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Cooled Passions Chapter 52
🕑 Added 2024-10-30 11:26:29 +0000 UTCChapter 52: Heaven's Light
She very carefully kept her face controlled as she looked at Damocles. She had seen him in pictures, of course, but meeting him for the first time was striking. When she had first saw him, she could only see the resemblance to Remora, to herself. The cherubic appearance, the rounded face, the soft features.
He had grown, however. And without the Sagan’s characteristic blond hair, he bore a striking resemblance to someone she once knew. The familiar face had changed over time, warped and twisted from his fall and descent into hate, but looking at Damocles was like looking back into the past.
Helel’s face blinked, wary suspicion marring his features as he carefully asked, “I’m sorry? You wanted to speak to me?”
Her eyes flicked over to Raphael, just as he looked to her. Looking into her brother’s gaze, she saw that she was not the only one witnessing what was before them. It made a twisted amount of sense, upon reflection. Helel had been made to be her twin, after all.’The Light of Hope’, as the intention was. Still, this much of a resemblance, an almost perfect copy of Helel before his fall… Was the Sagan blood enough to create this effect with nothing but a change of hair colour?
“Indeed.” She answered his question, “The Sagan name holds a significant history, which brings its own power with it. Your estrangement with Sirzechs and Serafall is well known, but your stance on Heaven is a mystery.”
“I see. You believe I am a possible threat to your peace efforts.” Damocles replied, nodding at the statement.
The peace efforts that were meant to be a secret, she noted.
“Ultimately, yes. However, there is much we have to discuss besides that, such as your visit to Transylvania.” Her voice took on a more gentle tone, “Personally, I also want to build a working relationship with you. You are young, and yet were treated most unfairly, whether in truth or in perception it matters not. Hurt can easily turn into resentment and you are in a position where that can be disastrous.”
He stared at her then, the familiar face holding an unfamiliar expression. Looking into his eyes, she was struck by the maturity she saw within them. It saddened her that this boy had been forced into growing so much, so quickly. Not just mentally, but in his personal power as well. How hard must he have trained, how desperate must he have been, to attain this level of strength so soon?
That’s not even considering the being by his side. The blue Goddess of the Chill Night. She doubted that was the extent of her Authority. Gabriel remembered her father, what being in the presence of the strongest God of Light to exist was like, and this Goddess gave off a very familiar feeling. Not just in terms of power, but in the nature of it as well.
To be able to hold the domains of both Light and Darkness simultaneously? She was far, far more dangerous than the Devils had let on. If they even knew. How did Damocles find her? Supposedly he was her ‘Consort’, but what did that entail? It was most worrying, especially since there was absolutely no record in the scriptures about her.
She was right to come here. Damocles had great potential, as did the people he had surrounded himself with. However, potential could evolve for either good or ill. The greater it was, the higher the risk when it was corrupted.
Gabriel vowed to do her best to ensure it was used properly.
“I apologise if this is rude.” He spoke, causing her to refocus on the conversation, “But I am unsure why an Archangel would care. That was a matter between Devils. If I caused offence by my actions within Transylvania, I will gladly pay recompense as needed. However, the internal strife between the Satans and I is a more internal matter. I can understand from the perspective of potential allies as you are, but you seem to care about this more personally than that would indicate.”
“You are right.’ She conceded, “Remora Sagan, your ancestor, was made specifically to defeat me. If she could not cause me to Fall, she was meant to kill me. However, even with her created specifically for that singular task, I could not bring myself to hate her.”
Despite the common perceptions, Angels were allowed to hate and rage. Righteous fury was a requirement for their battle against wickedness. They only fell when they took it to the point of a vice, revelling in the negative emotions. Such as what happened to Kokabiel.
“Instead, I felt sorry for her. She was deeply attached to someone who did not care for her in turn.” Gabriel continued, “It destroyed her. After his death, she went on a rampage, slaughtering hundreds of thousands, until I was forced to kill her to stop her depravities.”
It was difficult to talk about that time, the piles of corpses, the desecration that the original Sagan had left in her wake. Even worse than all that, was the despair, the resentment and loss of faith that flowed from her actions. After all, those atrocities were carried out with Gabriel’s face. Still, here and now, in front of Remora’s descendant, she needed to make sure history did not repeat itself.
“Thy actions are due to regrets from the past? I would expect beings as old as thee to see the folly in such acts.” The Goddess spoke, her voice calm but subtly disapproving, “Mine Consort is his own man, not a reflection of someone long gone and irrelevant.”
Gabriel gently touched her brother’s arm before he could get too upset over the admonishment. She herself was a bit irked by the way the being had put it, but the Pagan was not wholly incorrect.
“You are correct of course. Merely overlaying Remora upon Damocles would be most foolish.” She turned to regard the Sagan again, staring into his gaze resolutely, “But the parallels are there. You are a rising star, one that many would follow. A symbol, an Idol, whether you want it or not. Our world is a collection of tinder, you may be one of the many sparks that could ignite it.”
“And so you have come here to… what? Get my measure? Warn me off of acting? What is it that you wish to achieve here, Archangel Gabriel?” He spoke, staring at her seriously.
Thankfully, it did not seem that he had taken offence at her words so far, merely seeking to understand the reasoning behind them. She took in a breath, steeling herself for the results her next words were sure to invite.
“I wish to save you, Damocles. I saw the aftermath of your reveal, the vengeance you extracted from the Astaroth. Your assault on the Tepes was indiscriminate, killing innocents and the guilty alike. I do not know the reasoning behind the attack, but it does show you in a worrying light.” Gabriel admitted, fully expecting the ridicule for an Angel wanting to save a Devil.
Even Raphael tensed at her admission. But instead of laughing or mocking her, Damocles merely stared into her gaze, analysing and curious. She did not know him well enough to decode the emotions swimming in her eyes, but they did not seem angry or dismissing.
“I see. Mine Consort’s actions were done on my order.” Ranni spoke, causing both Angels to snap their heads to her, “The Vampires held the daughters of their leader captive. Their prayers were desperate and indiscriminate, Damocles went to save them on my bidding.”
“Many are praying to you for salvation, from the more deprived areas of the various Pantheons. Why save these Vampire children, and not them?” Raphael questioned, in genuine curiosity, not admonishment.
“They are not useful. These girls are. Doth thee imagine me merciful? A benevolent God, perhaps? I must disabuse thee of that notion.” She steepled her fingers, “I saved them because they could be of use. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Gabriel examined the two of them ,feeling that what the Pagan Goddess had just said was untrue. Or, at least, disingenuous. The Vampire girls were not saved because they were useful to Ranni, they were saved because they were useful to Damocles.
This just proved that he had a plan, a desire that requires a significant amount of powerful figures loyal to him.
“Do you care nothing for those offering their devotion to you?” Raphael’s voice was now affronted, “Those that entrust their hopes and dreams unto you?”
“I do not.” Was the cold response, “There is but one being on this world whose opinion I care for, and he is to be my equal.”
Gabriel sucked in a breath at that. Damocles, the equal of the Dark Moon? She was overwhelmingly powerful. If he was truly able to reach her level… Gabriel’s mission just became a lot more important.
Raphael’s response was interrupted by Damocles himself speaking, “I have nothing against Heaven, no grudge or desire to see you brought low, despite what my instincts are pulling at me to do. I do not know what you mean when you say you wish to ‘save’ me, from my perspective there is nothing I need to be saved from. However, understanding is not required in this instance, I think.”
He stepped forward, ignoring Raphael’s tensing at the action and reached out his hand towards her, open in an invitation, “Whatever you mean by your desire to save me, it is apparent that this is not an attack. Nor is it an attempt to undermine me, but rather your desire is coming from a good place, a desire to help me. I will accept that spirit, and offer my hand in friendship in return. My family has a history with you, Gabriel, but I am not my ancestors. The end of this story is not yet written.”
She reached forward and took his offered hand, inwardly wincing at the shudder that ran through him as his instincts as a Sagan assaulted him. All Devils wished to desecrate angels instinctively, but for most it was a passing sensation, an intrusive thought that could be easily ignored. For the Sagan, when facing her though? Damocles’ restraint was truly remarkable.
“I am glad to accept that.” She spoke as she shook his hand, “Your reassurances are appreciated. Although Heaven is working with Serafall and Sirzechs in bringing an end to our long conflict, I will gladly do the same with you, regardless of their wishes.”
What she was insinuating was that to Heaven, the Sagan would be treated as a separate entity, not part of the New Satans. She saw that Damocles appreciated the distinction, a small smile of gratitude showing on his face at her words.
Although he did not show it in a way that would be visible to those that did not know him, she could feel Raphael’s disapproval from her side. She was essentially acting as the Diplomat for Heaven without leave from Michael, after all. But she was even more certain now, standing in front of the Sagan, with his insane rate of growth and the Pagan Goddess at his side.
Faith looked like insanity to those that did not believe, at least until they saw the light for themselves.
And she believed, now more than ever, that she was correct. Damocles Sagan was dangerous, should he grow vengeful. His name, his reputation in of itself would be enough for him to throw the world into conflict should he wish to. A conflict between the Devils would have a knock on effect. All the Pantheons had grown restless, staring at each other’s territories greedily. All it would take was one disruption and this hard fought peace would be shattered.
The Shinto were stirring, which would anger the Chinese and the Hindu. The Norse were poised on a knife edge, ready to carry out their End Times at the slightest push. Even the old American Gods were resurfacing, Ranni’s arrival having stirred the tide the world over. The various minor gods of Africa were already falling sway to the slowly awakening Egyptians, a situation that was worrying in itself given their proximity to the Vatican.
The Greeks were still licking their wounds, the grudge of their more powerful sides being felled by her Father still smouldering after all this time. Even here, she could see all these various conflicts ready to break out and all she could think was that there were even more she likely did not see. The Celts were long gone, but were they truly dead or merely hiding? What about the Primordials, would they get involved?
The Babylonians? What did it mean for Tiamat to tie herself to the Sagan? The future was tumultuous and uncertain. Others would claim that this was merely the way history goes, an inevitable consequence of the death of her Father. But she knew them to be wrong. There was a locus of change, an epicentre from which all these disruptions stemmed.
She hoped dearly that none would force Damocles into action before she was in a position to temper his response.
---XXX---
“Michael did not permit you to set up a whole separate diplomatic relationship.” Raphael’s voice was chiding, as they flew through the sky, their trip to the Underworld over.
“He didn’t” Gabriel agreed, “But you saw him, Raphael. You felt her presence. I will gladly explain myself to our Brother when we get back, but decisive action was the wiser choice there.”
“Hmm.” He hummed, his considerate and thoughtful nature showing itself, the most benevolent Archangel considering her words, “What is done is done. More importantly, his face…”
“I never thought we would see it again. The resemblance is remarkable.” Her wings, brilliant white, dispersed the rain as it neared them, the tainted water not able to touch their bodies.
“More than remarkable. It is suspicious. You spoke before with Pandora, his mother, yes?” He prodded her.
“I did, once. It was a summit to discuss our reaction to the Reformation as a pantheon. She was… intense. Followed her feelings readily.” She confirmed.
“Who was her father?” He inquired.
She had been considering the same thing. Pandora had been born in the waning days of the war between Heaven and Hell. The daughter of Remora Sagan had caused a mass uproar in heaven, the Power of Binding gaining a second user, something that was difficult enough to deal with when it was only used by a singular combatant.
The final battle happened soon after, of course, so the point was rather moot. Especially after Remora went mad with grief and started her bloody campaign against Gabriel.
“We don’t know. Remora never married, or took a public paramour.” She responded to her brother’s question.
“Gabriel.” His voice was slightly admonishing, chastising her for avoiding the obvious conclusion, “We know how she felt about him. We know why he made her. Looking at the Sagan, looking at that face, can you deny the obvious conclusion?”
“Conclusions reached in haste are terribly dangerous.” She raised a hand to forestall his argument, “But you are correct. It lines up, far too well. I didn’t feel his power within Damocles, but it might not be inherited by Remora’s children. Until it is confirmed either way, it is in our interest to not give air to the theory.”
“The Old Guard.” Raphael sighed, “It irks me, I must admit, that we are being constrained by Hell’s politics. A descendant of Lucifer, his reputation untarnished by defeat or cowardice. I can see what you are wary of.”
She shuddered, wings ruffling slightly as the theory was spoken out loud, but she quickly recovered. Lucifer… Helel. If he really was the father of Pandora, if Damocles truly was his descendant… That meant that her fears were likely correct. Considering what Remora was made for, what she was made to look like… the implications were always something she was aware of, of course, but seeing the fruits of such a thing in front of her was a different thing entirely.
She would have to deeply consider this possibility when they returned to Heaven, but for now they were on a mission. A mission whose site they swiftly arrived to hover over.
Central America, like most of the American continent, was largely untouched by the strongest Pantheons of the world. Oh, they had holdings here, churches, shrines, companies, but for the most part they claimed no ownership of the land here. The Mayan, Inca and Aztec had been decimated by Heaven, but the remnants still had a significant presence here.
It meant that any fugitive of Heaven’s justice would be wise to flee into the old Empires, preventing a force from the Church from pursuing them into the hostile territory. That was where the Angels came in, beings capable of defending themselves from Pagan attacks while punishing their wayward subjects.
It was rare for a single Archangel to be sent on one of these missions, never mind two, but they were out of Heaven anyway and could take care of this on their way back. It wasn’t unheard of for this to happen, a small diversion while taking care of other business. After all, it fell to them to protect the Church of their Father, a task that they all took to gladly.
As they hovered over the compound, they witnessed the state of the souls of the humans below them. A priest had discovered an artefact in an excavation sponsored by the Church in Georgia. The artefact had corrupted him, or maybe brought the corruption already there to the surface. He had revelled in the power granted by the item, using it to dominate his followers and create a personal cult.
The Exorcists sent to apprehend Father Ambrose underestimated the strength of the artefact, due to it only being a very small piece of the whole. This resulted in the Father overpowering them and fleeing, eventually ending up in this compound with his new cult, according to missionary informers.
They could feel it, even up here. The waves of power emanating fro ma central building of the ramshackle camp. Whatever he had found, it was certainly worthy of their attention.
“Raphael, please see to any wounded. I will go and free the poor souls closest to the source.” She spoke, demeanour shifting.
She was no longer Gabriel, amicable idol of Heaven. This was Gabriel, leader of Heaven’s Host, the most deadly Archangel of the Great War.
“Yes sister.” He agreed, moving down to one of the abodes.
She instead moved to the main building, her Light removing an entire wall and allowing her to walk into the main bedroom.
A rather out of shape man shot to his feet from his position in a pile of young female bodies, eyes wide in fright. However, as they found her, they instead filled with lust.
“An angel! Truly, God smiles down upon me!” Father Anderson spoke, salivating at the sight of her.
“I am Gabriel, the light of Hope.” She spoke, causing him to snap out of his delusions, eyes filling with fear, “Be afraid, sinner. Repent and surrender yourself to face Heaven’s justice.”
“E-even you will fall before my power.” He panicked, obviously not having faith in his own words, bringing up an arm that held a glowing golden hilt.
Gabriel’s eyes widened at the sight of what he held, the sword was missing it’s blade but she recognised it immediately. Light flashed throughout the room, blasting the hilt from his grasp, his arm following with it.
He gripped his stump, wailing in pain and collapsing in a heap, crying out with tears running down his face.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, please…” He whimpered, but Gabriel was already moving, picking up the ancient weapon carefully.
Turning to the fallen priest, she sighed. He was a broken man, fallen far from grace. There was only one absolution she could give to someone so far gone.
“I hope you find repentance in the embrace of Heaven.” She spoke, raising an arm and ending his wails with a flash of golden light.
The women started waking up at this point, laying eyes upon her and screaming. Her light grew brighter, fighting off the effects of the sword and allowing them to slowly regain their minds. The crying started soon after, but that was inevitable.
After ensuring they were healed and sound of mind, they instructed any who wished to seek out the embrace of the Church for aid and departed.
“Gabriel. That was a very large number of people affected by a singular object. What was it?” Raphael asked, flying with her back to their home.
“Something I long thought lost.” She spoke, before raising her hand and showing her brother the hilt.
He jolted, recognising it instantly just like she had. To beings as old as they, this was sword they knew well, it’s power at its zenith when they were still young,
Clasped in the Archangels grip was the hilt of the oldest legendary blade in existence.
Ea, the Sword of Kings.
Comments
Son-Of-Scorn
Hmmm Ea eh? I'm guessing it's not gonna be on the level of the fate version but even still it seems interesting
