1 Chapter 1 - A Lost Hope

Temple of Hope-Heaven-1942

She gazes through the window and ponders the thought a little longer. The sun begins to creep along the night sky, bringing about a fresh dawn. She turns to a walled mirror and gazes upon her long, silky white hair. The stray strands of sunlight reach out to her as if they yearn for her youth and beauty. She sighs heavily as if she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

I suppose a council meeting is in order.

She calls for a maid and orders her to sound the bells. A maid with beautiful black hair salutes, then walks away, closing the chamber doors behind her.

The woman's gaze begins to wander again. She turns back to the window to see the last bit of darkness fade into memory. Don Don Don Don. Dun Don Dun Don. Echoing bells can be heard from outside. A somber sound to all who'd hear. Her chamber doors creep open again, releasing a whining howl from inside. The maid with the beautiful hair calmly walks in as if she wasn't hassled by the noise.

"Miss Hope I've done as you asked… And if I may, what's so important that you must call upon the council so early?" The woman questions cautiously as if testing how much she could ask.

Hope stares ever so more at the rising sun as if the answers were etched into each ray. Hope let out another sigh before looking toward the maid and standing up.

"Demons Mary, Demons." Hope replies as if asking the question herself.

A deep and cold chill runs up the maid's spine. Demons... The scourge of the land. An endless plague. It must be something big to have caught her mistress's attention.The maid turns back to Hope, shedding her robe, revealing two large silver wings underneath. She spreads them out as if to stretch them, and begins walking over to a I well worn oak stand. A set of brilliantly crafted set of beaten silver armor rested on top as if it didn't belong. She lifts up the helm as if it were as light as a feather. Her fingertips run along the beaten piece of equipment; her muscles tensing along every dent, break and scratch. Each holding a memory of a different battle. A different mistake. Her blood runs cold. The helm clatters to the floor rolling at her feet. She reaches down to see a blade erupting from her chest. Her blood shone gold as if the sun were crying at the sight.

"I. I see..." The words barely stumble off of her lips, each syllable a fight in itself. She can feel her energy waning as if the wretched blade in her were eating it away every second. "I... Knew. Knew you'd come for me."

Hope looks over her shoulder past a cloaked figure, to see Mary's lifeless body lying in sea of crimson. Her hair is clotted, stuck and plastered about her head. The figure turns away and quietly disappears out of the room as if he hadn't existed. Hope reaches out for the blade in her chest and falls to her knees. A silent thud, almost unhearable cries through the room. She turns once again to the sun now high in the horizon.

This? This is how it ends, huh? Millions of battles yet I die to my own? Such a shame. I wonder. Michael? Will you be able to lead them as I have? Keep peace as I have? Carry hope. As I have?

She looks over at her lifeless maid once more, before her last breath echoes away in the history of time. Her still body collapses backwards, twisting in inhuman ways. Her cold still eyes no longer glimmer in the sunlight. Instead, a dark hopelessness takes refuge as her gaze takes in the world for the last time.

Council of The Divine-Heaven-1942

The Council sat there in a large room with walls standing tall look as if they are monoliths challenging the skies above. Various tapestries and paintings scattering the walls here and there each portraying different images and stories. Battles and wars are brought to life through vivid art and colors, saying we're here and alive. Large glorious windows line the walls, letting in various golden yellow colors of sunlight down below. Far under the windows and paintings, bickering and yelling can be heard. A large snow white table lies below the towering walls surrounded by men and women. Seven thrones circle the table each in different forms and colors. Upon a large black throne, decorated with swords and shields, sits a large gallant man dressed in large black ironclad armor. The armor witch had seen finer days was riddled in dents and scars. Unlike other objects in the room, instead of brilliantly reflecting the light, it seems as if his armour absorbs the light around it leaving an ominous air about the man.

"We cannot simply abandon the rest of the world to Hell. What have we been fighting for, for the past millennia?" The black warrior slams his fist down angrily challenging his brethren.

"Michael calm down, there is no need for conflict." A short boyish kid dressed in almost glowing colorful robes raises his hand to the dark knight. "We must wait for Archangel Hope. She will have the answers that we seek." His gaze turns from serious to gleeful and he ushers a smile to Michael.

"I know Cupid, but you cannot honestly agree with Archangel Gabriel, can you?" A man wearing silver armor with scattered etchings quickly turns to Michael. A soft rustling and grinding as armor shifts from side to side can be heard through the room. The group turns to the man.

"He is right, as much as i hate it we must protect Heaven. If we fall who else would be able to stand up to Hell?" A solemn old man dressed in gold garments lifts his head, stroking his long silver beard.

"Thank you Judah, at least someone has come to their senses." The silver warrior shoots a stone cold glare toward Michael. "Peter, your thoughts on the matter?"

A middle aged man turns towards the group. He sits upon a throne of trees; their roots twisting at the feet. As he pulls back his hood, but a beggars cloth, he gloomfuly says. "I'm sorry Michael. They're right, you can't win a war when all your troops are scattered about the world. We must think about the long run Michael. So what if we save a few kingdoms here and there, they'll all fall in due time. We'd only be delaying the inevitable."

A frown begins to creep along Michael's face. He is clearly outnumbered four to one. He turns to a woman wearing thin steel armor, almost resembling that of norse. He can see her stare deepen as if she were staring at the secrets of space itself.

"Samuel. Your opinion please." Michael gestures to the woman.

The group turns to her as if her answer was that of life and death.

One simple word left her mouth before she gets up from her throne and walks away. "Earth."

The rest of the group looked at each other with no words to say. Michael lifting his head smiles eagerly. "She's right, if we gifted humans with our power, they'd be more than enough to stop this."

"You can't be serious? Michael that's insane! You are aware that it requires the death of the one gifting that power?"

The group turns to Michael with looks of concern and even disgust. Michael refuses to falter or break underneath the overwhelming pressure.

"Does no one else stand with me or Samuel? If so then speak now. If not then I must bid you farewell for now my friends."

The group stares in awe as the black knight picks up his massive helm and walks away. Gabriel shoots up from his marble throne.

"Michael get back here! This is suicide! Son of a bitch!" Screams Gabriel from his throne.

Cupid arises from his draped throne and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Gabriel. I hate to add more heat to the moment but have you noticed that Hope is yet to arrive? She is the one who called this meeting no? Don't you think its bit odd for her not to show?"

Gabriel turns to Cupid, staring at him concerningly. "Peter would you send two of our guards to check on Hope? Be sure you don't disturb her though."

"I will check up on her personally Gabriel, I find her leave of absence to be quiet unsettling." Peter pats Gabriel on the back before taking his leave.

Two bright orange wings looking soft to the touch sprout from the man's back before he take off into the air.

Gabriel turns to Judah whom is still sitting upon his golden throne, the old man still stroking his beard looks to Gabriel. "We have made the right choice Gabriel."

"It doesn't feel that way. If you two will excuse me i must also take my leave." The man turns and walks away.

Cupid faces the glowing table again, picks up Gabriel's winged helmet, waves to Judah and hurries after the angry man.

Sitting at the table alone, Judah looks over at Hope's silky white throne. He can't help but muster a laugh before standing up from his throne and walking away, leaving her memory behind. "It seems, my dear friends that Hope, is lost."

Temple of Prosperity-Heaven-1942

A large temple stands before Michael. It has been years since he'd been to the Temple of Prosperity. Beautiful fountains line the outside of the temple, sending water high in the sky, and a thin mist in the air. He can feel the cool water hitting his face, almost a refreshing feeling. The revitalizing water makes its way under his armor, leaving a fresh feeling over his body. The heavy black armor, which rejects all light, even glistens under the constant mist. He walks up the stairs to the massive open doorway, large cauldrons of fire sit on either side. The flames burn high and bright, as if unfazed by the constant mist from the fountains below. As he walks into the temple, guards spread their wings in salute to the divine angle. The light behind him begins to fade as Michael turns down a hallway. The distant sound of singing can be heard from the end of the hall. He reaches a large door, and rests his hands upon the intricate marble. With a hefty push the door begins to curve open. Inside is a sight he hasn't seen for years, a breathtaking sight to be sure. Quiet waterfalls and a small stream run into a large oasis glistening in the newly setting sun. The mix of reds and violets reflect on the crystal water, and the vibrant colors of the flowers create an other worldly feel. A heavy mist fills the air, soaking him to the bone, and the strong aroma from the flowers softens his mind.

"Michael… Here?" The mesmerising singing stops and is replaced by a soft voice instead.

"Hello Samuel. Are you sure this is what you want? There's no going back." Michael states firmly.

The woman stands tall out of the water, the cascading drops glowing on her naked body. Her figure, as beautiful as it is, riddles itself with scars. She spreads her wings, or what is left of them that is. Many of her feathers are missing and holes gape in their place. "Find… Again." She whispers under her breath. Michael smiles at her, a soft caring smile, as if no one else matters. He unbuckles the latches of his chestplate and shrugs it off. The loud sound of armor echoes through the room, the black-hulking monstrosity revels on the ground. He lifts off his helmet and drops it to the cold marble floor. It rolls to a stop in a pile of clover, its beaten scars welcoming the gentle care. He sheds his dark robe and reveals black tattoos covering his body up to his neck. His wings shoot out, horrifying things that were more from a nightmare than a dream. These were no feathers; they were blades each and every one. The wings sit high, black and cascading as if he were a demon. They rattle and grind, reacting to the new air they'd been starved of. Michael slowly walks into the water, its burning intensity hardly phasing him. Samuel reaches out her arms, as if to embrace Michael. Michael pulls her in and folds his wings around her. Small cuts form along her back and legs, as his razor sharps wings gently press against her soft skin.

She quietly says almost to herself. "Love…" Michael looks down into her eyes, his large black wings blocking out all the light. Yet her eyes sill shone a neon green.

"Samuel… Do you remember my promise to you all those years ago?" Michael asks her.

Her grasp on him tightens as she buries her face into his shoulder. They can feel the burning intensity of each other's bodies, as she digs her nails into his back.

"Protect… Me."

His wings rattle and rumple, as if blades were being scraped together in an endless battle.

"That's right Sam. I will find you again, and protect you as I always have."

She reveals her face from his shoulder and locks her lips with his. "Know..." She smiles at him and pulls him in again. No matter what, Michael will find me and protect me as he always has. He decided long ago, that he won't make the same mistake twice.

Wasteland-Pandemonium-Unrecorded Time

Heaven and Hell, two opposing forces that have been at war since the dawn of time. A fight so long and brutal that even Earth has been affected in one way or another. The Wasteland, a place that has been permanently scarred from an endless war... "Michael! We need your support on the western front! Samuel's army has been routed and requires reinforcements!" Gabriel shouted over to Michael, thrusting his spear into a demons skull, making its black blood run down his weapon.

"YES SIR!" He called back, severing the torso of another demon, sending a fray of black ooze across the ground. Michael soared into the air, the sun barely glistened against his golden wings and armor. He thrusted his sword into the air, sending a large flame through the sky. As if all at once a group of angels dressed identically to Michael flew up to his side. "Archangel Samuel's army has been routed, it's our job to hold the west until reinforcements arrive."

"SIR YES SIR" A honorable cry rallied through the men and women.

It didn't take too long until the smell of burnt flesh and death singed his nose. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Strown about him were the mangled, torn bodies of fallen angels soaking the ground in thick red blood. Alone atop a mass of corpses kneeled Samuel. Her armor was gone, and her body soaked in black and gold blood. The once proud wings on her back, now stained black and gold and filled with holes, draped by her sides. She had multiple swords and spears stabbed through her body and chest, leaving a pool of gold beneath her.

"You four look for any survivors, you go report the situation to Archangel Gabriel." Michael shouted, fear and sorrow choked each word. Michael rushed to her side being wary of the weapons, and her tattered wings. "Archangel Samuel! Samuel, stay with me now. Look at me!" He gently lifted her head up,a blade ran through her neck, she locked eyes with him. With what remaining strength she had left she lifted her arm up and pointed to something in the distance.

One word fell from her gold drenched lips: "Death."

Her head dropped low but her raspy breathing assured Michael she was alive. Michael turned around to see a hooded figure on top a horse. Michael's thoughts began to run wild.

How did i not notice him? Wait… "FALL BA-" His sentence was cut short by the deafening squeal of the horse. In a movement so swift he could barely even keep up, the horseman sliced one of his angels clean in half. The others were soon to follow, and before he knew it the horseman was right in front of him.

"Who are you?" He shouted.

The horseman laughed a crackling, bone curdling laugh at Michael's question. "Me? Why I'm Death. And you… You're HighGuard  Michael. And that there..." He gestured toward Samuel. "That was Archangel Samuel."

Gabriel's blood ran cold. So the Horsemen have decided to intervene. Death turned his giant scythe around, the gold and red blood soaked blade reflecting in the sunlight. Michael's back began to burn uncontrollably. He looked back to see his golden wings lying on the ground, twitching in agony. Tears welled up in his eyes, he wanted to scream, to cry out for help. He could feel blood choking up in his throat. He glanced over at Samuel, her body still as a rock. His gaze turned back to Death. Hate and pain filled his mind and soul. This demon would pay, no matter what. Without thinking, Michael charged the horseman, and he was met with a spear in the chest. Michael dropped to the ground; his body was weak, and his eyes became heavy.

The horseman dismounted and walked up to Michael. "Disgraceful! It took seven spears and two swords to put her down, but you? One mere spear and the HighGuard Michael, Destroyer of Demons, drops like a rock." He flicked his scythe across Michaels throat, sending a shower of gold across the ground. He could no longer breathe; every word he tried to say was just a choke of blood. Death knelt down next to him, grasping his face and turning it to Samuel. "Look. Look at her! You couldn't save her. Hell, you can't save yourself."

He's right. I couldn't save Archangel Samuel, and i can't save myself. I'm a failure of a guard. "But you're lucky, you worthless piece of shit.

"But fortunately for you I've become bored of Hell. See, I can't inhabit her, she's an Archangel. But you… you're not. Yet you bleed gold. You're something that they aren't... NEPHALEM!" he unleashed a horrifying laugh that shook Michael to the core. He picked up Michael's sword and handed it to him. "Come on, show me your worthy. KILL ME! Come on!" He grabbed his face and turned to it Samuel again. "Don't you wanna… Protect her? Save her?"

Come on, what is this? He wants me to kill him? But Archangel Samuel… I have to protect her no matter what, that's my job. COME ON! Just thrust the sword! Kill Him! KILL THE FUCKER!

"So disappointing. Sha-" As Death was mid-sentence Michael trust his sword into the demons skull

"Fucker." The only word Michael could muster through his severed throat.

Suddenly Michael's body felt like it was on fire. The hooded figure before him turned into a thick black smoke. It spun around Michael, wrapping around him like a rope. His skin began to melt all over, and was replaced instead by black tattoos. His back erupted into a flurry of flames and blood, and two large pitch black wings grew out. The massive wings held razor sharp blades instead feathers all scraping and grinding against each other, in a eerie gut wrenching sound. The horse charged at Michael, turning into a smoke and covering his newly found body in thick grotesque black armor. Michael's sword began to morph and change as his body did, into a long black scythe. Michael stood up, ripping out the spear. The hole in his chest quickly healed along with his gaping throat. He stumbled over to Samuel, who still barely clinged on to life.  

"Give her your blood Nephalem. Save her and claim her life as your own..."

Fuck. You're in my head now? And what do you mean claim her life as my own?...

"You're Death now. Get it? And every incarnation of Death gets a servant. The horse has been mine for a millennia. Save her, and claim her life as your own… "

Kneeling in front of Archangel Samuel, he ripped out one of his feathers; it was far sharper than any blade he had held before. He ran the blade carefully over his palm, releasing a thick gold substance from the open wound.

"Careful Nephalem, after today you both will become mortal again. Tread carefully."

He tilted the woman's head back and trickled the blood down her throat. One by one he pulled out the weapons, each ripping apart her insides and leaving a heart sinking sound. He wrapped his fingers around the last blade which ran through her neck. With a quick jerk the rigid weapon came out, pulling and twisting her throat along its way. The light in her eyes had disappeared completely now and he began to doubt himself. The gaping holes on her body began to heal, leaving behind gnarly, rough scars. She closed her eyes and reopened them.

"You're alive.' He said with a half smile.

Slowly, as if a flame had be reignited inside her, the light began to return to her neon eyes. She looked over at Michael, his large dark wings and armor resembling not an angel, but rather a demon instead. Fear and horror overwhelmed her body, she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. He grabbed her shoulders to calm her down, and pulled her into an embrace.

He breaks the tension momentarily and whispers to her, "Samuel I swear from today onward I'll protect you."

She looked up at him and mumbled one word. "Protect?"

Temple of Prosperity-Heaven-1942

The moon shines down through the misted room, creating a relaxing cool aroma about him. Their hot breath clings to air, forming a feeling of ecstasy. Michael turns his head to see Samuel resting on his chest. A peaceful happiness rests over her face. He runs his fingers through her long golden hair, watching as it glows in the moonlight. She runs her fingers across his feathers, her touch sends ripples through the razors. The wings seemed to have a mind of their own like they knew she was laying there, and should make her as comfortable as possible. She continues to glide her fingers over the calmed feathers, putting them into a trance like state.

"You know you're the only person that can actually touch them?" Michael exclaims softly.

She stops momentarily then goes back to stroking the black wings. "Know… Love." She stutters out.

The wings vibrate for a few seconds reacting to what she had said, then mellow out again as she strokes them. He runs his hand along her body tracing the deep gashes and scars.  

His gaze shifts to the gnarled and twisted wings underneath Samuel. "Do you miss flying into battle?"

She looks over at him, locking her eyes with his, as if to say why ask me that? "No… Have… You." Her short sentences may not mean much to the other Angels but to him each word was a full story with a deeper meaning to it.

He slides his hand underneath her, and rolls her on top of himself. He can feel the warmth of her breasts, pressing against him, and the heat of her breath grabbing onto his lips. Her wings lax from the sudden movement resting at his side, their soft, graceful feathers grazing his arms. He raises his arm to stroke her feathers as she did him, but she pulls them back from him. A sorrowful gaze falls upon her face replacing the carefree look she carried before. She relaxes her wings again, the snow like feathers pressing against his skin. He slides his hands around the the feathers ruffling them from their usual feeling.

Is he sure about this? I can hear the concern in his voice, as hard as he tries to hide it. He has protected me forever and now we will be separated. I hope we find each other on earth. "Promise… Find." Samuel's words flutter through the air.

She stares into his eyes looking for reassurance, but is met with worry instead. She leans in to kiss him their lips lock like chains. She reaches down, her nails skitting across his battle hardened body, until she reaches his shaft. A playful grin runs across her face as she slithers down, licking him on her way. He can feel the warmth of her tongue running across his body. This is a feeling he hasn't felt in years. Michael's mind runs blank as her tongue wraps around him. He lets out a heavy breath, the warmth and heat of her mouth driving him crazy. His wings begin to vibrate, filling the air with a soft hum. Michael runs his fingers through her golden hair, stroking her head gently. She crawls back up to him, but only momentarily. Samuel sits up and directs his shaft into her. Her war-torn wings shoot into the air. Her soft moans drown out the creeks and waterfalls. She rocks her body back and forth. Her hot breath begins to quicken turning into hungry panting. The large black wings flap, causing a strong gust of wind. Michael launches them both into a wall with a loud thud. Samuel digs her nails into Michael's neck and back, sending thin trickles of gold to the marble floor. Her panting turns into rasping as Michael's thrusts increase in strength and speed. The marble she's pinned against begins to crack under the force. Pieces of chipped marble fall to floor adding to the noise of the room. He can feel her fiery hot breath against his body. The crack in the wall becomes a dent, as if a god had punched it. The slight hum of the blades turns to a heavy rattling. In almost perfect harmony their wings shoot out. The last of the thrusts and the most powerful of them, sends pieces of marble scattering across the ground. They slide to the ground, their breath ragged and rough. The pair of wings fold down by their sides. Samuel rests her head against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat, quick and loud. Michael rolls his hand over her head. Her hair is no longer straight, but ruffled and messy. He lifts her head up with his finger and leans in for a kiss. She gleefully meets his lips with hers, still out of breath. She pulls away and stares into his blood red eyes.

Samuel mutters under her breath, "Again..."

"Are you sure? I'm not sure if you or the temple can handle anymore." Michael's witty comment is met with a dead stare.

"Yes…" She digs her nails into his neck, sending a trail of blood to his shoulders.

"I see… No sleep for the wicked huh?" His words turn her stare into a smile.

Samuel struggles to muster a laugh. Michael is taken back by the soft quiet noise. It seems that it will be a long night.

Michael wakes to a bright sun shining through the opening in the temple roof.

He sits up and looks around. "Wow."

The columns and walls lay shattered and broken. Chunks and pieces of marble scatter the once peaceful room. Flower beds and clover patches are trampled to dirt. The scene before him is almost unrecognizable. Michael looks down at his side. There lay Samuel, her body covered in streaks of gold, either his or hers. He strokes her face gently. She rolls over to him, her eyes half open.

"Awake?" She grins at him.

"Good morning Sam," Michael smiles back.

He stands up, sliding on his robe. Samuel quickly follows lead.

A faint knock echos from the massive door. "Miss Samuel? Are you okay? I heard this morning that there were strange sounds coming from the temple last night. I couldn't find you in your bed. Are you there Miss Samuel?"

Samuel walks up to the marble door, letting in the maid. The maid takes a step into the room and stops herself. She gazes about the room, taking in the destruction. Her eyes stop on Michael. The maid glances from Michael to Samuel.

Her face begins to blush as she stutters. "Umm. H-Hello M-Master Michael." She bows her head and quickly turns out of the room.

Samuel shuts the door behind the maid. The young woman lets out a small laugh. "Caught…"

She picks up her armor, strapping it into place. She looks around for her helmet but is unable to find it.

"I heard that the vikings of earth took after your armor, after witnessing your power in battle against the demons. Samuel, Valkyrie of Heaven." Michael's comment draws Samuel's attention.

There he stands, holding her helmet. He gazes intently at the helm. From the sides erupted two demon horns, taken from fallen lords. Samuel rushes to grab the helmet, snatching it from his hands. She places it upon her head, turning away from her lover.

"Dark… Knight." She says to him before walking to the door.

Michael twists on his gnarled helmet and follows behind her.

Divine Council-Heaven-1942

The two walked into the council room side by side. They sat at their thrones, briefly making eye contact. Michael stares around the table. His gaze stops at Archangel Hope's throne. There's no way she'd miss a meeting two days in a row.

What's going on here? Michael glances back at Samuel; her face showed similar concern.

Peter stands from his throne with a sorrowful look on his face. "Sorry to have called you all here again. But I believe this is a serious matter… Archangel Hope and her maid have been assassinated."

The air of the room turns sour at the the words.

Gabriel shoots up, "What do you mean? Demons can't get into Heaven. It's impossible."

"This wasn't the work of demons" Peter chirps back.

"Angel…" Samuel says as her face turns worrisome and fearful. She looks around the room as if one of them had done it.

Judah scoffs at the her comment. "Don't be preposterous woman! What angel in their right mind would kill one of their leaders?"

Cupid looks up from the table. "What if she's right? Archangel Gabriel did say that demons can't get into heaven. It would have to be the work of a traitor."

Judah's face crinkles as he slams his hand down onto his throne. "We haven't had a traitor in Heaven since… Her." His gaze runs over to Michael. "Because of her we've had to intervene on Earth multiple times. And because of her we lost our only way of getting to other planets." He exclaims as his stare forms into a glare.

Michael looks around the group. Standing up he turns to go to the door. "We're still continuing as planned. Let's go Samuel."

Samuel stands from her throne and follows behind Michael.

Gabriel overwhelmed with anger, yells to them. "What do you mean as planned? Did you not just hear? Archangel Hope was just killed. And now you want to stretch even thinner? Are you fucking stupid? You never should have became an Archangel. Your a disgrace of an Angel. Hope is the only reason you became a Archangel. But are you even grateful? She dies and you decide to abandon your brothers and sisters."

Michael stops in his tracks. A black mist begins to form around his hand. The mist hardens, taking the shape of a nasty twisted scythe. The razor sharp wings on his back try to come out from underneath the armor. The wretched sound of metal twisting and breaking silences the room. His massive black wings, double their normal size, shadow the table.

He turns around, his eyes a burning fire flickering through the slits of the helmet. "What the fuck did you just say?"

The blades grind against each other vigorously sending sparks through the air.

Gabriel takes a step back. "So this is why you stopped flying so long ago. You wished to hide your true wretched form from us. For all we know you're the one who killed Archangel Hope. You filthy half breed demon!"

Before Michael can lunge towards Gabriel's throat, something stops him. He looks to his side. Samuel is holding onto his arm. She looks into his helm, staring into his fiery eyes.

"Please. No more death." Her soft voice echoes in his ears.

She begins to sing a song, soft as her feathers, and smooth as a river. "War and death, oh how they ring in my head. Wishing I were with the one I love. Wishing I'd no longer have to fight."

The fire in his eyes begin to fade, leaving a faint red glow.

"Oh why must I leave? Oh why must I die?"

The giant wings fold in, leaving behind two sick twisted holes in his armor. The scythe fades into a black mist, dissipating into the air. Michael's body feels light as Samuel wraps the song to a close.

"Let's… Go." She whispers to Michael.

Judah cries behind them, "What are you?"

Michael smiles under his helm at the question. "The Angel of Death."

Judah drops into his seat. "So that's why Archangel Hope wanted you to become an Archangel. Unbelievable."

The two continue out the door, leaving the room in complete silence.

Gabriel looks at the other three sitting at the table. "Did any of you know?"

They all shake their heads, still trying to comprehend the situation before them.

Peter stands up from his throne. "We mustn't let this distract us. We need to prepare our people. Our goal is to hold out as long as possible. I'll take over Michael's army, Cupid take Samuel's." Cupid stands up and nods in agreement.

The two turn for the door and walk away, leaving Judah and Gabriel alone. Judah begins to laugh.

Gabriel turns to him. "What's so funny?"

Judah turns to Gabriel, "Sorry. Just makes you wonder though. How many secrets did Archangel Hope hide from us?" The old man stands from his seat of gold. Stroking his beard, he turns for the exit. "Makes you think huh? Maybe the assassin knew something we don't."

He leaves the room, abandoning Gabriel in a world of questions. When did he become the Angel of Death? Wait… The battle we thought he lost his wings… It can't be. Did he kill Death? Archangel Hope said he lost his wings fending off the demons from Archangel Samuel. This doesn't add up. We're missing something here. Archangel Judah was right: what other secrets did you take to your grave?

Gabriel rises from his throne. He pulls out a sword of flame, and turns to the black throne.

I should've known he was corrupted.

With one swing of his sword he shatters the wretched black throne to pieces. Shards of black glass go flying across the room. The weapons and shields that sat upon the seat melted underneath the heat, leaving a molten pile of metal.

"Don't expect your place in Heaven to be here if you return." His dark gaze shifts to a marble throne brimmed with flowers.

He lunges his sword into the marble, splitting it into pieces. The heat of the sword ignites the flowers and incinerates them to ash.

"We've no more room for traitors." He mutters under his breath as he sheaths his sword, its flames licking at his armor.

Turning away he walks out the door. Behind him lay the destroyed remains of Michael and Samuel's thrones.