The hotel room was immersed in faint light, and over a large table, there was an old TV model, displaying various types of scenes. From wars and other kinds of conflicts, to more specific scenes, like a group of people chatting in an office, or a woman in suspenders walking aimlessly in the streets.
And at that very same table, sat two figures, playing a game of chess, each one thinking carefully before making their move.
One of them looked old.
Unnaturally old, as if his presence was older than time itself. With thin white hair, wrinkles all over his face, and milky white eyes, that seemed to see everything, everywhere.
The other one, sitting opposite to the old man, looked handsome. Like beyond the mortal concept of handsome.
He had black, wild-wavy medium hair, dark, brown eyes, and a calm expression, almost disdainful.
“Queen to G6” said Metatron, the scribe of God, withdrawing his King from a Pawn’s check. Meanwhile, scenes from a young girl mercilessly slaughtering a middle aged man, ran through the TV screen. Both pairs of eyes paid attention to the chessboard, but somehow, they were still paying close attention to the happenings unfolding on the TV screen too.
“You’re running out of options here, uncle.” Lucifer said, his tone sounding almost like a child having fun. “You even seem like your protégé out there... You know what I’m saying, right?” he smiled, looking wickedly at his uncle. ”Lost, desperate. Almost... As if you don’t know what move you should do from now on... Pawn to H5.” Lucifer said, tauntingly, as he concluded his play.
“You know nothing, foolish child.” The scribe of God said, his eyes glowing coldly, as if to show his adversary that he wasn’t taking the game as seriously as he should. “You really think that Nezariel killing that human will actually affect the scales of Good and Evil?”
On the screen, Nezariel’s body shone softly, as she descended with the crowbar a few more times. Her victim, shrieking loudly, but the TV’s volume was so low, that it could only be noticed by his expressions.
Lucifer kept going, his voice warm and soft.
“Do you really think that I’m betting on such low odds, without a solid reason at all? Uncle... You should know better by now, and it’s still your turn.”
Metatron let out an unconscious sigh, followed by a glimpse of exasperation in his eyes.
“Queen to G5.” the scribe said, moving his King to where it once was. “What do you think will happen, if the Wall is even slightly cracked?”
“I think you will have to bow down to the truth, that the concept of absolute Good and absolute evil is just as outdated as you yourself are, uncle...” the fallen archangel retorted, nonchalantly. “Also, you’ll have to stop doing that naughty thing you do. What was that again? Oh... Yes... Acting as if you’re Father!” Lucifer raised his hand to punch the table, but thought back, not wanting to mess up the beautiful game he built up until then. “Queen to F3.” he concluded.
“If anyone besides me heard you talking like this, one would even think that you love our father.” And as the scribe spoke, the scene on the screen changed to an all-out war. Bombs exploding, soldiers shooting against civilians, a total bloodshed. “Knight to G8.” Metatron said, while moving his piece and going on with his speech. “However, how can it be, if you were thrown into Sheol exactly because you wanted to take our Father’s place?”
“Bishop takes Pawn at F4.” Lucifer proceeded with his moves. “Wanting to take a Tyrant’s place, doesn’t mean one wants to become the tyrant. Different from you, actually, who not only wants to become our Father, but also is trying to lay the whole Haled to waste, just to be at the top of the food chain again.” the fallen one sighed out in frustration, waiting for his enemy to make his move. But then, decided to sting his adversary for a slight moment.
“Do you miss it so much? When we were the most loved creations of Father? Are you really that of a spoiled brat?”
That caused Metatron to flinch for the slightest of moments. His eyes sparked with what could only be the deepest outrage, the vastest anger. And when it happened, there was a wave of energy so powerful that it made the TV screen twitch, losing its image for a few moments.
And on they played...
Metatron and Lucifer, trying to make each other flush it all down and throw the whole game away.
However, when the signal went back, there was the image of a young woman, with just the same features of Nezariel. The only difference was her eyes, and that she was just arriving at the Haled, crossing the threshold between everything.
She appeared to be in pain, and the whole reality around her seemed to act strangely towards the woman.
“She isn’t my protégé anymore.” the scribe spat, completely out of the blue. “Queen takes Tower at A1” and he made the move. “How can I say she’s special... When she couldn’t even keep the Page of Justice locked in the Book of Life? Do you know what her sloppiness brought over us?”
“King to E2” Lucifer muttered to himself, starting to sound bored. “Your defeat is imminent, uncle. Also, is that what your fellow celestials are to you? Just mere tools to keep the powers of the Book of Life safe? Do you have no comradeship towards them?”
The scribe’s tone started to grow cold and emotionless.
“What is comradeship, Fallen? Is it what you harbour towards your fellow demons? Is it what made you sacrifice half of your sacred blood, to open the gates of Styx? Just so that your army could have a slight chance of stabbing us in the back...? Listen young child, this comradeship you speak of, has no value at all, if it can’t keep you alive to seize the power you conquer.” the old figure looked at the board, realising he only had one move. Metatron let out a sigh before announcing his only option. “Knight to A6. You know they’d betray you in less than a blink of an eye, right?”
“I know of it.” Lucifer replied, composed as if nothing ever changed his mood. “Or do you actually believe that I didn’t know of the demonic blood that stains the Page of Justice?"
Metatron’s eyes went wide, the only visible reaction in his body, ever since the duo started playing.
“Yes, uncle. I did know about it.” Lucifer kept going. “Knight takes Pawn at G7, check... One of my demons, one of my soldiers. And you thought, for real, that I wouldn’t know about this attempt of betrayal?” the fallen archangel laughed so loud, so heartedly, that the whole room started to echo with what felt like fun. “Oh, my uncle Metatron... You always think that you’re one movement ahead, but look at that very chessboard. Look as closely as you can.”
And Metatron did.
He looked closely with his eyes that could see past, present, and future.
And when he actually saw the scheme behind Lucifer’s moves and countermoves, the scribe fell silent.
“You know now, don’t you?” the archangel stated. A slightly crooked smile dancing in his lips. “Make your move.”
On the TV, a wild looking man smoked a cigarette, while holding a torn page.
“You’re not gonna get away with this.” the scribe said, his tone carrying such fear, that it seemed as if losing that game meant death. “You can’t put the fate of Heaven and Hell in the hands of a broken Ophanim!” Metatron looked flushed, almost ashamed and angry, while stating his move. “King to D8!”
“Queen to F6, check.” Lucifer’s voice was filled with indifference and boredom. It was as if he already knew the result of the game, and he probably did.
To confirm it, Metatron’s eyes displayed anger, and the TV showed Nezariel, with three companions, leaving what looked like a restaurant.
And the young who looked exactly like the Ophanim, on the other side of town, somehow chasing them.
“Knight takes Queen at F6!” the scribe of God chanted, as if he had already won the game. “Your pawns will never get out of the Haled alive, and my envoys will make sure of it!”
“Bishop to E7.” Lucifer called his uncle. “And I think this is checkmate.”
Metatron looked outraged, his lips twitched in pure disbelief.
“You don’t think you can counter my moves only because you can see time, do you?” Lucifer asked, rather softly, despite the enraged glare that Metatron directed towards him.
“You may be quite good at chess, child. But you better beware of what you bet with your... Moves and countermoves. They’ll mean nothing, once the Haled turns to mud once again!”
“Our Father was a far better adversary than you, uncle. Also, do you actually think that my... As you call them, pawns, don’t know about the other Pages?”
Mathew’s father was crazy.Tormented by the ghost of a war that had already been won over, the old man was only an empty shell, possessed by some devil that inhabited the trenches.Mathew’s home became a hell of yelling, violence, sleepless nights, and military blabbery.Eventually, the boy’s mom left, without saying goodbye, nor leaving any clue of her whereabouts.Such was the fear she felt, of being found for her husband.And she left Mathew to his own lack of luck, to endure the hellscape of his childhood and teenage years, carrying the burden of an abusive father, who neglected his own son, and chose his past instead of a future with his own family.Until Ma
Mathew walked and walked, but no matter where he looked, there was not a single trace of any lead that could take him to the place where that girl ended his dad’s life.Where that girl murdered him.The young man forgot how to sleep, the dark circles showing in his light brown skin. And he only kept eating so that he could get stronger, training every day, dreaming of a vengeance that even he couldn’t understand.It felt innate to him, although he knew that he hated his father.But to know that he was killed in cold blood, while completely defenceless...He couldn’t even think of the fact that,
Aamon used all his energy to get as far away from the girl as the room allowed, but the earl had lost too much essence in its defiled body, so she wasn’t able to do much against Nezariel’s devastating power.“What the fuck is going on? Didn’t you say you lost your grace after arriving?” Aamon shrieked, desperate, but no answer came, and no one backed her up. She looked at where Bertrand and Purson were, but they were pretty knocked down too.Although she noticed that she was the only one who looked really hurt.Yet, Nezariel only looked at the demon, complete darkness permeating her eyes.Even the light that flickered between the strange amalgamation of colours in her eyes, wasn’t there.&l
The town’s landscape unfolded around Mathew in an anxious way.All at once, blinding and deafening.He thought to have seen someone who's back looked like that young woman from the video.He even imagined seeing her being stumbled by a truck, but when Mathew turned once more to see if he was able to look at her face, she wasn’t there.And now, on top of barely sleeping and only thinking of that murderous little thing, his mind was already playing tricks on him.Or that was what Jeremy’s son was thinking to himself, when he kind of stumbled quite badly into a homeless person.“I’m sorry.” Mathew started,
An abandoned building, somewhere in townPurson was sitting, looking at his noodles while waiting for Bertrand to do his thing.“You know it’s very unlike for the shell of an archangel to be capable of controlling elements, right?” The demon king asked, while looking at his noodles, already hopeless, that he would have a hot meal to warm his sleep.“And why is that?” Bertrand asked, while focusing his thoughts on his extended hand, aiming at the tiny paper pile on the floor right in front of him.“Because the hierarchy of angels splits them in castes.” Purson started explaining. “Archangels are entrusted with protec
“So Bertrand has some kind of Ishin power inside of him, and I’m not human, even in the slightest...?” Nezariel asked, taking both Bertrand and Purson by surprise. The demon king flinched ever so slightly, remembering the feeling of Lucifer’s glare through his niece’s eyes. However, that only gave him the determination to face his own decision. “It’s time for you to know...” The demon king said, standing up to face Nezariel, who was also standing. While Bertrand, feeling some kind of family issues vibing all around, kept quiet. Purson fell over his two knees, bending his whole body towards Nezariel, until his forehead touched the ground with a very solid sound. “First of all... I, Donnovan, deeply apologise to you, little sister. I haven’t been a good uncle, neither
“Right Grace, how’ve you been feeling lately?” The woman asked. She was in her thirties, wore an elegant plain white shirt, with black trousers. It was comfortably warm in her office, so she had her black jacket hung on a hook behind the door. She had dark white skin, light brown eyes, that changed in the light to a lovely and soft and bright greenish brown. The woman wasn’t tall, but wasn’t short either, just a bit above the average. Her hair fit her like a beautiful frame to a painting, and despite the small bags under her eyes, that showed how many hardly slept nights she spent on work, the woman was lit as a light. Elleanore was beautiful in a way that attracted both men and women, but still, she was a single mother. Ella, as she preferred to be called by her very few friends, chose to live life for her daugh
“The war ended with Lucifer’s side being absolutely defeated. Their comrades, and brothers and sisters in arms were locked in the deepest part of Eden, and judged by the greatest archangel of all, Michael.There was a place in God’s creation, forgotten by all living things. This place was only fire, depth, heat, and damnation. There was no possible chance that the defeated side could ever survive in that hole.And yet, Lucifer and his underlings were all cast out from Eden, tossed right into that fiery pit, and that was the first dark dawn of Sheol.The problem was that this war was caused by a renegade cherubin, whose name is long forgotten by history. He called upon a conjuration to fight against Michael and Metatron, whom he found out to be plotting against humankind, by using the forces of nature, ruled by the Ishins, and even by influencing human’s choices.They tested them with nonsensical tasks, sent plagues, a