Israfel's Fall
folder
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,013
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,013
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue
In addition to the usual disclaimers and such, this one is copyrighted through the government. I own it, it's mine.
***
“Israfel, dost thou seek to tell me that thou canst carry out thy duties?”
“No, my Lord. I am able to carry out my duties. Yet I shall not do so.”
“What reasons have thee for this treachery?!”
“I can no longer bear the blood on my hands. My soul cries in mourning each and every time I must slay one of them.”
“Thou hast no soul, Israfel. Thou wast created to serve me. Thou art but an empty vessel.”
“I have seen the empty vessels that walk the Earth and the shadow realms. I am not as they are,” Israfel said, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“If thou dost insist. Then thou shalt no longer serve me?”
“I shall serve thee in whatever thy desire is aside from one. I will no longer kill.”
“Killing is thy purpose, Israfel. Thou art a winged messenger of death. It is what thou must do.”
Without pause or another word, Israfel reached behind his left shoulder blade and ripped off his wing. The pain shooting through him nearly sent him to his knees but he reached behind his other shoulder and tore the opposite wing free, clenching his teeth against the scream that had risen. Gasping hard at the pain he stood to his full height and faced his master and dropped the broken and bloodied wings at his feet.
“No more,” Israfel said before turning his back on him.
And so it came to pass, that the angel Israfel was not so much cast from heaven but jumped.
***
“Israfel, dost thou seek to tell me that thou canst carry out thy duties?”
“No, my Lord. I am able to carry out my duties. Yet I shall not do so.”
“What reasons have thee for this treachery?!”
“I can no longer bear the blood on my hands. My soul cries in mourning each and every time I must slay one of them.”
“Thou hast no soul, Israfel. Thou wast created to serve me. Thou art but an empty vessel.”
“I have seen the empty vessels that walk the Earth and the shadow realms. I am not as they are,” Israfel said, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“If thou dost insist. Then thou shalt no longer serve me?”
“I shall serve thee in whatever thy desire is aside from one. I will no longer kill.”
“Killing is thy purpose, Israfel. Thou art a winged messenger of death. It is what thou must do.”
Without pause or another word, Israfel reached behind his left shoulder blade and ripped off his wing. The pain shooting through him nearly sent him to his knees but he reached behind his other shoulder and tore the opposite wing free, clenching his teeth against the scream that had risen. Gasping hard at the pain he stood to his full height and faced his master and dropped the broken and bloodied wings at his feet.
“No more,” Israfel said before turning his back on him.
And so it came to pass, that the angel Israfel was not so much cast from heaven but jumped.