Author’s Note: This story arc takes place before any of Anti’s short stories excluding his origin. During this time, Anti is on a space adventure with others so he will not be present for this arc. This story takes place after the sixth book in the Descended series, Descended: Afterlife. If you’d like to read it, go and show some support by purchasing the first book Descended: Awakening on Amazon!

Chapter One

Azazel, the archangel of sacrifice, sits quietly in his chamber meditating. The events of the Limbo War replay in his head. His brothers and sisters were slaughtered so easily. If it hadn’t been for Lux destroying the entirety of Limbo, their souls would have remained there for eternity. They all knew the risks, but they fought knowing they had a chance to win. However, this was not thanks to them, but the superheroes, the avatars stationed on Earth. 

Suddenly the feeling of a fire sword penetrating the back of his skull startles him and scares him out of the meditation. His black-feathered wings spread out fully. He pants heavily, mouth agape as his thoughts shift to the reason for the war in the first place. A child. The seed of his oldest sibling. He couldn’t keep to himself and ended up creating something that wiped almost all of them out. 

His thoughts shift again as he careens down the rabbit hole. Why was Michael still in charge? Could he realistically be dethroned? What would be the consequences of failing? Who could he trust and recruit? He is aware of an Apothael of a different reality doing so successfully, but it ultimately leads to his death. 

“My own hubris led to my downfall, brother,” a booming voice echoes throughout the chamber. Azazel spins around and flaps his wings to bring himself to his feet. There is no one from his bed to the front door. He decides to creep towards the door to see if anyone is on the outside, but the voice speaks again, causing him to jump and turn around. “Michael can be beaten.”

There before him, appears to be the full body of the fallen archangel Apothael, the archangel of deception, and one of the three responsible for so many deaths in the Limbo War, along with Michael’s son, Zyel. 

“You’ve…fallen. Shouldn’t your form be different?” Azazel asks his brother. 

“The demons have been kind enough to let me keep my form,” Apothael replies. 

“Your wings aren’t even black,” Azazel observes, before folding his own wings in. “Or any different color.”

“Yes. Though you should remember, my wings were never black, even though I represented something dark that was necessary, like you, brother,” the archangel of deception tells the archangel of sacrifice. 

“I never understood that.”

“Do…you believe Michael’s wings should be black as well? The archangel of the military is no pure domain,” Apothael presses. Azazel ignores his brother’s question.

“How do you even have access to this dimension?” he asks. “Shouldn’t your demonic presence alert everyone? I can’t even sense you now.” 

There’s shouting and arguing outside Azazel’s door before his sisters, Lizael and Kayel burst into his chamber. Lizael is called The Iron Angel, the archangel of metal. Kayel, The Amber Angel, is the archangel of fire. Their wings are made of metal and fire respectively. Their personalities are also among the most “out there” of their siblings. Specifically Lizael’s.

“Kay, you can’t be serious. Burgers over tacos, any day of the week--”

The two sisters stop and their wings completely close and shiver at the sight of the deceiver. Kayel speaks first.

“What’s he--”

“Az,” Lizael starts, calling her sibling by her nickname for him. “You’re not…conspiring with him are you?”

“Of course not,” Azazel says, looking back at his sisters, then glaring at Apothael. “He just appeared in my chambers. I was just asking how he even has access to Heaven when he has fallen.”

The sisters look at each other nod. “We believe you,” Kayel says.

“But, we need to bring this to Michael,” Lizael says. As she says this and Azazel keeps his eyes on her, her eyes constrict as Apothael smirks, then disappears before her. Azazel reads her reaction and turns back around to see nothing but the vastness of his room. 

“I couldn’t sense him,” Azazel admits. Lizael nods, furrowing her brow.

“We need to hurry. He could still be hiding somewhere,” she says. The three fly off, leaving Azazel’s door wide open. A breeze blows into the room and the large drapes flow in the wind of the now empty room. 

“Mike!”

“There are very few that have called me that. And fewer that are allowed to continue calling me that,” Michael says to particularly no one yet. “And that voices tells me it’s--”

“Mike, dammit!”

“Lizael.”

Michael turns away from his anvil in his forge. Lizael, Kayel, and Azazel fly in, nearly blowing out the fires of the forge from their wings. Kayel notices this and lifts a finger to make the embers burn brighter. Michael slightly looks back at the flames and nods at Kayel.

“How may I help you all?” he questions. 

“Apothael.”

As soon as the name hits Michael’s ear, his tone drastically shifts from laid-back to serious. 

“Where and when?”

“In my chambers,” Azazel tells him. “Couldn’t sense him, but he appeared to be there.”

“For what purpose?” 

“He was…speaking of the war. Trying to make it seem like the war was your fault,” Azazel half-admits. “I think he wants you dethroned.”

Michael heavily exhales and stares at the somehow cleanly, marble floors of his forge. 

“So much for the thousand-year ceasefire,” he says. “They could not even respect a year.”

He looks up at the three. “Azazel, take Raziel and Seraphiel to send the demons a warning. Proceeding with whatever they’re planning would be cause for punishment for breaking the ceasefire.”

“Don’t you normally send Gabriel?” Azazel asks. “Or couldn’t you send a watcher angel? I don’t think Seraphiel should be leaving Metatron’s side.” 

“He’s busy elsewhere, at the moment,” Michael answers. “The watcher angels are not equipped to travel as far into Hell as you need to go. And Metatron is capable of taking care of herself.”