1100 AD
Kokabiel POV
Good things never last long.
Another five hundred years had gone by in the blink of an eye. Nothing interesting happened. Well, some stuff did happen but I didn't really have a say in it.
I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it.
Gabriel was on my left, her face pressed against my shoulder. Penemue was on my right, one leg thrown over mine. Both had their arms wrapped around me.
I smiled wryly as I saw them pretending to sleep while hugging me like bears. One on each side. Their breathing was too controlled. Too even.
They were definitely awake.
"I know you're both awake," I said.
Neither moved.
"I can literally see your hearts beating faster."
No response. They kept up the pretense of sleep.
"Fine. Stay like that. But when Michael asks why we're late for the meeting—"
Gabriel shot up immediately. "Meeting?! Why didn't you say so earlier, Brother!"
Penemue stretched lazily, making sure I noticed how she pressed her chest forward and gave them a little shake. "My lord feels so warm. I slept better than I have in centuries."
I sat up and rubbed my face. "How did we even get here?"
"You fell asleep at your desk again," Gabriel said. "We carried you to bed."
"And then got in with me?"
"You looked cold!" Gabriel insisted.
"Angels don't get cold."
"But you might have!"
Penemue just smiled. "I was ensuring your comfort, my lord."
This was my life now. Somehow.
"Next time, I'm going to fly somewhere else if I feel myself sleepy.
Gabriel pouted. Penemue smiled like a cat who got the cream.
How did this happen? How did I end up with two beautiful women using me as a body pillow?
I don't know. I really don't.
I didn't mean for things to end up this way.
***
I started going out of Heaven more and more in the last five hundred years. Sometimes I didn't return for years.
It started small. A trip to check on a village. A visit to observe some historical event. Then the trips got longer. The excuses got weaker.
"I'm conducting field research," I'd tell Michael.
Michael noticed. Of course he did. "You're spending more time on Earth than in Heaven."
"Just observing. Keeping watch."
"You're avoiding Gabriel and Penemue," he'd reply with that knowing smile.
"...Maybe."
"You know Gabriel doesn't know about romantic love. She just cares for you... maybe a little too much. As for Penemue, I honestly thought she would have fallen by now." He chuckled.
I shook my head with a wry smile. "You and me both, bro."
But it wasn't just them. Heaven felt... stifling. Everyone there knew me. Knew what I was. What I could do. The expectations, the worship, the constant attention.
On Earth, I was just another traveler. Another stranger passing through.
I could breathe there.
But it wasn't just that. I was busy trying to help people. I'd done so many things that to me might seem insignificant, but to them could be considered miracles.
***
I was there when a young boy named Augustus became Emperor of Rome.
I'd watched him for years. Smart kid. Cunning. But also genuinely wanted to make things better.
He was nineteen. Skinny. Looked nothing like a future emperor. But his eyes were sharp. Calculating.
I'd been watching the war from various angles. The political maneuvering. The battles. The betrayals.
One night, I was sitting on the roof of a villa in Rome, watching the stars, when someone climbed up after me.
It was Augustus. Covered in dust from travel.
He didn't seem surprised to see me there. Just sat down a few feet away.
"You're not one of my men," he said.
"No."
"You're not one of Antonius's either."
"Also no."
"Then who are you?"
"Does it matter?"
He thought about it. "I suppose not. I believe you are not human, with wings and the Laurel that shines brightly. Perhaps one of the gods."
I shook my head. "No. I'm not a god, child."
He looked up at the stars. "They say the gods speak through the stars. Can you read them?"
I chuckled softly. "Something like that. I guess I have been cursed with knowledge I didn't seek"
"Then tell me, will I win this war?" He asked me anxiously.
I looked at him. Saw the determination. The fear he was hiding. The weight already pressing on his young shoulders.
"That depends," I said. "What do you want to win? Power? Glory? Revenge?"
"Peace," he said immediately. "Rome is tearing itself apart. Every generation, another civil war. Another strongman. More blood." He clenched his fist. "I want to end it. Make Rome stable. Give people a future."
Idealistic. But he believed it.
"Then yes," I said. "You'll win. But the hard part comes after."
"After?"
"Winning the war is easy. Winning the peace? That's harder."
He turned to face me fully. "You talk like you've seen it before."
"I've seen a lot of things."
"Then give me advice. How do I rule? How do I keep Rome from tearing itself apart again?"
"Don't rule through fear," I said gently. "Augustus the Tyrant will always be overthrown. Augustus the Father of Rome? He'll be remembered forever."
"Father of Rome," he repeated with a smile. "I like that."
"Give people stability. Prosperity. Safety. Let them see that your rule improves their lives. They'll support you without being forced. They'll worship you without you demanding it."
"And my enemies?"
"You'll have to fight some. But the smart ones? Offer them a place in your new order. Let them keep dignity and power under your system. Dead men can't be converted. Living men can."
"And if they resist?"
"Then you weren't offering them something worth accepting."
He looked thoughtful.
We talked for hours that night. About governance. About Rome's history. About human nature.
When dawn came, he stood to leave.
"I don't even know your name," he said.
"You can call me Kokabiel."
"That's not Roman."
"I'm not Roman."
He smiled. "Thank you, Kokabiel. I'll remember this."
He did. Too well.
Years later, after he'd won and become Emperor, I visited Rome again. He'd taken the name Augustus—"the revered one."
He took my advice. Implemented reforms. Built infrastructure. Created systems that worked.
He admired me for some reason. So much so he even copied my style and made it mandatory for his successors to wear a golden laurel wreath as homage.
"Why the Golden Laurel?" I asked when we met privately.
He grinned. "You were wearing one that night. On the roof. I thought it looked imperial."
I almost laughed out loud. Who knew my broken halo would become a symbol authority.
But he'd seen what he wanted to see. A messenger from the gods. A sign.
"You based Rome's crown on a hairstyle?"
"I based it on hope," he corrected. "When I felt most lost, someone appeared and showed me the way. I want my successors to remember that guidance."
I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd just been trying to keep hair out of my eyes.
Augustus did well. Better than expected. His reforms worked. Rome stabilized. Prospered.
I visited occasionally over his long reign. Watched him age. Watched him go from idealistic boy to weary emperor.
The last time I saw him, he was old. Dying.
"Did I do well?" he asked. "Will Rome last?"
I looked at the empire he'd built. Strong. United. Peaceful.
"You did better than well," I said. "Rome will remember you as one of its greatest."
"But will it last?"
I thought about the future I'd glimpsed. The slow decline. The corruption. The fall, a thousand years away.
"Nothing lasts forever," I said quietly. "But what you built? The idea of it? That will echo through history. Long after the empire falls, people will study what you did. Try to recreate it. You've left a mark on humanity."
He smiled. Closed his eyes. "Then I can rest."
He died that night.
I stayed for the funeral. Watched Rome mourn. Watched his successors take power.
And I watched them slowly corrupt everything he'd built.
After his passing, his successors didn't follow his rules and policies. Corruption crept back in. Greed. Ambition. After a thousand years, the empire crumbled slowly.
****
I was there when the Dead Sea became truly dead.
The salt content had been rising for centuries. But there was a tipping point. A moment when the last fish died. When the last plant withered.
I watched it happen over decades. The water growing cloudier. The shores crusting with white. The smell of brine so strong it burned.
Humans living nearby called it a curse. Divine judgment.
It wasn't. It was just geology. Water flowing in, evaporating under the hot sun, leaving salt behind. Repeat for thousands of years.
But they needed someone to blame. Some reason for why their fishing villages died.
So they blamed themselves. Their sins. Made up stories about cities destroyed by fire.
I wondered if I should tell them the truth. That sometimes bad things just happen. No divine reason. No punishment.
But would that comfort them? Or make it worse?
I said nothing. Let them have their stories.
After all, what is our life, if nothing but a story?
***
I bore witness how Hannibal nearly ended Roman supremacy
Hannibal crossing the Alps was probably the most impressive thing I'd seen humans do.
Everyone said it was impossible. You can't march an army over mountains in winter. You definitely can't do it with war elephants.
Hannibal did it anyway.
I watched from above. Saw his forces struggle through snow. Lose men to cold and landslides. Lose elephants to the terrain.
But he kept going.
It touched me somehow, so I used some magic to protect them from the winter storms.
When he emerged on the other side into Italy, his army was half its original size. Exhausted. Freezing.
And Rome had no idea he was coming.
The look on their faces when scouts reported elephants in northern Italy was priceless.
I thought Rome would fall then. Hannibal won battle after battle. Cannae was a massacre—Rome lost fifty thousand men in a single day.
But they didn't surrender. Kept fighting. Adapted. Learned.
In the end, Rome won. Not through brilliance, but through sheer stubborn refusal to quit.
I respected that.
****
Arthur Pendragon pulling the sword from the stone was my doing.
I'd gotten bored one day. Decided to mess with British politics.
There was this kid—Arthur. Scrawny thing. Ward of some minor lord. Probably illegitimate son of a noble, judging by his features.
But he had something. That spark. That quality that makes people follow you.
So I forged a sword from the stars. Impossibly heavy. Impossibly sharp. Stuck it in a stone in front of a church. I called it 'Caliburn'.
Added an inscription: "Whosoever pulleth this sword from this stone shall be the rightful king born to Britannia, now and forever."
Rightful King. I was particularly proud of that word. Made it sound official.
Every knight in Britain tried. Failed. The sword wouldn't budge.
Because it physically couldn't. Star-metal that heavy? You'd need supernatural strength.
Or destiny. Or pure stubbornness.
Arthur tried on a whim. Needed a sword for his foster brother. Saw this one. Pulled.
It came free. The look on Arthur's face when it came free, shock, confusion, hope—was worth it.
I'd intended it as a joke. A way to mess with human politics.
But Arthur actually became a good king. United the warring tribes. Brought peace. Created something worth having. The Kingdom of Camelot.
Sometimes accidents work out.
I never told him I'd put the sword there. Let him think it was destiny. Faith. Divine right.
People need to believe in something.
Yahweh did give me an earful.
He was.. pouting? "Kokabiel, you ruined my plans! I wanted to make it something beautiful, a tale of legends! You made a drama into a comedy!"
I chuckled lightly. "Sorry big man. I couldn't resist."
He sighed . "I'll have to make him lose the sword and give him Excalibur somehow. Caliburn is too strong for him."
I shrugged lightly. "You can do what you want, you are the boss."
Yahweh looked tired. "You know, sometimes I wish you joined Azazel and his gang. You give me too much headache."
"Ouch. That's hurtful. Maybe I can take Gabriel with me..."
"Don't you dare!"
****
I also worked with Yahweh on the Sacred Gears project. It was fun at first.
"I have an idea," he said one day. "Weapons that humans can use. Give them a chance to fight back against supernatural threats."
"Humans need a way to fight back," he said. "Against rogue gods. Against devils. Against supernatural threats."
"They have faith. Prayers."
"That's not enough. They need power."
We started small. A ring that enhanced strength. A bracelet that healed wounds. I mostly gave cool ideas. The flashy stuff. Yahweh handled the actual mechanics.
Watching him build them was rather fun. It reminded me of something.
A memory just out of reach.
A small garage. Two people bent over a car hood, laughing and tinkering with something. The younger one was... me? Who was the other person?
Can't remember.
"What about a gauntlet that doubles power?" I suggested.
"Too simple. What if it kept doubling? Exponentially?"
"That's broken."
"That's the point."
Then Yahweh got ambitious.
"What if we made something that could kill gods?"
"That's a terrible idea."
"The best ideas are."
We hunted creatures across the world. Dragons. Beasts. Monsters. Each one contributed essence to the Sacred Gears.
For True Longinus, I went to Golgotha.
The hill where Jesus was crucified. The spear that pierced his side was still there. Buried. Forgotten.
But it remembered. Soaked in holy blood. Divine blood. Human blood.
The spear hummed when I touched it. Recognized me.
"You want to be more?" I asked it.
The spear pulsed. Yes.
I condensed a small star into a gem. Embedded it in the spear's shaft.
The spear had already become a sacred object, soaked in divine and human blood. Yahweh provided extra buffs and made it look cooler. He even put some of his will inside the gem.
The result was terrifying. A weapon that could kill literally anything. Even beings like Yahweh.
"This will cause problems," I said, holding it.
"Probably," Yahweh agreed. "But humans need hope. Even dangerous hope. Even false hope sometimes."
"You're setting them up to challenge gods."
"I'm giving them a chance. What they do with it is their choice."
"This feels like a bad idea," I sighed.
"Probably. But humans need hope. Even dangerous hope."
****
Making the Annihilation Maker was harder.
Typhon was one of the hardest fights I'd had.
The Greek's original monster. Father of all monsters. Imprisoned under Mount Etna by Zeus.
We needed his essence for Eclipse Dragon. A Sacred Gear of darkness and chaos.
So I broke him out.
The fight devastated southern Italy. Mountains crumbled. The ground split. Volcanoes erupted.
Typhon was massive. Hundred-headed. Each head breathing different element. Fire. Ice. Poison. Lightning.
"Why wake me?" he roared. "To fight? To die?"
"To be remembered," I said. "Your essence will live on in humans. They'll wield your power."
"Humans? Those little insects?"
"Those insects survived you. Survived Zeus. Survived everything. They deserve power."
We fought for a day. His hundred heads attacking from all angles. My stars raining down like artillery. He was weakened from the previous battle.
In the end, I compressed a thousand stars into my fist and punched straight through his central mass.
He fell with a loud crash.
"Not... bad..." he wheezed. "For a little bird..."
"Rest," I said. "Your legacy will continue with them."
He smiled with his last head. Then dissolved into essence.
***
Zeus got pissed though.
"You freed Typhon?! Do you know how many gods died imprisoning him?!"
"I killed it permanently. You just trapped him. He'd have escaped eventually. You're welcome."
"That's not the point!"
I knew that.
The real issue was Hera.
Zeus was already mad that Hera had cheated on him. Which broke the last peace talks between our factions.
I still don't know how Yahweh and her did the nasty, but he somehow knocked up Hera.
Which wasn't diplomatic.
"You slept with Zeus's wife?!" I asked Yahweh privately.
He had the decency to look embarrassed. "It was... complicated."
"How is that complicated?!"
"She was upset. I was comforting her. One thing led to another."
"You're God! You're supposed to resist temptation!"
"I'm not perfect, Kokabiel. None of us are."
That shut me up.
***
Zeus demanded satisfaction. A duel. God versus God.
I volunteered to fight instead of Yahweh. "I freed Typhon. I'll face you."
Our battle was... not legendary.
It was like Mike Tyson versus a coughing baby. And you know how that ends.
Zeus threw his Master Bolt—his ultimate lightning. Strong enough to level mountains.
I caught it. Absorbed it into my stars. Threw it back twice as strong.
He hit three mountains before stopping.
When he tried to get up, I was standing on his chest. "Yield."
"I am Zeus! King of—"
I pressed down. Cracked his ribs. "I wasn't asking."
"...I yield."
Athena negotiated peace after. Smart woman. Recognized when her father was outmatched.
"Please," she said, kneeling. "He's the king of Olympians. Let him go if you wish to have peace."
I honestly had no desire to do so.
I looked at her. She was scared but stood firm. Brave.
"Fine. At least you are smart enough."
We negotiated the details on Olympus. I had to stay there for a week. I also met a very pregnant Hera. I understood why Yahweh couldn't hold back. She's a total Milf... Ooppss, I did it again!
I seriously need to touch some grass rather than stars.
Athena was rather... Excited? She took me around Olympus, chatting animatedly. I kept nodding and smiling. Then on the last day before I left, she took me to her chamber.
Nothing happened.
I repeat... nothing happened. It was a normal heartfelt discussion. The fact that she took off her clothes had nothing to do with me.
Zeus didn't think so. But he couldn't do anything.
I didn't care much about the treaty. But Yahweh made it a big deal.
Heaven celebrated like we'd won a war. Yahweh threw a feast. Angels sang my praises.
I became a celebrity overnight.
Michael pulled me aside. "You didn't have to do that. Father could have taken him."
"Maybe. But sometimes it's nice to have backup."
Michael smiled. Clasped my shoulder. "Twin Swords of Heaven. Has a nice ring to it."
"You made that up just now."
"I'm making it official."
Great. Now I had a title.
The attention was suffocating.
And with fame came headaches.
There would be at least one female angel falling due to lust every couple of weeks. Even some dudes.
"Brother Kokabiel," one approached me. "I can't stop thinking about you."
"Try harder."
"But you're so powerful. So beautiful. Your wings—"
"Are black. Like a Fallen Angel's. That doesn't bother you?"
"It makes you more mysterious!"
For crying out loud!
"Brother Kokabiel, I... I long for you," another female angel confessed.
"Please don't."
"But I must! My heart burns with—"
"That's called indigestion. See Raphael."
I reported it to Raphael. "This is getting out of control."
She sighed. "I know. I've never seen anything like it. The system should prevent this."
"Then why isn't it?"
"Because you're breaking the system. You have free will. You inspire desire. The system can't process that."
"So what do I do?"
"Stay away from Heaven more?"
It got so bad that Yahweh allowed me to stay out of Heaven longer.
"Take your time," he said. "I'm tired of making replacement angels."
Even he got tired of it.
Azazel was both happy and sad about the situation.
Happy because his Fallen Angel faction grew thanks to me. Sad because the new ones didn't care for his flirting at all.
"Thanks for the recruits man!" he messaged me once. "Though they're kind of annoying. All they do is moon over you."
"Not my problem anymore."
"They're literally called the 'We love Kokabiel Corps' now."
"Please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I was."
"They only want you," he then complained . "What do you have that I don't?"
"Twelve wings. Actual standards. A personality that isn't eighty percent horniness."
"That last one hurt."
"Truth usually does."
****
I guess that's when Gabriel and Penemue called a truce?
They stopped fighting each other. Started working together instead.
"We've decided to work together," Gabriel announced.
Penemue nodded. "For your protection, my lord."
"Protection from what?"
"The others," they said in unison.
They weren't wrong. Other angels were getting aggressive. Trying to corner me. Make their moves.
But I was curious. "Aren't you two always fighting?"
Penemue smiled. "We'll share."
"Share what?"
"You, obviously."
"I'm not a toy!"
"Of course not, my lord. You're far too valuable for that."
"Brother, we only want to protect you from the others!"
"By smothering me in my sleep?"
"Exactly!"
They helped keep the other angels away. Which was good.
But the cost was steep.
Gabriel, sweet and innocent, wanted to spend every moment with me. Help me. Care for me.
Penemue, calculating and seductive, saw an opening and took it. Got close. Made herself indispensable.
It was hard to control myself at times. My angelic nature dampened emotions. But it didn't eliminate them entirely.
But I didn't view them romantically. Especially Gabriel.
She was like a clumsy little sister. And I was from Heaven, not Alabama.
She was like.... Who was it? I felt a slight ache in my heart. I couldn't remember well. I have too see my journal.
Still, the proximity was... problematic.
Still, I let them stay close. Because the alternative was worse.
Dozens of other angels. All wanting something from me.
At least these two I could trust. Sort of.
It felt suffocating at times because I didn't even know who I truly was anymore.
Was I Arthur? Was I Kokabiel? Both? Neither?
What did I even plan on doing in the future?
I knew I'd leave Heaven after Yahweh died. At least after I settled most things and made sure there was no chance of another war soon.
I had to live for myself. Follow my selfish desires for once.
Maybe live among humans. Try to regain what I'd lost.
Emotions. Feelings.
Real ones. Not these dampened, distant feelings.
****
I started thinking about this seriously when the Great War officially began.
Lucifer's declaration came like thunder.
"Heaven has grown corrupt! Angels have grown complacent! We will tear down the old order and build a new one!"
The message echoed across all three realms.
Yahweh looked tired. "So it begins."
"We can still negotiate," Michael said.
"No," Yahweh shook his head. "Lucifer doesn't want peace. He wants rebellion. Wants to prove he was right to fall."
"Then we fight."
"Then we fight."
The heavenly host responded in kind.
Yahweh put me in charge of logistics and war planning. Keep Heaven running while he and Michael went around kicking ass.
It was hell.
The paperwork alone made me curse so much I might have fallen ten times over.
"You're the only one I trust with this," Yahweh said calmly. "Michael fights. I fight. But someone needs to keep Heaven running. Keep supplies flowing. Keep information moving."
"That's boring."
"It's critical. Wars aren't won by heroes. They're won by supplies and information."
He was right. I hated it.
Reports from twelve fronts. Supply requisitions. Casualty lists. Strategic assessments. Diplomatic communications.
Mountains of paper. Endless decisions.
At least I had my secretary who worked diligently.
One night—or was it day? Time blurred—I finally completed a major negotiation. Kept the Norse pantheon from joining the devils.
I was so relieved I hugged Penemue.
Then kissed her.
On the lips.
For way too long.
When I realized what I'd done, I pulled back.
She just stood there. Face red. Eyes wide.
Then she smiled. That dopey, love-struck smile.
Then fell down.
She collapsed towards the floor, twitching. Her wings flickering between black and white. Like a strobe light.
"Oh no. Oh no no no."
Thank God Gabriel didn't see it.
I caught her before she hit the floor. Shook her. "Penemue! Don't you dare fall because of this!"
She opened one eye. Still smiling. "Worth it..."
Then passed out properly.
I had to call Raphael. Had her stabilize Penemue's essence.
"What did you do?" Raphael asked weirdly.
"Kissed her. Accidentally."
"Accidentally?"
"It was a heat of the moment thing!"
Raphael sighed. "You're lucky I can stabilize her. But Kokabiel? Be more careful. Your affection literally has power."
After that, I maintained strict professional distance.
Penemue tried to recreate the moment constantly.
"Remember that night you kissed me?"
"Nope. Never happened."
"You're terrible at lying, my lord."
"I'm not lying. I'm in denial. There's a difference."
But I had to be careful now. If Penemue fell because of me, I was quitting my job.
No way I was doing paperwork by myself.
****
Ten years into the war, casualties were heavy on both sides. Mostly on the Devil's side.
Only Lucifer could match Yahweh in direct combat. Although he was probably holding back.
The other three Satans—Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus—held back Michael together. Barely.
But the Fallen Angels were the real problem.
Azazel was smart. Too smart. He used human warfare tactics
Ambushes. False retreats. Guerrilla strikes. Psychological warfare.
Angels were rigid. They only knew how to follow orders. March in formation. Fight honorably.
Azazel didn't.
So they suffered a lot of losses.
Casualties piled up. The strategies stopped working.
This made Yahweh finally angry.
"Kokabiel," he called me to the throne room one day.
"Yes?"
"End this. The Fallen Angel front. Azazel is causing too many casualties."
"You want me to kill them?"
"I want you to make them stop. How you do that is up to you."
I nodded. "Understood."
Michael put a hand on my shoulder. "Be careful, Brother. Azazel is cunning."
"I know."
Gabriel hugged me. "Please come back safely."
"I always do."
Penemue handed me my sword. "Don't hesitate, my lord. They made their choice."
I took the weapon. A blade forged from the stars. Thousands of stars condensed into a sword that could cut through anything. It was bluish black with a silver edge.
The stars within it glowed ominously, reflecting my mood.
****
Now I was standing in front of Azazel, Baraqiel, Shemhazai, and thousands of other Fallen Angels.
They'd made camp in what would one day be called Turkey. A strategic position between three fronts.
They saw me coming.
One angel. Alone. Walking across the battlefield.
"Is that—?"
"The Archangel Kokabiel!"
"Why is one of the swords of Heaven showed up here?"
"We're all gonna die!"
"Where's his army? He can't possibly think to take us by himself!"
Azazel smiled wryly. "If he gets serious, none of us will leave here alive."
I stopped about a hundred feet away.
The Fallen Angels formed ranks. Thousands of them. Two-winged, four-winged, six-winged. Even a few eight-winged among them.
Azazel stepped forward. Still handsome. Still confident. But older now. Tired.
He knew why I was here.
"Brother Kokabiel," he said. Tried to smile. Failed. "Is there a chance you can let us go? I swear I was forced by Lucifer. He sees us as nothing but pawns."
I didn't respond immediately.
Just looked at them. At faces I recognized.
I saw Baraqiel. Used to spar with him. Good guy. Terrible jokes.
Shemhazai. Taught me chess. Never won a single game.
Others I'd laughed with. Trained with. Called family.
All looking at me now. Knowing what was coming.
All of them now standing against me .
I sighed and opened my eyes fully.
The violet hues glowed eerily. Stars swirled in my irises. The night sky itself reflected in my gaze.
My sword ignited. White flames that weren't flames. Starlight condensed into cutting edges.
"Then blame him for what I'm about to do." I spoke in a pained voice. "For what it's worth, I truly wish it didn't have to come to this. I'm sorry, brother."
Azazel's expression shifted. From hope to resignation.
"I see." He drew his own weapon. A spear crackling with holy lightning. "Then let's end this like warriors, brother. For old times' sake."
Baraqiel stepped beside him. "Together?"
"Together."
Shemhazai raised his staff. "It's been an honor, Kokabiel. I'm truly sorry."
I sighed softly. "May god have mercy on you all. If there's another life, I wish I could have stopped this from happening."
The thousands of Fallen Angels behind them raised their weapons.
I raised mine.
And hated myself for what came next.