Foreword:
This tale is set at what should have been the End of Days, or Armageddon. Some even call it The Apocalypse. It is a tale of betrayal, love, and salvation...
I give full credit for inspiration for this tale to Jon Shaffer and Iced Earth from the following albums:
'Something Wicked This Way Comes'
'Framing Armageddon'
'The Crucible of Man'
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I.D.
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Prologue: Framing Armageddon
"You know your task, Bazael."
"To eliminate the one foretold to give birth to the Redeemer."
"Yes, my friend. How you do so is up to you."
"Why?"
"Because we trust your judgment. All of your assassinations are flawless."
"No, Lord Elder. Why must she die? She has done no wrong."
"You know why, Bazael."
"Because she was born into Mankind? Her soul is pure like a Setian."
"Because if she lives, Mankind will find the path to Redemption."
"Would that not be the correct course of action? Let Mankind be redeemed."
"What has gotten into you, Bazael? You have been flawless from Christ to Kennedy. Your assassinations have been written into their history books."
"Because I tire of this, Lord Elder. My infinite anger is at an end, and I have seen that these men and women today are not those who committed Genocide on us millenia ago."
"Know your place, Bazael. You have served the Thirteen and the Ten Thousand for ages with no remorse. You do what we cannot."
"I do, Lord Elder. I also know that if I kill her, then all hope of Redemption for Mankind dies with her. They have great evil among them, but they also have great love. Who are we to judge these descendants of the Murderers?"
"We are the Chosen of Earth Mother, Bazael. Have you forgotten your own wife and child murdered in the Scourging?"
"No, Lord Elder. I remember them as if it was this morning. I see my wife's face. I see my son's face. I see them look upon me with horror in their eyes at the acts I have done in the name of Justice."
"It is unpleasant, Bazael. But it is also necessary."
"Is it, Lord Elder? Give your Order, then."
"Bazael, the Order is given. The Mother of the Redeemer will die by your hand, or not at all."
"Yes, Lord Elder."
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Chapter 1: Harbinger of Fate
I stepped from the subway into the station and headed up the stairs to street level. It was raining hard that night. My tasks are always grim, and they have worn on me over the centuries and millenia.
The rain hit my trenchcoat and it felt as if each drop was a hammer, beating me down. I had grown tired. I looked at the diner where she worked, and I sighed. In my sigh, anyone passing by might have heard the regret and frustration inside me. I had been a good soldier. I had done the Council's bidding since before the Dawn of Time. Now our victory was within our grasp, and all it would take would be to snuff out the one candle of hope that Mankind had left.
It must be done in secret. It must be done without the knowledge of anyone close to her. I saw her through the window, taking orders from her customers at their table. They were rough looking men, and they leered at her constantly. I let the rain fall over me as I watched them and her. I looked at their Souls, and I saw they were darker than my own. I looked at her soul, and I was blinded by her brilliance. Those four men would snuff out her light without my intervention. I could let them do what they were planning and leave her to die. I would not have to slay her, but the mission would be fulfilled.
I looked for traffic, but there was none. I stepped into the street and made my way to the diner. I looked at my face in the window and saw what all men and women saw. My short black hair was plastered to my head by the hard heavy rain. My green eyes were clear and bright, and seemed otherworldly, even to me. It was a form that I preferred over others, simply because it was the most unexpected. I looked non-threatening. I looked like most other people, except for my eyes. That was the one Setian trait that I would never lose. I could change my face and hair at a whim, but never my eyes. I looked at the reflection and into my own eyes. I could see the love I had, and the pain of devastating loss. I closed my eyes and turned away from my reflection. I walked up the steps and into the diner. I looked around. The cook, the four demons in human form, and the woman were the only others in the diner at this time of night. I stepped to the counter and sat down on a stool.
"What can I get ya, hon?" I was roused by the sound of her voice, the Brooklyn accent not masking the softness of her voice.
"Coffee, please. Black. No cream or sugar."
"Comin' right up, sweety." She said and flashed me a radiant smile. I nodded slightly and showed a thin smile that didn't reach my eyes.
She poured a mug for me and set it before me. I handed her two dollars. "Thank you. You may keep the change."