Death In Heaven

I've been waiting for you, Angel Riktor.

The Angels and their Archangel lords stood watch over the mortals of earth from the beginning of time itself. Extraordinary mortal men and women were granted immortality and the sacred duty of eternal service to the light. The agents of the light were to lock their blades with the enemies of humanity, both mortal and immortal, protecting the helpless citizens and servants of the light that inhabited earth below.

In the Arch Heavens, hundreds of miles above the mortals of earth, the sun shone eternally on a golden city. The warm winds bristled through flawless gardens which flourished unnaturally, given life by holy magics. Golden and silver spires shot through the clouds into the divine stars above, to where even the angels did not dare venture. The spotless creamy cobblestone walkways bustled with the immaculate citizens of the city in the clouds. But even in heaven, perfection came at a cost.

"I have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen entire extinctions. I have seen genocides. I have served Heaven for an eternity. I was a mortal granted the wings of an angel. I was a mortal granted a sword of Heaven. I was a protector. But now I regret it all. I now only wish for death." Angel Riktor said to the High Council of Heaven, his white cloak flailing in the warm winds of the sanctuary.

He stood in the middle of a circular room, the precious golden metals of heaven glinted in the ever lasting sunlight of the domain. Around him sat eight council members, all Archangels of different blessings. They all wore silver-white hoods, and were only permitted to remove them when speaking. Tistrell, the Angel of Knowledge stood from her golden throne and removed her hood, revealing a pristine face, long blonde hair and fiery white eyes.

"What makes you wish for death, Angel Riktor? You have served heaven well for eons." She said with an echoing, inhuman voice. She stood and glared, awaiting an answer.

"You tell me, Angel of Knowledge." Riktor growled angrily at the angel, bearing his teeth, his blood shot eyes filling with hate.

"What you have seen haunts you, Riktor. But we have all seen what you have." She said calmly, pulling her silver hood over her head and sitting back onto her glorious throne.

"But you have not done what I have done!" Riktor yelled, twisting, so that he made sure to glare at all the Archangels as he said it. "You have not been a part of the bloodshed, you merely sit and watch!"

The Angel of Honor now stood. He was taller than the rest, clad in golden platemail with glowing white runes, he removed his hood and spread his feathery wings. From beneath his hood came another pristine face, with a hairless head and the same fiery eyes as Tristrell.

"You served for honor, you served for heaven, and you must continue to serve. We have watched you grow to become a great servant of the light. I did not want to tell you this so soon, but I believe the time is right. You were to become the ninth member of our council. You were to become the Archangel of Loyalty." He said as he clasped his hood and pulled the cover over his face once more, his wings folding while he sat.

"You do not hear me! I am haunted! I am nearly undone!" Riktor screamed, his strained voice ricocheting across the golden hall. The eight Archangels sat still. Riktor could imagine their fiery eyes staring at him with contempt. It was obvious his words would not be heard.

The Angel of Judgement stood, also clad in runic armor, and removed his hood, exposing short silver hair and a groomed silver beard. He raised his plated hand and slammed a glowing gavel onto the stand in front of him, causing a booming sound and quick flash of light.

"Your request is denied Angel Riktor, we will see to it that you will receive adequate treatment from our spirit healers. You my friend, have many eons of service ahead of you. And we will need you fit for this service." And with that, the eight members of the council faded with white flashes, leaving Riktor alone in the empty chamber.

Riktor let out an echoing scream and began to breath heavily. I have served thousands of years, I will have my final rest, even if it means I must knock on the gates of Hell. He turned and headed for the large arching entrance of the chamber, his body shaking. His silver ringmail seemed to rattle with every shaking step he took. His wings were folded as close to his body as they could get. He walked under the magnificently crafted archway and looked across the endless walkways of heaven, they seemed to span forever through the white clouds. The walkways linking tall towers and rounded buildings, all clad in white and gold. The sun shone brightly, but Riktor felt no warmth.

He slowly turned to the edge of the walkway and peered down onto Earth, he could barely make out a greenish blue land mass through the clouds. If they will not grant me death, then I will not grant them my service. He thought as he withdrew his glowing white sword from his belt. In two swift motions, Riktor grabbed his white feathery wings and sheared them cleaning with his holy glowing sword. He thought he would scream out in pain, but he was silent. And then he jumped.

As the world he had guarded for so long raced toward him, the horizon faded, the greens and blues darkened into dark browns, and then into total darkness. It was nighttime in the mortal realm, and a starless blackness had fallen on its people. Riktor closed his eyes, hoping to let the darkness envelope him one last time.

From far below the figure in the black robes watched the burning white meteor break through the darkened grey clouds and fall from the sky. Though he looked like a man, beneath the pale skin a red fire burned and a grotesque form waited to be exposed. He smiled an ugly yellow grin.

I've been waiting for you, Angel Riktor.