With a catastrophic collision, the world shook. With a chilling crack of lightning, it was done.
Mount Hermon. The dusty plane which housed the mountain of the world was sprinkled in craters. Deep crevasses freckled the unforgiving rock which stretched for miles. As if some relenting force was using it as target practice.
They were. Their choice of weapon? Angels. Feathered, bitter souls who had turned sour whilst basking in paradise. Each regal creature had their own story which lead them to their temporary defeat against their creator. But Azazel? Hers shook the Heaven’s the most.
Like a bird who had been mauled by a cat, Azazel’s quivering, naked body laid crippled in the pan which she had hollowed out. The earth sizzled; embers flickering at the edge of the basin as she hit the earth like a meteorite. Wingspan tattered and broken, her skin was blistered, bruised and bloodied. She was far from home now. Far from the safety and security of the divine abyss where she originated from, the dirty blonde’s glowing electric eyes slowly peered out from her burnt eyelids. As if she was in a trance, she laid still for a moment. A mental block was apparent.
Pain slowly began to riddle her body. Like venom which poisoned her veins. This world was cold. Vicious. The heavens had clouded over, evening slowly falling. Condense and swelling, the rains soon came. Each drop was gentle on her skin’ disintegrating into her raised hair follicles as her vulnerable frame began to drench. Washing away the blood as well as encouraging it from her more concerning wounds, Azazel slowly sat herself up. She was emotionless. She held nothing in her eyes. No love. But no hate. Her mind was empty. Her wings heavily following behind her as she moved. Slowly and painfully, the angel stumbled to her feet from her foetal position. She let her azure eyes fall on this new world which she had been banished to. Her body felt heavy. The air was thin and the oxygen felt like shards of glass which were cutting her lungs inside as she inhaled deeply. The scent of burning flesh and singed hair was apparent; obvious on her dirty, pale skin. Her blonde had dulled. Her radiance had been torn from the youngest.
Scared. Alone. Azazel slowly took a step forward; wincing in pain as she did so. Her toes brushed in the hoarse dirt as she dragged her feet. She was so lightweight in heaven. Every movement was fluid and elegant. But now; she felt jagged. As if she her ankles had a ball and chain. Or as if someone was applying pressure to her shoulders to hold her firmly down. An invisible embrace of banishment. Everything seemed so straining on her small frame.
His beautiful face was the last she remembered gazing at.
His voice was the last she remembered. Panic began to bleed into her. Her bloodshot eyes began to widen, head jolting around as she began to stumble. Her body shook in pain and dismay.
“Camael? Gabriel? Raziel?! Raphael?!” Azazel’s voice began as nothing more than a mere whisper, but its volume continued to raise as she began to pace. Her movement had no fluidity. It was scarce and had no purpose. The air continued to scratch at her lungs, Azazel gritting her teeth together as she fought back the tears.
“No..” The young angel was scared and confused. Anxiety had sky rocketed as her nude physique darted around like a wildebeest who had just been captured and caged.
“Selaphiel! Azrael! Ur~”
Azazel stood dead. Tears had since left her swollen eyes as reality shrouded her. All of a sudden, that name was a bitter pill to swallow.