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Therakiel's Herald (Fiction)

kaosarcannakaosarcanna Posts: 124 Arc User
edited May 2013 in Fan Base Alpha
And it came to pass that Therakiel the Halfway Angel, Therakiel the Banished, wandered the streets of Vibora Bay on a hot sultry night. Around him, on the streets, the alleys, and the buildings about him, humans laughed and cried, loved and hated, lived and died as they had done in all the countless years of his exile. It was the heartbeat of the city, his city, his creation.

Soon ... soon it would beat no more.

There had been a time when Therakiel had been renowned for his compassion, for his kindness. The Angel that he had been would have been appalled by his plans and the deeds he had done in order to accomplish them. His earlier self would recoil in horror from the things that he had done, the things he would do in the future.

That Angel no longer existed.

That Angel was yet another casualty in the war between Heaven and Hell. That Angel perished when he was cast out of Heaven and denied by Hell. That Angel ceased to be when his grief, his pleas for mercy, went unanswered by the Word.

He no longer sought a return to Heaven. He would no longer be satisfied by acceptance in Hell. No, now he wanted more ... now he wanted the Throne for himself.

Now he would make his own Heaven.

That his Throne could only be earned with the destruction of the world that had been his prison for millennia was ... regrettable.

More or less.

He could feel the time of his victory coming closer. Nearly all of his pieces were ready to go into play. His allies--such as they were--were already at work. His servants were growing stronger with the power he had given them. The numbers of his Nephilim had grown--no match for the Hosts of Heaven or Hell, but he knew full well that whichever force won the Final War would be so diminished that they would find his Nephilim formidable indeed.

And yet, he was not ready.

Something was missing.

A scream suddenly shattered the silence of the night.

Therakiel had heard many such cries over the numberless years of his exile. He had long since ceased to be amazed at the human capacity for violence, for evil. Humans slaughtered each other with such relish that he often thought their sudden extinction was the greatest gift he could give them.

And then, seconds after the scream, a human child, a girl, ran into him.

"Help me! Please!" She grabbed his hand desperately.

In all the centuries that he had lived among them, Therakiel had done his best to avoid physical contact with mankind. Humans were dirty, carnal, desperate creatures, little better than the foulest of the beings in the Lightbringer?s pit. Ephemeral, brief candles?the greatest among were little more than spark of light.

And yet ... and yet when he felt the girl's hands clutch at him he felt ? something.

There was power in the girl. Little more than an ember, but he could feel the potential she had for magic.

"Give her to me, mortal! She is mine!"

A vampire. One of Dracul's Immortals that had come with him to Vibora Bay to honor the alliance they had made with Therakiel.

If the girl had not been touched with magic, he would have struck her down himself for touching him. But as she was ... "Get behind me, child."

"Do you know what I am, mortal? Do you think you can stand between me and my rightful prey?"

If he possessed a sense of humor, Therakiel would have smiled.

"Do you know what I am, vampire?"

"Look into my eyes, mortal! Look and see the power of the ancient dark!"

Therakiel met his gaze. "I was ancient when the dark was young, fool."

The vampire's eyes began to smoke. He covered them with his hands and shrieked in agony. "What are you?!"

"Tonight? Your death." And Therakiel drew forth his Great and Terrible Sword and let the illusion of mortality drop from him. His blazing wings of light--the wings he had created for himself after Heaven had taken his first ones-- spread wide and the light set the vampire aflame.

The vampire had time for one more scream before Therakiel's Sword proved his vaunted immortality for the lie that it was and he became the dust he should have been so long ago.

And Therakiel rested the point of his blade upon the ground and turned to look at the girl.

She was still a child, but he could see that it would not be much longer before she became a woman?and though he did not consider himself a judge of such things, he believed she would become a beautiful one. "Are you an angel?" she asked him.

"I was, once."

She was dirty, scrawny, her clothing ragged and torn. She looked desperately hungry. "I dreamed about you. I came here looking for you."

"Indeed?"


"Yes." She looked away.

"Take my hand, child."

"What?"

"Take my hand." He sheathed his Sword.

The girl trembled, but she took his hand.

And Therakiel did something he seldom did. Something he had never done with a mortal.

He flew.

He flew towards his Church.

And he watched the girl.

The fear was gone from her face. Instead, there was exultation. Exultation and ... greed.

And then he knew why the girl had dreamed of him. He knew why she had come in search of him. He knew who she was, who she was going to be.

He landed on the roof of the Church and took the girl by her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

Unlike the vampire, her eyes did not smoke, she did not scream. Her eyes began to glow, and a startled gasp escaped her lips, but she did not seek to look away. She clutched his hands desperately, but she did not try to look away.

And Therakiel smiled at what he saw in the girl's eyes.

"I am Therakiel, the Halfway Angel, and I stand between Heaven and Hell. Serve me, and I will give you the power you have dreamed of, and more. What is your name, child?"

"Valerie. Valerie Hartwig."

"No longer." Therakiel bent down and pressed his lips to the girl's forehead. "Now you are my Valerian Scarlet. You will be my eyes and hands in the world of mankind. You shall grow strong in my service, and you will use your beauty and cunning to turn the strength of those who oppose me to my cause. By my mark on your brow all those who serve me know that you are under my protection and there is no place in this city you will not be safe. Who are you, child?"

She touched her forehead and smiled up at him. "I'm Valerian Scarlet, and I serve the Halfway Angel."

And so it was Therakiel finally found his Herald ...
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