It was like looking upon death itself, if death had a physical being. The skeletal aberration lit up the shadows surrounding them with the fires of the damned. Demons, mortals, and even angels would probably mistake this figure for a hellspawn of high standing given its image and aura alone. But Sera knew better. Despite the appearance, she could recognize the aura of an angel, a fallen angel. How could she not, when she is one herself.
Even then, bounded by chains that could not harm her, she could sense something different about this creature. Something familiar, perhaps even nostalgic. Had she known this disgraced being once long ago. Considering the rage and contempt the angel's aura was giving off directed towards her, she could only surmise that she had wronged this being in some way (but that did so little to narrow it down).
Bringing her out of her thoughts, the fallen angel walked slowly towards her, chain held tight so as to keep her bound. Not that she would run if she was free. She would take the punishment this being felt she deserved (and she would deserve it). Its footprints stained the ground with scorch marks as it made its way towards her. Despite herself, Sera started to become nervous. Why, she could not tell. Though she knew that this being could not harm her, and even if it could, she would gladly take the punishment she knows she deserves, there was still something within herself that made her quiver.. in. Fear.
Fear, she thought. Sera was not unaccustomed to fear. By Heaven, she had let it guide her all her life. Fear of demons uprising and destroying her (former) home, fear of not living up to her duties as high Seraphim, fear of failing (or being outdone by) Emily, fear of change. Fear of being wrong. She had always been controlled by fear, and others would suffer because of it.
But this was different. The fear she felt was suffocating. Wild, frantic. Almost primal in its sheer panic. The rapid thoughts in her head to Run, Hide, go go go, leave NOW. Whatever could she have done to this former angel to get such a response from her.
Being forced on her knees, the demonic angel made it so that they were at the same level, so that she could see the face of her captor. If she was not once an angel, she really would think this was a sinner demon of some kind. She had seen some sinners that looked like human skeletons with flaming skull heads. Sera had often wondered if it was at least a little painful for those sinners. Or why they were reborn into such a visage. Perhaps a relation to their cause of death. Or a representation of who they once were. She could not say, but she knew this one was definitely different from the others by shear design alone. Unlike the other skeleton demons, this one had no life in its eyes, just hollow sockets where its eyes should have been.
Her eyes widened as the skeleton’s once orange flames had transformed into that of bright blue, indicating its angelic origins. Angelic fire, other than angelic weapons, was one the few things in all of existence that could harm angels to her knowledge. A fire that could never be controlled, unstoppable in its spread only matched by its destructive efficiency. To even try to wield it would result in one’s fiery demise. In her thousands of years of existence, of maintaining order (her order), she had known only one being, one of the most righteous and steadfast angels she had ever known, to wield such power.
“Z-Zarathos”, she had whispered in stunned awe. It seemed as if that name resonated with it, with him. It felt as though he was glaring at her, despite the lack of eyes to do so. But his aura was much clearer now. Sera felt rage, disgust, and hatred within him. But she also felt pain, sadness, and, surprisingly, regret. For what, she didn’t know, but she would hazard a guess.
Zarathos had been an angel of justice. She would say perhaps the best of them. A caring and compassionate spirit, who wished only for peace. The embodiment that lived up to all the virtues humans thought angels should have. His drive was so much like Emily’s, wanting for the world and everyone inhabiting it to be happy no matter what. While she had not been close to him, she could tell that they would have definitely been friends had they both not been so busy with their respective work. How he had managed to manifest angelic fire, no one ever knew. But he had never abused his power, even in his zealous pursuit of justice.
One day, he disappeared without a trace. In Heaven and on Earth, there was no sign of him. There was worry, rumors that he had run away, or was hiding. But there was no search beyond a few days. It was regrettable his comrades would say, but there is much work to be done. So the case was closed, and no one ever found out what happened to him. All except her.
She knew where he was. How could she not, when she was the one that banished him from Heaven and sentenced him to the cesspool of Hell. How he had found out about the exterminations, she never knew. But he was definitely (rightly) furious. Oh, how Emily reminded her of him on that fateful day. He ordered her to put a stop to it, shamed her for even considering the idea, and looked so betrayed when she said no. He threatened her, threatened to go tell everyone in Heaven what was happening, told her he would burn her and all of the exterminators for their crimes. And with that, she panicked, and banished him to the depths of hell for his “betrayal” of Heaven.
Any regret she had for her actions were pushed down by her insistence that she had done the right thing, that she did what had to be done in order to keep Heaven safe. Or was it just to keep her pride and ego intact. Looking back, Sera wondered how many decisions she had made as high Seraphim were really to protect Heaven or to protect herself.
“Former High Seraphim, you have brought pain and misery upon millions of souls,” Sera was brought out of her self-loathing by the (rightfully) furious angel, his voice barely a whisper in her ear, yet causing her very being to shake in terror. If she listened hard enough, she could slightly make out the voice of the angel she once knew, if only as a cruel parody of what he once was.
“Look into my eyes. Feel their suffering, as if it were your own.” Through the soul piercing whisper that was his voice, under his rage and comtempt for her, she could have sworn she sensed a hint of regret, almost reluctance. Why, she couldn't say.
Despite her mind begging for her to look away, she found that she couldn’t. She didn’t want to look away. Even as a former High Seraphim, she had the power to look away if she desired. To avoid whatever unimaginable agony that was to befall her. But why would she? She, who had forced so much untold suffering upon those simply to put her own fears, her own selfish desires to rest. Who had disregarded, outright ignored better solutions to the problems Heaven faced simply because she thought there was no other way. No, whatever was to happen now, she would face it head on. She would not run away from her problems anymore. She would suffer, just as those she had let suffer by her hands.
Throughout the streets of Hell, the unnatural silence that had suddenly befallen the area had been filled by pained screaming. On any other day, this would be a normal, if not expected occurrence. The sinners and hellborn were used to it. But this was different. This was not coming from the pained screams of a sinner getting beaten to a living pulp, or the screams of terror heard on extermination day. No, this was like a thousand, a million souls simultaneously screaming in harmonic agony all at once. And it was all orchestrated by an entity that no one, sinner or hellborn, had ever seen before. Any citizen of Hell brave or stupid enough to take a peak were met by the sight of the Saint of Hell writhing in agony as a flaming skeletal being stood over her body. The aura surrounding the being left everyone watching the scene dead still. Even the stupidest and most arrogant of sinners knew to stay away from whatever in hell this thing was.
The inflamed being only looked down to stare at the Saint of Hell, its skeletal features unreadable in what it could be thinking. And just like that, it suddenly turned away from the writhing victim on the ground. Everyone watching flinched, wondering if this thing would come after them next. Instead, the being of blue fire got onto its flaming motorcycle and started to laugh maniacally, like it had heard the funniest joke in all of hell. Its laugh, as though it was mocking all of them for their fear, pierced their very souls. Whatever this thing was, they didn’t want to be anywhere near it, they wanted to run, but their legs just wouldn’t move. This wasn’t like seeing the angels on extermination day, no, this felt much worse. At least they had a chance, no matter how slim, to escape from permanent death. This being made them fell like it was over for them before they could even run, that they were personally going to die, and there was nothing they could do about it.
With the engine of the flaming cycle coming to life, the thing sped off onto the road at lightning speed, leaving a trail of tire tracks inflamed with that weird blue fire it had. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared with only its victim and its witnesses to know what happened. The screams from the Saint of Hell had quieted down to mere whimpers of pain, a constant muttering of “sorry” and apologies that no one could understand. No one made a move to help her. Even after it had left, no one dared to move, too afraid of the possibility that it would come back just as quickly to exact the same thing it had done to the Saint on any of them.
After what felt like hours, the Saint of Hell slowly rose from the ground, looking as though even that was difficult to do without some pain. Steadying and dusting herself, she made her way to continue her path. To where, no one knew. If one was brave enough to catch a glimpse, they would see her eyes, pale and dull, yet shaken. As all they could will themselves to do, the citizens of Hell watched the Saint of Hell continue to her unknown destination, walking as if the encounter they had all witnessed had never happened. Though they couldn’t help but notice the slight shaking in her step as she walked.