THE FIGURE IN BLACK POV
I was awoken by a rough shake. Bone-tired, I blinked up to see Athan's wide smile stretching unnaturally across his face. "Time to get to work," he said, cheerful as if the night had never happened. Annoyed, I pulled the blanket closer, only to be kicked hard onto the floor.
He loomed over me, his presence heavy, his smile too bright, too fixed. There was nothing supernatural about him, yet something in the way he carried himself made my skin crawl.
Athan thrust a hoe into my hands, ordering me to till the farm. At his side hung an axe in a leather holster intricate tooling, the kind only a craftsman with patience and passion could make. The artistry clashed with his cruelty, and that contradiction unsettled me more than the kick.
I rose slowly, leaning on the walking stick I had once used against him. His dried blood still stained the wood. Athan's eyes flickered with something almost human melancholy, confusion but the moment passed. His face hardened, shoulders rigid. "Can't you use anything else to walk?"
"Obviously not," I replied flatly. "There's nothing in your house but books and those strange bubbling things."
He rolled his eyes, dismissive.
Then, just as quickly, his face brightened again. "What's your name?"
I realized I hadn't told him. "Azrael," I said matter of factly.
AZRAEL'S POV
"Alright then, Azrael," he replied, opening the door. The cold of early morning bit into my bones, sharp and merciless. The air was damp, heavy with frost, and each breath I drew scraped my throat raw, leaving me coughing against the chill. My skin prickled as if needles pressed into it, and the wind seemed to cut straight through cloth and flesh alike.
He shoved me out cruelly, nearly sending me sprawling into the dirt. I looked back with contempt, but his smile only gleamed brighter, as if cruelty itself were his joy.
We walked for what felt like hours, though it was likely minutes. The cold gnawed at me with every step, sinking deeper, hollowing me out. My fingers stiffened, numb and useless, while my shoulders ached beneath the weight of the hoe.
And my leg , my cursed leg burned like a forest fire. The pain was slow, hot, all-consuming, spreading upward with each step until it felt as though my entire body was aflame. Every movement was agony, a grinding torment that made my teeth clench and my breath hitch. The cold only worsened it, freezing the muscle while the fire raged inside, a cruel paradox of suffering.
Still, I pushed forward without complaint, each step a battle against the cold and the pain, each breath a reminder that survival was no mercy.
At last, a barren farm stretched before us, bleak and lifeless beneath the pale morning light. The soil was cracked and gray, as if it had long since forgotten the touch of rain. No stalks rose, no weeds dared to grow only dust and the faint stench of decay lingered in the air. The wind swept across the empty field, carrying with it a chill that gnawed at my bones, whispering through the silence like a dirge.
The land looked starved, cursed even, its emptiness more haunting than ruin. It was not simply neglected it was hollow, stripped of vitality, as though something had drained it dry. Each step onto the earth felt heavy, sinking into a ground that resisted life itself.
The pale morning light did nothing to soften the desolation. Instead, it revealed every scar, every barren stretch, painting the farm in cold hues of ash and bone. The horizon seemed endless, yet offered no promise, only the weight of futility pressing down.
Standing there, I felt the farm was not just empty it was waiting. Waiting for toil, for blood, for something to break the silence that hung over it like a shroud.
Athan vanished behind a tree, returning with a bag of seeds. He handed it to me without a word. I grabbed it, rolling my eyes, while his smile remained plastered across his face. Whistling, he strode off to chop trees, leaving me with the emptiness of the field and the weight of his command.
I worked from the early morning until noon, the rhythmic chopping of wood echoing from deep within the forest. Each strike rang out like a drumbeat, steady, relentless, reminding me of Athan's presence even when he was out of sight. The space he gave me was a fragile reprieve, time enough to think. I need to get out of here, I told myself. But not yet not until my leg and the gash on my arm healed.
As if mocking the thought, my leg flared with a sharp, stabbing pain that made me buckle over the wooden walking stick. I stopped tilling, the hoe slipping from my grip as my arm burned with exhaustion. Sweat stung the wound, and I glanced down at the seed bag. Only three seeds remained. Three. And I was dead tired.
I am a knight of the realm, for God's sake, I thought bitterly. I don't need to do any of this. I shouldn't be here, breaking myself on barren soil like a peasant.
My thoughts were cut short by a sudden crash a loud thud followed by the rolling clatter of timber down the hill. I froze. Athan had fallen. The lumber had struck him squarely on the head with a sickening crack. He lay still, unmoving, sprawled in the dirt.
I stood rooted, heart hammering. Is he dead?
But then, impossibly, Athan stirred. He rose slowly, as if nothing had happened, blood matting his hair, his expression unchanged. Without a word, he bent, gathered the fallen lumber, and carried on as though the blow had been nothing more than a stumble.
A vision flashed before my eyes. Athan rose and moved toward me, his smile stretched wide, unsettling, almost grotesque. Then, in an instant, he was headless, sprawled on the ground, firewood rolling away from his limp body once more.
It was as though I was trapped in déjà vu. Again, Athan stood, his grin plastered across his face, moving toward me with that same eerie cheer. But this time, beyond him, I saw it a monster charging, swift as lightning. Athan's head snapped back unnaturally, his gaze locking with the creature. Then suddenly, he had no face, no head, only a hollow absence where humanity should have been.
The monster closed the distance with terrifying speed. I recognized it instantly: an angel foot soldier, its presence radiating a cruel, divine authority. My instincts screamed. I raised the hoe to block its advance, the impact jolting through my body, sending agony tearing down my injured leg.
With a desperate cry, I swung the hoe downward, driving it into the creature's skull. The blow landed true, splitting flesh and bone but the soldier only shrugged it off. Its body shuddered, then straightened, eyes burning with cold light, as if my strike had been nothing more than a nuisance.
Another vision seized me. The monster lunged, claws outstretched, raking toward my throat with murderous precision.
Instinct took over. I shifted to the side with practiced ease, the movement born of countless battles, though this was no ordinary foe. Its claws sliced the air where my flesh had been, the sound sharp, like steel tearing through silk.
The creature's speed was unnatural, its body a blur of shadow and light, its eyes burning with a cold, merciless fire. My heart thundered, but my hands were steady. I gripped the hoe tighter, its weight suddenly feeling like the only anchor between survival and oblivion.
The vision pulsed, flickering between reality and nightmare. Athan's smile flashed in the distance, wide and unsettling, as if he were watching, waiting. The monster's form twisted, its outline shifting, its claws lengthening, dripping with something that shimmered like molten glass.
I braced myself, knowing the next strike would come faster, harder, and that hesitation meant death.
I ducked down just as the monster lifted its claws, the air splitting with a hiss. A sharp axe whirled past, burying itself in the creature's arm right where my head had been moments before. The impact staggered it, but not enough.
I lunged forward, driving the hoe into its eye. The resistance was sickening, a wet crunch as the iron bit deep. I yanked it free, black ichor spraying across my hands, and bolted toward Athan. My leg screamed with every step, fire burning through muscle, but adrenaline carried me. The walking stick fell uselessly behind.
The monster's scream tore through the forest, a guttural, inhuman sound that rattled my bones. "Throwing that axe was dumb!" I spat as I rushed past Athan. He fell in beside me, his breath ragged, his voice sharp.
"And you're too slow!" he shouted.
"You're way too impulsive!" I barked back, fury and adrenaline pumping through my veins. We ran hard, but the monster was faster. Its claws scraped stone as it closed the distance, each stride a blur of speed and hunger.
I didn't want to lead it back to the cottage. I skidded to a halt, dirt spraying beneath my boots. Athan surged past me, but I turned, gripping the hoe with both hands.
The creature lunged. I swung low, hooking the hoe into its grotesque, twisted face. Flesh tore as the iron dug deep, and with a savage pull I dragged the monster down. It crashed into the earth, thrashing, its guttural roar shaking the ground.
I pressed my weight onto the hoe, forcing it deeper, pinning the beast as it writhed beneath me. Its claws slashed wildly, gouging the soil, inches from my legs. The stench of its breath was foul, hot and rancid, washing over me as it screamed.
For a moment, I thought I had it. For a moment, I thought the ground itself would swallow it whole. But its strength surged again, unnatural, relentless. The fight was far from over.
I fell back as the soldier swiped his claws, the air splitting with a hiss. I raised the hoe, blocking with its wooden handle, the impact jarring through my arms. The monster lifted its head, and for a heartbeat I saw a flash of a familiar crest burned into its flesh. The sight staggered me, my leg flaring with pain so sharp it sent flashes across my vision.
At that same moment, another vision seized me Athan turning back, something sharp rushing toward my skull from behind. Instinct saved me. Using the leverage of the hoe, I shoved myself to the left just as a knife whistled past, burying itself in the monster's already gouged eye.
The creature screamed again, a guttural roar that shook the ground beneath me, the earth trembling as though it shared its agony. Just great, I thought bitterly. That was so helpful.
But then Athan came, fast as lightning, his blade carving through one of the monster's arms in a single savage stroke. The beast reeled, its hesitation brief but vital. I swung the hoe, hooking into its flesh but the weapon snapped, splintering in my hands.
I recovered quickly, fury burning through the pain, and tore the axe athan threw, the one still lodged in the monster's upper arm. Its weight felt right in my grip, heavy and final.
"We need to cut off its head!" I scream-spoke, my voice raw, echoing through the clearing.
Athan met my gaze, his expression grim. We turned together, back to back, facing the monster as it loomed before us. Its remaining arm twitched, claws dripping with ichor, its faceless head tilting unnaturally as it prepared to strike again.
The ground quaked beneath its roar. The air stank of blood and ash. And there we stood two against one, battered, bleeding, but unyielding ready to sever the thing's head and end its unnatural life.