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   Chapter 25 Epilogue

A Hidden Past By Grace Estellar Characters: 19535

Updated: 2019-11-18 22:14

****Samuel's POV****

"So Samuel, how did it go? Were those pathetic winged nephilim defeated?" The Master rasped.

The two of them were currently on the bloody landscape of the High Grounds cliffs, right where the winged nephilim had been a few short days before. The morning sun was peaking out over the horizon, casting out the light of a pink dawn. Samuel relishes in the warmth of the morning rays for a few moments. As their organization had been hiding away for so long, Samuel could not recall the last time he had been able to watch as the sun ascended into the sky.

Samuel's pitch black wings twinge behind him anxiously, another feather slipping to the ground. He fears like his wings do that this might be the last sunrise he sees in a long time, if he ever sees one again that is. So he does his best to stay in the moment, but a sharp smack to his back regrettably brings him back out of it.

"I was talking to you insignificant worm! Now answer me." Master snarls.

Samuel's body shudders with the pain of the slap. It had been right over the several welts on the small of his back. He was sore enough without that addition, so he turns to face the Master in order to avoid further punishment.

"The winged nephilim....they got away Master." He utters feebly.

His heart pounded fearfully in his chest as he stared at the other's hooded face. Samuel hardly ever saw the man's glowing red eyes, but today was an exception. Those eyes sparked dangerously from underneath the shadow of the hood, like a demon lurking in the shadows.

"They what?! You mean to tell me that all those demons I gave you were for nothing!!" He roars.

Samuel takes a shaky step back, struggling to remain calm in the face of the Master's rage. He knew this would happen, but he still couldn't help the terror he was feeling now. Despite being the Master's second in command he was treated more like dirt compared to anyone else in the evil angel's stead. Apparently it was to keep him in his place.

"I'm sorry sir, I really am. B-but you have to realize-" Samuel gets cut off by the angry Master.

"Realize what Samuel?! Tell me now!"

"T-they weren't a-alone." He says meekly, ducking his head down. "They....they had help."

Master's eyes narrow dangerously, one of the daggers he kept hidden underneath his cloak sliding out. The blade was a curved silver, with red plated rubies at the blackened hilt. The blade that had once been pristine was now crusted over with blood. Samuel did not want to know whose blood that was from. Likely it was too late for them anyways.

Said blade is now being pressed against the Adams apple of his throat. A small spurt of blood putters out from the nick Master makes there. Samuel gulps down his fear, knowing that the wound will heal up in a few more short minutes, shortly after the blade is removed. He belatedly realizes that some of the blood coating the blade is still a rich gold. He finds it strange that despite his allegiance to the darkness he still has some holy energy running through him, through his endarkened grace.

If the Master cares about the mixed color of his blood, he does not comment on it. Samuel doesn't know if he should be thankful for that or not. The leader of the Dark Order still seems very angry at him. He knows what this leads to; he can already feel the sting of the whip against his back, cutting his already damaged skin open even further.

"Who helped them?" Master growls.

"Uh, t-the neph-nephilim sir. It was the nephilim." He utters, cautious of the blade still pressed against his throat.

Master nods, removing the blade slowly. Samuel lets out a brief sigh of relief, only to let out a gasp of pain as the blade is driven painfully into his shoulder. The fallen angel knows better than to scream as blood pools from the wound. This was not the first time a blade had been driven through that shoulder, though it was the first time there had been no accompanying scream. Samuel, in his own sickening way likes to think of it as some form of improvement on his part.

"Of course those foolish nephilim would get in the way. You should've anticipated it." Master steps away, leaving the sharp blade in his comrade's side.

Samuel wishes to pull the blade out, though he knows that Master will just stab his other shoulder if he does. He learned the hard way the first time, he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. So instead he focuses on the small blessing that the blade hadn't gone all the way through him to show the bloodied blade piercing out on the other side.

"I-I'm sorry Master. I truly am. Though, I do have some news you might want to hear." Samuel speaks quietly now. The information he spoke of was something he was still processing in his own disbelief.

It's been so long since I last saw him. And now he's back. Would he recognize me? After all these years I can't say...

"Do tell." Master orders.

Samuel can feel the shuddering of his wings as he speaks. The blackened feathers were like deadened nerve endings. They no longer had the same amount of feeling in them as they would back when they were still vibrant and full of life. Still, they can feel the pain he is in, the whisper of apprehension running through his veins and his heart that still weakly beats on.

"They did what they set out to do. Remiel, he-he's back Master. Archangel Remiel is finally awakened." His voice shakes as he speaks. Samuel wraps his arms tightly around his body, wincing at the pain the movement causes his shoulder.

He doesn't know what reaction he expected out of the fallen angel, but an evil smirk wasn't it. Still the smile curved his lips, an equally evil glint in those wicked eyes. If the man's hood was down, Samuel knows that he would see all the wrinkles and scars the man had gained disappear for just

in parallel to the terror he had about coming out all those years ago, not that he would ever willingly admit it aloud.

"Alec I..." Maryse straightens visibly, her shoulders that had tensed up at the appearance of his wings relax visibly at the worry Alec knows must be visible on his face. "I think they're amazing. But-but how did this happen? How is this possible?"

Alec lets out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His wings quiver, the primaries ruffling with his emotions. A soft blue hue was dusting the primaries now, replacing the panicked grey that had taken form before. With the wings being in tune with his emotions, Alec found it interesting to watch as the inner feathers would shift in color. As always, the wings remained white a majority of the time, the gold trimming on the wing tips and at the edges of his primaries were hard to see unless one was close up.

The new archangel was pleased that his mother was okay with his new appearance, even if she was still relatively perplexed by it. Maryse's reaction had been one that he had only dared to hope for, too afraid of another alternative answer that would shake him to his core. He is glad that dark, upsetting alternative never came to pass.

"Well, it's a long story." He begins.

Maryse nods. "I'm sure it is. How about you start at the beginning."

"Sure. It all started when I got a nasty headache..."

****Unknown POV/ unknown time****

The winged man let out a tired sigh as he ran his bloodied hand through the dirt. The blood, of course, was not his own. It ran in red rivulets on the ground, a small puddle of fairie dust resting where he had started his work a great many days ago. So many things had been leading up to this moment. He was not about to mess up, not when his grand plan was finally coming within reach.

The day that we finally return.

Five long years had passed, during which he and his comrades had suffered a great deal in this world of darkness. In this world called Thule.

His hands clench tight into fists as he rises back onto his feet. His blackened wings had several scars on them from wounds that had never and would never fully heal. Some would say that he had never been an angel in the first place...but he knew better. The fallen angel knew that he had been abandoned, one of the first angels to ever be cast away into the darkness.

It had seemed inescapable for most of his life, but things had looked better when he founded his order, his Dark Order.

Said Dark Order likely had new leadership back home now...and also to some extent here. He was never one to take the spotlight, preferring to be the evil mastermind behind the scenes. When he had first been sent to this wretched world, he had needed a new poster leader to rule in his stead. Most of the fallen were incompetent, but he had found what he was looking for eventually...even if it had taken him some time.

"Is it almost ready?" A droll voice sounds behind him.

He tips his head forward in acknowledgement, his dark wings twitching.

"Yes." He tells the other.

"Good. It'll be nice to get out of this wretched place once and for all." His companion responds. The ice in their tone is unmistakable. He can still recall how kind his companion used to be, before the fall.

Before I broke her.

"Mmmm, and then we can finally make them pay." He did not need to say who they was. His companion knew all too well that he was talking about the Windimiere family.

Daniel, Pippa and Harry would pay for the suffering they'd caused. That much was certain.

Beside him his companion gives a fierce nod, their once colorful wings shaking behind her. Together they would get back to their earth. Together they would make the world go down in flames, burning into nothingness.

The winged man smiled.

He could not wait to begin.

Things were just getting started.

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