The Angel

PROLOGUE

Azriel’s cries rang through the hollow walls of the cave. He was shuddering, his breaths coming out in hitches as the last course of electricity left his body. His torturer, standing just meters away from him, was grinning from ear to ear. He seems to be enjoying himself. In fact, he was proud of his work.

It wasn’t everyday that the heaven sends an angel down to the depths of hell to receive punishments like these. It was after all common knowledge that they’re favored by God. So, for him to be standing in front of an angel, glowing rods in hand, it was marking an overturn in history. It just never ceased to excite him no matter how many times he’s done it over the course of a decade.

He brought the rods together and felt the pulse of energy crackle in between them. He licked his razor sharp teeth, his eyes glinting. “Want more, angel?” he taunted, eyeing his captive.

The corner of Azriel’s lips twisted. He snarled. “Bring it on, you infernal reject.”

The demon laughed at the insult, knowing full well that his words could no longer harm him.

If it had been the Azriel from ten years ago, he might’ve shuddered at the thought of standing in front of him. He was, so to speak, the Almighty’s latest creation. He’s well loved, adored by many, and had the glowing beauty of an ethereal being. It was even said that the mere sight of him could make demons go blind. After all, his wings are not ordinary. They were a silvery gold.

Now—they were still the same color—but they hung limply behind him, covered in grime and muck. What was once a great being was now reduced to nothing but a weak, mortal-like creature who had lost his former glory. He sat on the ground in front of him, his hands and neck held up by chains, his body covered in nothing but a thin fabric, and his face… oh, his face. He was still handsome. But he was exhausted. He’s no longer the perfect angel that everyone claims he is.

He’s a sinner. A fallen. An ungodly sight.

“I’ll carve sin into your flesh,” the demon hissed as he came closer with the electric rod.

“You’d need more skill than that.”

“Careful. I like my prey cocky.”

“Well, that’s just gay.”

The demon wasn’t even fazed. He simply cackled and had the rod that he’s been holding brought up to his face. He watched with satisfaction as the sparks of electricity mimicked the glint in his eyes.

Even with nearly a decade of torture, the angel was still beautiful. But never mind that now. It’s all going to tire out soon enough and he’ll be unrecognizable.

“You have a smart mouth,” he whispered to his ear. “I’ll enjoy shutting it.”

Azriel mustered his remaining strength to chuckle at his words. “Since you like shutting mouths so much, why don’t we start with yours? I’m already tortured as it is, I don’t want to have to smell you, too.”

The demon drove the crackling rod into Azriel’s throat. Sparks leapt as his body convulsed, his veins pulsating with searing light. Watching him slowly become weak and defenseless was always a delight. But there was nothing more delicious than the look of agony on his face.

He pulled the rod back, his eyes never leaving the angel. “How was it?”

Azriel tasted blood in his mouth. He spat. “You could do better.”

The demon scoffed. “Always acting tough, are we? Makes you think if a century will be enough to make you crack.”

The angel clenched his jaw tight, the chains rattling around him. Of course, the demon didn’t miss the subtle shift in his expression.

“What? Scared you’d be stuck down here with me for a hundred years?” He lowered his face to level it with his, the smile on his lips cruel. “You’re one hell of a proud angel, aren’t you? You’ve already fallen and everything but you still think you’re above everybody else.”

Azriel smiled through gritted teeth. “That’s because I am. Better than you, at least.”

The demon straightened, towering over his slumped figure, and walked back to the iron table where the rest of his torture tools were.

He’s been playing this game for over ten years. He’d saunter in, ridicule his way into his rage, torture him a bit, and then leave. But every time, he’s never won in their banters. In fact, most of the time, he’s the one that ends up pissed off beyond his wits.

There’s just no winning with these angels. Unless…

“Of course,” he whispered underneath his breath and stared at the black wooden box at one corner of the table.

Azriel followed his gaze. He gulped.

The demon reached for the box, popped it open, and beamed. The flaming sword immediately illuminated the dim cave.

Azriel shifted in his place, his eyes never leaving the sword that was now in the hands of his torturer. One swipe from that thing could leave permanent marks on the skin of a supernatural being. The rest of his wounds are easy to heal but with those things? Might as well just give up.

“Get that thing away from me,” he made the mistake of saying out loud and hauled himself onto his knees, the chains at his wrists pulled taut.

The demon smiled malignantly. “Which part of you should I go for first? I heard you’re rather proud of your face.”

Terror split across Azriel, his eyes wide. He yanked against the chains until the walls of the cave shook with each pull. “Get me out of here!” he demanded, his voice like thunder.

A flash of worry crossed the demon’s face but it didn’t stop him from getting any closer. “You really love that gorgeous mug, don’t you?”

“I said,” he reiterated, his face contorting in fury, his lips curled. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

The cavern shuddered, dust spilling like ash from the ceiling. The demon’s grip faltered on the sword as his voice thundered throughout the chamber, echoing with unbridled fury. He looked at Azriel and gulped. His silver eyes were flashing, currents of electricity sparking from within.

If he gets any angrier than this, he would probably explode and destroy hell along with it.

“I. SAID.” He started again.

But before either of them could say anything else, the huge metallic doors behind the demon swung open. A sudden burst of light came through.

“Ah,” the figure said as he stepped into the room.

Neither Azriel nor the demon could make out who it was. There was too much light. The demon felt like melting and Azriel felt like his eyes were assaulted.

“Hello, Azriel.”

The door swung shut and the angel looked up. It was Gabriel.

Azriel gritted his teeth, his temper no longer near exploding. “What do you want?”

Gabriel just smiled at him. “Little brother,” he started, looking around the room. “I came here for you.” His eyes landed on the demon.

The demon dropped the sword and ran.

Gabriel didn’t pay his skittering away any mind and smiled at the glowering angel in front of him. “God sent me, of course.”

“Is he finally going to free me?”

The archangel just chuckled. “Heavens, no. But he is sort of offering you a deal.”

Azriel lifted up his face, his eyes studying Gabriel. “A deal?”

“Yes.”

“What deal?”

Gabriel smiled, his silver hair waving gently around him despite the lack of air in the room. “The deal is if you’re still interested in going back to heaven, then you must come to Earth.”

“Earth?!” Azriel stood up, ignoring the ache he felt in every inch of his body. “What on bloody hell am I even going to do on Earth? And Earth, really?”

Gabriel nodded as a response, his eyes landing on the golden wings hanging loosely behind Azriel. “What a waste,” he muttered and then smiled again. “Anyway, are you interested or should I send the demon back?”

“Wait, wait. The deal… what kind of deal is it?”

“Nothing to worry about. It’s simple.”

“Yeah? But why the Earth?”

“Because you were sent down here for your mistake on Earth.”

Azriel’s face twisted, his eyebrows knitted together. “What mistake?!”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, Azriel. You’ve been given a decade to remember. Do you need more time in here because I’d be happy to leave—”

“No, wait!” He pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes shifting. Then, as though giving up, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll do whatever the Almighty asked.”

“Oh, he wasn’t asking. He was commanding you to do it.”

“Then, I’ll do it. But I swear to you, whatever mistake it is that you think I did? I didn’t mean to do it.”

Gabriel scrunched his nose up. “That it wasn’t your fault?”

“Yes.”

The archangel laughed at this and held his hand up. The flaming sword tore from the ground, its metal shrieking as it hurtled itself into his grip. Gabriel raised it high and in one solid motion, he cut all of the chains binding Azriel.

Azriel, missing what it felt like to freely move his body, smiled at the sight of the melted chains. But as he was about to thank Gabriel, the archangel loomed above him and with the flaming sword, severed his wings.

Azriel’s scream split the cavern. His head snapped back, veins straining in his throat, the sound clawing its way out of him in relentless waves.

He was brought to his knees once again.

Gabriel didn’t even flinch. “You’re fallen now, Azriel. Do what it takes to earn your wings back.”