The
heavens trembled as the supreme deity, Elyon, summoned the angelic host to his
throne room. The air was thick with anticipation as the angels gathered, their
ethereal forms radiating an aura of reverence.
"My
children," Elyon's voice boomed, echoing off the celestial walls. "A
threat stirs in the mortal realm, one that imperils the delicate balance of
existence. Chaos will soon run rampant, and it is our duty to prevent it."
Kaliab,
a fierce and ambitious angel, stepped forward. "Let me deal with the
mortal father," he urged, his voice laced with eagerness. "I can kill
him before he runs wild."
But
before Kaliab could continue, Elyon's gaze fell upon him, and the angel's words
were cut short. "SILENCE!!" The supreme deity's voice was like
thunder, shaking the very foundations of heaven.
The
angels cowered, their wings folding in submission. Elyon's eyes burned with an
inner fire as he continued, "This matter is mine. I will fly down to the
human world and deal with this myself. You will stand down and await my
return."
The
angels nodded in unison, their faces set with determination. They would obey
the supreme deity's command, no matter the danger that lay ahead. For in the
heavens, Elyon's word was law, and his will was absolute.
Sariel
stood silently among the angelic host, his eyes fixed on the supreme deity as
Elyon issued his commands. But as the meeting adjourned and the angels
dispersed, Sariel's thoughts turned to his own agenda. He had his own reasons
for wanting to intervene in the mortal's life, reasons that Elyon would not
approve of.
Without
hesitation, Sariel spread his wings and descended to the mortal realm. He
landed on the roof of a blacksmith's shop, his eyes scanning the streets below.
He spotted Isaac, the mortal in question, kissing his wife goodbye before
heading out to the warehouse.
"Bring
some sardines on your way back," Hannah called out, her voice sweet and
melodious.
"And
olive oil too, my love," she added, her words accompanied by a playful
smile.
Isaac
grunted in response, chuckling as he replied, "Agh man... will do,
honey."
As
Isaac departed, Sariel's gaze followed him before shifting to Hannah, who was
still standing in the doorway. A plan began to form in his mind, one that would
manipulate the mortal's life and set him on a path of destruction.
Sariel
phased in and appeared in front of Hannah, his sudden presence causing her to
gasp in shock. "Oh my God!!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear
as she stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth.
Hannah's
eyes widened in shock as she gazed upon the angel standing before her. Sariel's
wings glowed with an ethereal light, their feathers shimmering like diamonds.
His silver hair cascaded down his back like a river of moonlight, and his
muscular physique seemed chiseled from granite. The sword at his side pulsed
with a golden glow, radiating an aura of power and authority.
"The
human realm is in danger," Sariel declared, his voice firm and commanding.
"The human you touched lips with poses as a great threat to this world.
You must eliminate him."
Hannah's
mind reeled as she stared at Sariel, her thoughts struggling to comprehend the
angel's words. "What?" she stammered, her voice barely above a
whisper. "My husband is no threat," she protested, her eyes flashing
with defiance.
Sariel's
expression turned cold, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Hannah.
"Fool!" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He reached out and
placed his finger on Hannah's forehead, and suddenly, visions flooded her mind.
Hannah
saw glimpses of a future ravaged by destruction, of cities burning and people
screaming. She saw Isaac, his eyes blazing with power, his hands stained with
blood. The visions were disjointed and fragmented, but one thing was clear:
Isaac was the catalyst for this apocalypse.
Sariel's
prophecy was not of Isaac's true nature, but rather a manipulation of the
future, one that would convince Hannah of the mortal's supposed threat. The
angel's finger remained on Hannah's forehead, guiding her through the visions,
ensuring she saw only what Sariel wanted her to see.
As
the visions faded, Hannah stumbled backward, her eyes brimming with tears.
"It's... can't be," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
"My Isaac would never..." She trailed off, her words lost in a sob as
she collapsed to the ground, her world shattered by the angel's revelation.
In
the visions, Hannah saw Isaac's face, his eyes cold and distant, as he
committed atrocities beyond her comprehension. She saw herself among the
victims, her life slipping away at Isaac's hands. The image seared itself into
her mind, leaving her shaken. And then, she saw something that made her heart
skip a beat - a glimpse of herself, pregnant with a child.
"You
are with child," Sariel's voice echoed in her mind, "and for that
child to grow big into a shining star, eliminate its father."
Hannah's
eyes snapped back to the present, her gaze fixed on Sariel's departing form as
he glowed brighter and vanished into thin air. "Am pregnant!" she
whispered to herself, her mind reeling with the news. "But... but... oh my
God."
Before
she could process the revelation, Isaac walked into the room, a look of concern
etched on his face. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing Hannah's
stunned expression. "Are you okay, love?"
Hannah
stood frozen, her emotions in turmoil. But then, she snapped back to her
senses, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm fine," she said, trying
to sound casual. "Did you bring back the oil, too?"
Isaac's
face fell, and he palmed his face. "Ah, I forgot." He looked up at
Hannah, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, babe."
Hannah's
heart ached as she gazed at Isaac, her mind torn between her love for him and
the angel's words. She knew she had to act soon, but the thought of harming the
man she loved seemed impossible. Yet, the seed of doubt had been planted, and
it would only be a matter of time before it sprouted into something more
sinister.
Later
that day, Isaac was in his garage, his hands moving with practiced precision as
he sharpened his axe, crafted with his own hands. The sound of metal on stone
filled the air, a soothing rhythm that accompanied his focused movements.
Meanwhile,
in the kitchen, Hannah stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the window as she stared
out into the distance. Her mind was a jumble of emotions, the apocalyptic
vision Sariel had shown her still seared into her brain. She felt a chill run
down her spine as she whispered, "Can you hear me? You said you'd be
around."
In
her mind, she heard Sariel's voice, calm and detached. "What do you
need?"
Hannah's
panic spiked, her thoughts racing as she struggled to form words. She was
scared and panicking, her mind a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. Sariel's
voice came again, "I can do that."
Without
warning, Sariel took control of Hannah's body, his presence like a shadowy
puppet master. Hannah's hands moved of their own accord, reaching for a sharp
kitchen knife. She felt a sense of detachment, as if she was watching herself
from outside her body.
With
the knife clutched in her hand, Hannah's body moved stealthily towards Isaac,
the blade glinting in the light. Isaac, oblivious to the danger lurking behind
him, continued to sharpen his axe, lost in the rhythm of the task.
As
Hannah's body crept closer, the knife held tightly in her hand, it seemed as
though fate itself was conspiring against Isaac. The outcome hung precariously
in the balance, and it was unclear whether Hannah would be able to overcome the
influence of the angel's control.
Hannah's
body lunged forward, the knife flashing in the light as it pierced Isaac's
ribcage from behind. Isaac's eyes widened in shock and agony as he felt the
blade sink deep into his flesh. He stumbled forward, his strength waning as he
cried out in pain.
"Hannah!"
he gasped, his voice trembling with shock and betrayal. "What...
why..."
As
Isaac struggled to comprehend the attack, Hannah's eyes began to glitch, a
light golden glow flickering on and off. It was as if she was fighting for
control, her body seemingly possessed by an unseen force. Isaac's gaze locked
onto her eyes, and he knew instantly that his wife was not in control.
"I
don't want to do this anymore!" Hannah's voice screamed, her words laced
with desperation and anguish. But Sariel's grip on her body remained firm,
refusing to relinquish control.
With
a swift and deadly motion, Sariel used Hannah's body to grasp the newly
sharpened axe, its blade glinting with menace. Isaac, already weakened by the
knife wound, leaned against the table, his eyes pleading with Hannah.
"Hannah,
no!" he cried, his voice cracking with pain and despair. But it was too
late, the axe swung downwards, its trajectory seemingly inevitable.
Hannah
swung the axe with reckless abandon, her body moving with a ferocity that was
both terrifying and heartbreaking. Isaac, fueled by adrenaline and desperation,
dodged and weaved, his movements laboured due to the knife wound in his back.
He stumbled and fell, but managed to land a sweeper kick that sent Hannah
crashing to the floor.
As
Hannah struggled to get back to her feet, Isaac's eyes locked onto hers, filled
with a mix of pain, confusion, and pleading. "Hannah," he cried, his
voice cracking with emotion. "Why are... what's going on?"
For
a fleeting moment, Hannah's eyes cleared, and she fought for control. Her voice
barely above a whisper, she uttered, "The Angel... Sariel's using my
body."
In
a tragic turn of events, Hannah's hand grasped the axe, and with a swift
motion, she slit her own throat. Isaac's scream echoed through the room as he
watched in horror, "Hannah!! Nooooo!!"
As
Hannah lay on the floor, bleeding out, she tried to speak, but her voice was
barely audible. "I... I am..." Before she could finish, her eyes
gleamed gold, and Sariel's voice boomed from her dying body, "The Angel
made me..."
With
a final, chilling declaration, Sariel's presence asserted itself, "Your
wife was weak, Isaac." Hannah's body went limp, and her life slipped away.
Isaac's
world crumbled around him. He fell to the ground, his body shattered by the
physical and emotional pain. The lights faded, and everything went black.
Isaac's
eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the sterile whiteness of the hospital
ceiling. His brain felt foggy, but as the haze began to clear, his memories
came flooding back. He tried to sit up, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"Hannah!" he called out, his eyes scanning the room frantically.
The
nurse rushed in, her expression a mix of concern and compassion. "Calm
down, sir. You're in the hospital," she said, trying to soothe him.
Isaac's
eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense. "My wife!! Where is my
wife?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger and desperation. The
memories of Hannah's lifeless body on the floor came rushing back, and he felt
a wave of pain wash over him.
The
nurse tried to calm him down, her voice gentle. "Sir, please, calm down.
You're still recuperating. You'll hurt yourself."
But
Isaac was beyond consolation. "My wife!! I wanna see her," he
insisted, trying to get out of bed.
The
nurse's expression turned somber, and she delivered the devastating news.
"I'm sorry, but your wife was buried two weeks ago."
The
words hit Isaac like a sledgehammer, knocking him back onto the bed. He felt
like he'd been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out of him. The phrase
"buried two weeks ago" echoed in his mind, refusing to sink in.
Isaac's
eyes welled up with tears as he whispered, "Hannah..." The nurse's
apology was a distant murmur, lost in the sea of grief that engulfed him.
Isaac
was transferred to a ward with other patients, the sound of beeping machines
and murmured conversations filling the air. An old man lay in the bed next to
him, his eyes seeming to hold a deep wisdom.
Two
detectives arrived, their badges gleaming as they pulled up chairs beside
Isaac's bed. "So, Mr. Isaac," one of them began, "we've been
investigating the... incident with your wife. Can you tell us what
happened?"
Isaac
recounted the events, his voice laced with conviction. "My wife was
possessed by an angel named Sariel. He was trying to kill me."
The
detectives exchanged skeptical glances. "I see," one of them said,
his tone patronizing. "And you expect us to believe that an angel
possessed your wife?"
Isaac's
frustration simmered. "I'm telling you, it happened. Sariel was
real."
The
detectives nodded sympathetically. "We understand that you're still
grieving, Mr. Isaac. But we think the medication might be affecting your
perception. We'll come back later when you're feeling better."
As
they left, Isaac's memories of that fateful day came flooding back, bringing
with them a wave of anger and determination. His heart turned cold, and he knew
he had to avenge his wife's death.
The
old man next to him watched him with an unnerving intensity. "Son, I know
what you're about to do," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But
you'll need strength, strength beyond human capabilities."
Isaac
turned to the old man, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" he
asked.
The
old man's eyes seemed to bore into his soul. "Get an empty box of matches,
put a drop of your blood in it, find a crossroad, and bury it. Someone will
show up, and they'll have all the answers and help you need."
Isaac's
skepticism warred with desperation. Could this old man's words hold the key to
unlocking the truth about Sariel and avenging Hannah's death? He decided to
take a chance, unsure of what lay ahead.
Isaac's
eyes widened as the machines beeped louder, and the nurses rushed in to
surround the old man's bed. The curtains were drawn, and Isaac heard the
nurse's somber tone, "Time of death, 3:47 PM."
Isaac's
face contorted in anguish. "He can't die, I... no, he can't," he
whispered, feeling a sense of loss and regret.
But
the scene shifted abruptly, transporting us to the heavens. Elyon, the supreme
deity, was consumed by rage. He hurled Sariel across the room, slamming him to
the ground. The sound of flesh hitting stone echoed through the chamber as
Elyon beat Sariel mercilessly.
"Do
you know what you have done?!" Elyon thundered, his voice like a celestial
storm. "You broke the rules I made and took matters into your own
hands!"
Elyon's
anger was a palpable force, unleashing high-velocity energy beams that scorched
Sariel's form. The fallen angel tried to defend himself, but Elyon's wrath was
unrelenting.
"I
stopped the apocalypse—" Sariel began, but Elyon's grip on his throat cut
him off.
"You
created the apocalypse!" Elyon roared, his eyes blazing with fury. The
other angels cowered, trembling with fear. They had never seen Elyon so
enraged.
With
a final, contemptuous gesture, Elyon hurled Sariel backward. "Throw him
into the pit! I don't want to see him!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off
the celestial walls.
As
the guards dragged Sariel away, Elyon sat upon his throne, his expression
unyielding. "Michael, ready my sword," he commanded, his voice
dripping with a cold, calculated fury. The archangel Michael nodded, his eyes
gleaming with a mixture of reverence and trepidation.
Isaac
waited until the cover of midnight before slipping out of the hospital, the
darkness providing a sense of anonymity. He made his way to his house, the
police clearing tapes around the perimeter a stark reminder of the tragedy that
had unfolded. The words "No One Is Allowed In" seemed to mock him, as
if trying to keep him from his own memories.
As
he walked around the garage, the images of that fateful day came flooding back.
He saw Hannah's lifeless body on the floor, her eyes frozen in a permanent
stare. The anger and grief welled up inside him, and he grasped his axe, the
familiar weight of it a comforting presence. In a fit of rage, he swung the
axe, destroying his car in a frenzy of splintered wood and shattered glass.
Still
seething with anger, Isaac searched for a box of matches and emptied it. He
donned black clothes, the color of mourning and revenge, and set out towards
the east, leaving the town behind. At a deserted crossroads, he buried the box
containing a drop of his blood, just as the old man had instructed.
The
silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the distant hooting of owls and the
rustling of leaves. Isaac waited, his patience wearing thin, until he heard the
most melodious voice he had ever heard.
"Hello,
Isaac."
The
voice was like honey, smooth and sweet, and it seemed to come from all around
him. Isaac's head swivelled, trying to pinpoint the source, but there was no
one in sight. The voice seemed to be a gentle breeze that caressed his ears,
leaving him wondering who or what could produce such a sound.
To
be continued…