Those same sirens blared once again as firefighters, medics, and police filled the area, the fire blazing, burning the air to a heat unbearable to the touch, high enough to reach the whole 10-story building, as gray ashes wafted around like the first snow. The land and sky were painted a greyish maroon, reflecting the scorched reds.
White feathers floated, circling the crisis site, unseen to the human eye. They droned around, inspecting the vicinity, not out of curiosity about the disaster, but with a duty to retrieve the unfortunate souls, as the souls hovered around, awaiting to be taken away.
Before long, those pure souls were engulfed by abyssal fog, much to the alarm of the feathers, and the chase to retrieve the stolen souls began. They wouldn't let mere mists obscure their work.
In a flash, the white feathers penetrated the conscious mists, yet were repelled whenever they zoomed toward the entrapped souls. The mists swirled wilder, along with the feathers, before dispersing in a burst by the junction of the accident site, beyond the police yellow lines.
The feathers fluttered as Ezrael came into sight within its feather-clad yet still ever so mystically hidden underneath the cloak's lengthy draping. Holding out its blade of light, to that man in black's throat. Inches away.
"What do you think you're doing, Karita?"
Ezrael rumbled within a deepening undertone that vibrated through the ears. He offered only an emotionless, cold gaze, unflickering under the threat of those brilliant rods, despite knowing it could as instantly obliterate him. Yet he had prioritized at hand and much more important than his own life; his own amusement was apparently at stake.
"I need to go to hell."
"You're going down now, you are."
The angel didn't even need to lace its words; the bordered fury is undeniable. It required not hatred, but at that time, being obstructed in its work was what it despised the most.
Malum snickered, slightly, barely audible, and subtle against the roaring sirens going around. A snap to his finger and the surroundings slowed to motion, as if time had stopped around them.
"I wouldn't have disturbed you if it wasn't urgent, Ezrael."
A coldness of silence passed them despite the side to them burning to the ground, not that both of them are affected by the heat whatsoever. Hell is ten thousand times more cruel and tormenting than that of humans' so-called 'fire'. It was barely a flicker compared to that eternal flame.
Ezrael lowered its blade, disintegrating at once. It knew better to comply than force its way for those souls. As an Angel of Death, his duty is its own and only priority.
"What is it that you want, Karita? If you asked a passage to hell, you're asking the wrong one."
Malum pauses for a moment, pulling out his palm slightly. As the souls of illuminating light are held hostage, they emerge under his shrouding fog. His eyes linger on the illuminating light for a while before throwing them to the angel once again.
"I know. I won't trouble you any further. I need Moloch."
Malum's words somewhat made the angel flinch slightly, noticeable to him.
"Moloch... Gatekeeper of Hell..."
A mutter was heard from Ezrael. It was clear that they are not much fans of each other, not when even the infamous Angel of Death hesitated to utter his name. A long pause passed.
"You're going to hell. Is it Iblis again?"
Malum gaze seems to wander, looking far to who knows where, yet deep in thought.
"Yes, Iblis, he's holding something of mine. I presume. He's the only one I can think of that will take something from me."
He crosses his arms across his tensed frame as creases appear between his brows, frowning deeper with a tightened forehead. Ezrael shifted slightly, thinking whilst gesturing its hand somewhat towards the souls that had vanished before it, taken into custody once again.
"If you are confident to face Moloch. Then, suit yourself."
The angel gave him a knowing nod, then directed its inquiry. Something was amiss that needed to be put forth. If it is what Ezrael had thought, it's better to leave it behind.
"But answer me first. What is it that Iblis had taken from you?"
That question left him stoned with a stern look. Yet it didn't scare the angel whatsoever; as far as it was concerned, only Moloch's sternness and severity would ever make it shudder slightly.
With not a single smile or even a hint of happiness ever passing that creature, compared to Moloch, Malum won't even hold a candle to that abhorrence. Moloch, after all, is created without an ounce of lightheartedness to any beings, compared to Ezrael itself, which had the duality of being tender to pure souls and cruel to those who committed sins.
"Is it what we think of? That soul?"
Malum didn't refute or deny, and it was enough as an answer. Ezrael stood before him, firm, its words delivered with force, a powerful, authoritative air.
"It is that soul, Hellene Thorne. Then leave her be. She belongs there, you know that yourself. All your vessels will end up in Hell, for all the corruptions you sown deep inside them, being a part of them."
Knowing she was down below now suits her; a direct sent without needing to go through the whole ordeal of the Day of Judgement is not so bad. It would save her much time from having to be dried under the sun of a span of height.
Malum gritted his teeth at its words, clenching his jaw in restraint as his eyes blazed with suppressed rage, simmering deep that he dared not release. Although he knew much of the fate he set for his vessel, Ene will truly end up in such a place, the eternal flame, an everlasting inferno, but not now.
"She's too, no different. Sooner or later, she'll return. She belongs there, in Hell."
Those words only strengthen his resolve. He will get her back from the clutches of Iblis, no matter what; he will not let what is his be taken as easily, not even by the Devil himself.
"No."
Deepening rumble heard as Ezrael met his unwavering stare. His eyes brimmed with much confidence within his firm visage. Despite having abyssal irises for eyes, it glinted bright under the reflection of the frozen flares, unyielding.