that led into his Lordship’s personal court; it was beyond these doors that she would be meet her end.

The doors opened, and the thunderous voice called to the spectators. “Announcing the arrival of the traitor.”

She was shoved forward, toward the center of the circular room where all who were devoted to the seventh Lord were to witness the execution. The room was lit by torches, however there wasn’t an absolute need for light as residents of hell could see better in darkness. The light provided was meant more to disorient the prisoners who spent their time secluded in the dark prison.

With the light, however, everyone could see that she was noticeable paler than normal and that discoloration around her wrists almost appeared to them as burn marks. Her long hair was no longer full and silky, but oily and disheveled. If she had not been looking down at the floor, they would have seen that her eyes now had determination and sadness within them. If this is her fate, then so be it; she’d see it through until the very end.

“Holding up better than I thought you would, but then again you were one of my favorites for a reason.” His Lordship spoke in tone of amusement smothered with malice.

She didn’t dare look up at him; he was mocking her and if she dared to look at him it would be seen as her begging to be spared. She would endure the torment.

“Bring the chains, I’ve waited long enough for this.” With a snap of his fingers, the servants below brought forth all the instruments that would be used on her.

Looking to her right, she couldn’t quite see what was on the carts, but she could see a large contraption that had thick rope, sharp hooks, and chains dangling from all sides. Its main frame was made of metal, steel from what she could see as it was polished and capable of reflecting the fire’s light. Some of the chains were a bright yellowish orange, having spent some time being heated in fire.

One of the servants grabbed the chains (the searing heat was of no concern to him) and begun wrapping two of the chains around the base of her black wings. She hissed and bit back a scream, her head shot up and her eyes closed in a feeble attempt to will away the pain. He then proceeded clasp the chains so they would lock together; there would only be one way these chains were coming off her.

A guard stood beside a large wheel that controlled the device; he was to slowly pull her wings up and out of her back while the chains would infect the growing wound with unimaginable pain. This was his Lordship’s favorite torture with a small twist; these chains were infested with spikes that grew longer and sharper with each scream she made.

As the guard pulled turned the wheel, she screamed; the spikes grew and grew, biting into the bones that connected her wings to her back. Her blood sizzled on the chains, creating boiling liquid that burned her even more when small droplets rolled back onto her. She screamed and screamed; her mind went blank and all she could do was feel the slow, agonizing separation of skin, muscle, and tissue.

His Lordship flicked his wrist toward the guard, giving the command that they’ve waiting for. It took only a few turns of the wheel, jerking with all his strength; her wings were ripped off leaving only two broken bones sticking out of her back where the small black wings were. Blood splattered everywhere around the angel.

Her breath ragged, blood-stained tears fell without grace. A wretched sob croaked from her throat, her lungs begged for the sweet outdoor air that she used to share with her lover.

“Your suffering does not end here, child,” The mocking tone of his voice had barely registered in her weak mind, her thoughts were incoherent. “Now, you must watch your lover suffer.”

A snap of his fingers and the holy angel, dragged by his wrists, entered the room. He was covered in his own blood, his beautiful white wings gone while the bone they were connected to was exposed. She had looked up and saw that he too was barely able to comprehend anything past the pain. He looked toward her, recognition and the horror as he saw her wings dangling above her. They swung around so innocently, like a dangling toy or a hanged body.

“I shall have your wings mounted above my throne as a trophy.” His Lordship whispered into her ear, a choked sob escaped her. She didn’t think that he’d come down from his throne to get a closer look at them. She had hoped that he wouldn’t.

He straightened himself up and walked toward the other angel, taking the time to fix his shirt so that the sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. Once he reached his prey, he forced the Holy-Angel to look up at him and carefully assessed the damage. The angel glared hatefully into the eyes of the Lord, but that only amused the Lord.

“Hello, old friend. Never thought I’d see that day you’d end up down here. Then again, I never expected one of God’s soldiers fall in love with a demon. I thought seduction was trait only given to my kind. I guess you’re not so pure after all.”

“I committed no sin,” the holy one coughed, “She came to me willingly and I did not refuse her.”

“Lies!” His Lordship spat; the façade of an elegant and composed demon broke and his Lordship showed his true colors. “Your holy aura tricked her! No fallen angel in their right mind would love a holy one like you. It was those like you who threw us down here!”

“You were once a part of God’s family!” The weak angel hissed, “Do not forget that! If one of us can feel love, then every angel can as well. She knew not what love was when she came to me, but she knows it now. She knows of the love your kind deprived her of, and she learnt it through me.”

“An illusion is what she learned of.”

“An emotion which can bring happiness to her life! A feeling that caused her to see things, see the world differently!” The angel growled, his voice grew stronger as he spoke. His words reached her muddled mind and she watched as he boldly declared their love before her former comrades. “I love her! Born from darkness but touched with a sense of beauty I had never seen before. Though evil is in her nature, so was kindness and passion! She does not belong amongst you! I would have sacrificed everything to make her mortal, to follow her down to the Earth and live as a mortal beside her!”

“To become mortal, become human!?” His Lordship, despite his sardonic laughter, was mortified that the angel would want to join the humans just to love a hellish angel. “To join God’s grand mistake? I scoff at the notion!”

“Scoff all you want, my love for her stands true. I shan’t give up on her.”

His Lordship exchanged a heated glare with the angel before stomping his foot into the other’s face. The force of the attack threw the angel’s head back at an odd angle; there was a crack and the angel groaned loudly. The sight of her lover being attack involuntarily caused the Dark-Angel to scramble and frantically reach for him. A nearby guard reached her and held her down; the force of his weight pressed against her weak body forced out another cry. Her lover, despite his own agony, had found some strength and tried to reach her as well. She knew better than to beg for his life, but her heart made the request clear through her eyes. His Lordship, upon hearing her scream and the collective gasps of the spectators, turned and saw the female angel in a sickeningly pitiful state.

“S-Stop!” She hardly recognized her own voice as she pleaded for his Lordship to cease their suffering. “Please stop!”

The holy angel had been telling the truth; she was in love with him.

The sounds of her melodic voice crying for mercy was the last nail in the coffin. His Lordship extended his left arm, using his dark magic to conjure a scythe from the palm of his hand. It took a moment for the magic to morph and solidify but once it was ready, he took it in his hand swung it around in a nearly playful manner. He then took the tip of the blade and set it against the bottom of Holy-Angel’s spine.

There was a moment of hesitation; almost as if he was considering the consequences of killing one of God’s angels. However, his expression morphed into one of twisted manic delight. With one swift jerk, he plunged it into the holy one’s spine, dragging it up until it split his head open. She screamed loudly as she witnessed her lover’s murder. The disfigured corpse fell to the ground; there was blood everywhere.

If she could fight, only if her limbs could feel some rush of adrenaline so that she could reach the mess that was her precious lover. Alas, the newly ruined angel, the freshly cursed human, could not move her limbs and only could watch. Her traumatized screeches and sobs startled the witnesses and the Lord as well; who knew such sounds could exist.

However, no one could dwell on that as a sudden outburst of vibrant light flooded the room and the holy ones invaded. They were led by the Archangel Michael, who came before the Lord with his sword unsheathed and pointed at the demon’s throat.

“You’ve violated the terms of peace,” Michael stated, his tone was hard, and his eyes darkened slightly. “I’ve come on God’s orders and you will obey unless you wish to cease your existence.”

His Lordship growled in response but made no objections. Or, rather, if he had any, he was smart enough to not voice them.

“I and my fellow angels will retreat if you give us the corpse of my fallen friend and the Dark Angel. She, of course, will leave just as she is now.”

His Lordship wanted to lunge at the archangel, wanted to fight back and refuse; it was obvious just from the look on His Lordship’s face and she knew that he wouldn’t dare fight Michael. Because, for all of his sadistic nature and cruelty, he was the most cowardly of the nine lords. He knew he could not match Michael’s strength and he had no choice but to submit to the terms.

“We will leave,” Michael said as he slowly pulled away from the Lord, “and none of you shall touch this woman again.”

The angels who accompanied Michael gathered the remains of their fallen comrade while one freed the Dark Angel from her shackles and lifted her weak form onto their back. They were gentle enough with her, which was more than she was expecting.

“No…” The Dark Angel didn’t recognize the voice, but she was too weak to look. All she could remember hearing was Michael reprimand whoever tried to defy his orders. She wondered later if Michael had killed that demon, but she never asked about it.

Many years passed since that fateful night, seven years to be exact. The lovely Dark Angel was no longer the powerful being she once was, but now a mere human with only her unnaturally colored eyes and deep scars to hint at her past existence.

“Mama!”

The Dark Angel looked toward the small blonde girl who approached her with arms open wide. Emerald green eyes stared up at her, sparkling with childish glee.

“Mama! Mama! Hug!” The girl tried to jump into her mother’s lap but was stopped as her mother reached down to pick her up. She squealed as she was brought into her mother’s warm embrace.

The Dark Angel hid her tender smile by pressing her lips against the girl’s forehead. This precious child, the wonderfully cursed girl that she brought into the world was the only piece of her lover she had now. She didn’t why God decided to give her this baby girl, but now the child existed, and she was assured by Michael that the father was her departed lover.

“She was made from his blood,” he had told her when she discovered her pregnancy. “She’ll be more angel than human, but she’s still your child.”

Yes, little Eveline was her child. If only she could be an ordinary child.