Azrael
Azrael had no choice. He gripped his neck and slammed them through the window, launching them into the sky. They ripped through the wind current. Azrael spun in the air after the shadow king smacked him in the side and shoved him. A fire erupted from his back, taking the form of a large bird with wings wide open, grabbing at his balance. The wrath surged through him like boiling lava.
The Shadow King has shadow coming out of his every body part in fumes, and he flies straight through the air with chilly arrogance, his shadows looming around him, regal and terrifying. He charged at Azrael, grabbing his fist, but “What I don’t understand,” he ground his teeth as he twisted Azrael’s hand, making him flinch. “What is it in this mortal woman? That takes such a long time to take her soul” He smacked his fist square across Azrael’s chest.
“You can’t have her; she’s mine!” Azrael charged at him, cutting through the pressure of the wind and sky, but he stopped it and slammed him with his flat hand, knocking the wind out of Azrael. The Shadow King grabbed Azrael with a malicious glint in his eyes and crashed them into the earth, digging an asteroid-sized hole.
Azrael opened his eyes, the dust had vanished, and the Shadow King stood before him, a chilly expression on his face. He stood up, ready to strike, and clutched his fist in the middle.
“You are no match for me, Rae.”
“Not her,” Azrael muttered.
“Give me one good reason; what makes her so special?”
Azrael notices a flash of light behind his dark eyes. Something He hadn’t seen in two thousand years, but it was a flash, like a light trick, and Sahir reverted to the mocking Dark Lord of the Lost Souls.
“She is not a lost soul,” Azrael replied, breathing labored.
“Are you certain?” He smirks. “She seemed lost to me when I saw her,”
“Please,” Azrael said, gritting his teeth.
“Has begging ever worked on me, Brother?” Sahir’s eyes were steely.
Close his eyes; Azrael knows nothing he says will stop him, and He is not powerful enough, but Natasha cannot go to that dreadful place. She does not deserve to go there. He clenched his jaw and charged once more. If he must fight him, he’ll do it.
“I said…” Sahir smacked him again.
“Stop fighting because I could just smite you,”
“Then go for it!” Azrael snatched him by the collar and stared into his frigid eyes. For Two thousand years, Azrael has been numb. He has been doomed to a barren realm and is bound to the darkness. He’s lost his warmth and his heartbeat. But since Natasha, things have changed. Since her, he feels. As He looks into his brother’s eyes, He feels desperation. He filled with wrath. He wanted to witness an ounce of kindness, an ounce of anything, from his brother.
“You will burn for her,” Sahir’s lips hooked into an upward curve, neither a smile nor a sneer, as if articulating a fact Azrael refuses to accept.
“Am I seeing things correctly? You’re ready to burn for her,” He gripped his wrist, practically crushing him in the process, prying himself off his grip, and brushed his collar, moving away nonchalantly.
“It’s heaven or hell for her, dear brother; make your choice since time is running out,” he shrugged and walked away. Blending into the shadows.
Natasha.
When she awoke, everything was as it should have been, with no burn traces on the floor. Except for the dryer on the floor, her dressing table appeared to be in order. The books and the desk are all stacked together. She frowned. Did she have another dream? The heat of the flames was more intense than ever. How could it be otherwise? That man, with his cold, hollow eyes. She trembled, attempting to shake the fear away. There was no proof that anything had happened here, let alone a fire set by an unknown man. The absence of evidence aggravated her racing heart. She yelped as her bedroom door opened.
Looking up, she noticed the black leather boots. She looked into blue-red eyes, overcome with relief. She made a strange noise as if the air had been pushed out of her lungs. She knew she was dying. It was all real, not a dream. She felt an emptiness shoot down to her gut and cuddled in bed, the warm tears falling unapologetic, and her throat clenched as she remembered everything.
She curled up in a ball with her blanket as if it would protect her from whatever was after her. She heard him place something beside her table. She had so many questions, but her throat refused to cooperate. He moves around the room as if he’s seen it a thousand times. He feels so familiar, like a protective presence, so the coldness vanishes. She gathered and tightened the bathrobe over her, as that was the only thing she was wearing. He sighed as she sat up, wiping her tears away.
The bed sagged, and she shifted away from him, even though every cell in her body begged her not to. She has no idea what is going on around her, and maybe she is hallucinating. Perhaps this is some elaborate, bizarre dream, or She is insane. He… She must remember that she does not know him.
“Don’t worry; he’s not coming,” His voice was neutral, but She could see he was trying to console her.
“Who was he?” She frowned. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice scratchy.
“Someone you don’t have to be concerned about,” She saw his hand moving towards her face, and her flesh burned in anticipation of feeling his touch while her heart blasted with the terror of the unknown. She crouched even more, and he retracted his hand.
“And you?” She looked him in the eyes.
“Someone you’d never see again,” he said. Natasha overcame with alarm when he turned away and grabbed his hand.
“Don’t go,” she said before she realized what she was saying, and he turned to meet her gaze. She had no idea what he saw, but a heartbeat passed, and he looked drained as he looked at their hands.
“I must be the most selfish creature in the universe,” He said, her voice so low she wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear it.
“What…” she said, his face just inches away from her. His hand touched her face so softly, lighter than a whisper of the lips, and as consuming as the heat of the fire, she could see the red shade in his blue eyes.
“I can’t help myself,” he said quietly. Natasha could feel his anguish against her lips, and her gaze refused to leave his. Those eyes captivated her and brought her back to earth. She inhaled his scent, the last spark of fire before it dissolved into ashes in the snow, and then she let it go. She curled her hand in his coat as her dread faded.
“What exactly are you saying?”
“You deserve to be in Realm of Light, but I refuse to take you.”
“Realm of Light?” she exclaimed, panting. Nothing makes sense, and she recalls having a similar conversation before. She sighs.
“Forgive me,” he said, his face troubled, and she could feel it in the waves coming for him, hitting her in the center.
“I don’t understand….” She takes a breath.
“Of course not; you don’t have to.” “I’ll make it alright,” He rose again, but not before She could stop him.
Crash!