Regal and puff with a sense of self-importance, Kleisth decided to break the worst offender against her divine authority. Evangeline–the archangel of life. Caught under her spell, she was drifting through a dream, a dream of a life long past and the mistakes she’d made long before the future could catch up to her.
The first vision ca of a ti before she was crowned as an archangel. Her soul was drifting through the cosmos, trying to find its way to the...collective consciousness. A wayward gathering of those who’d been lost to ti in the line of their duties. Only the bravest of heroes and those whose radiant souls could not be allowed to perish, or be laid to rest in heaven, hell, or purgatory, were allowed the grace of joining the collective consciousness.
At one point or another, these valiant souls would be put back to their duties. As heroes, as angels, as guardians, and even as gods, and sotis even a necessary devil. All at the whims–or rather–the discretion of the Creator, the only deity who even knew of the collective consciousness.
From it, he had plucked Evangeline’s soul and instilled in her his own essence. The power of a mighty god blood like a radiant star from within, and as that power took form, Evangeline was born again with little mory of her past life. All she knew was no glory nor the good she’d done during her life, but rather the nurturing of a child. A baby cradled in her arms, for nothing greater had happened to her than that little girl throughout her previous life.
Taking note of her essence and her motherly love, the Creator gave her the title of an archangel himself. And instructed her, as he did the other archangels, to keep an eye on the gods of Atlaris, Nerva especially. Their duty was to follow a greater law than that set by the gods of this world, but sowhere along the way, the gods beca the world, and the world itself beca an instrunt for their exploitation.
She watched as thousands bled for a war, she watched as the gods twisted the truth and gave the mortals a common enemy so that they might crave the worship of gods in exchange for power to defeat the demon lord. She watched as the wars ca to an end, again and again, only for the gods to start another and call it a holy war.
In her eyes, the threat of the demon lord was nothing more than another tactic for manipulation. It gave the mortal a reason to get stronger and fight, and at the end of their war against the demon, what was their reward? Another war for their minds and bodies was now ready to take part in the so-called holy war.
Give them a reason to get strong for the true war. That was how she saw it all. Unbeknownst to her, however, having forgotten the purpose of the war against the demons, the current gods truly believed that the demon lord and the holy war had nothing to do with each other. The demon must fall to the mortals, bringing in a ti of peace for them to plot their dreams of grandeur.
Feeling her back hitting the bottom of the dark seam between the now and the future. Evangeline’s eyes opened to the perception of the now and a presud future. In it, she saw her own image like a reflection looking back at her from the surface of still water. Yet there was not an ounce of love or compassion left in her gaze; she’d lost a great deal of it already, but in that image, she’d lost it all.
An angel–the most rciful and the most loving of all. With ti, she was losing both patience and her compassion, all thanks to the gods and the mindless compliance of mortals. Staring at the reflection, she was once again reminded of her final duty. The duty to bring an end to all life on Atlaris as the bringer of apocalypse.
’If even you have lost love and compassion, then this world deserves death.’ The creator’s words rang in her ears like a prayer bell. Loud and clear, and echoing through the base of her skull.
It wouldn’t be long before the Creator’s words ca true, and like many other predictions he’d made before her, this one too shall co to pass. As the last creature living, she would be the one to kill everyone, including herself. Returning to the cosmic consciousness with a heart heavy with guilt towards a world for which she couldn’t do anything.
Bound by rules, she saw herself in chains of her own making. The gods were the angels’ masters, but even Raguel was breaking rules while she’d been compliant all this ti. Perhaps she should’ve done sothing sooner, sothing to prevent the chaos of now. Such doubts crept up her skin like spiders crawling out of an Arachne’s mouth.
Staring still at the future, she saw a final image of her kneeling on the ground. An ocean of blood surrounded her, and her own bloodied carcass had one long blade stabbing her through the heart. And in her hand was a child. A stillborn whose gutted mother lay right next to her. Still a doll, the babe’s body wouldn’t move, nor would it twitch even a little. It simply stayed still, dead like everything else around it.
"This is what your path of rampant vengeance would lead you to," Kleishth’s voice rained over the angel, falling alongside golden beads of light illuminating the viscous darkness. "An angel ant to love and nurture, only for her fate to lead her down such a bleak future. You can avoid it with my help, Archangel of life. Stop and think, we need not be enemies. Just–"
Cutting off the goddess’s words, the ’dead’ babe’s cries filled the void between oblivion. Its body stirred in Evenageline’s dead image, and a tear of silver fell onto the child’s lips as succour.
"What in the?!"
Ignoring the goddess, Evangeline looked at the mirror and smiled. Despite the darkness and whatever may co, the angel and her soul rember one thing above all. A child in her cradle of arms.
"We all die one day, and so does our spirit. Maybe it’s tough for you, immortals, to grasp the strength there is in the brevity of mortal existence. Wicked goddess..." Looking up into the dark sky, Evangline reached for her blade and held it high. "But life, it always finds a way!"
And so with her power coursing through her blade, the angel cast away the darkness and beca the first to escape from this orchestrated nightmare.
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