Epilogue

The amount of sweat rolling down Griswold Mapp's bearded face was reaching biblical proportions. By the time the prominent diplomat reached the meeting room, his suit was already completely soaked. He was not sweating like this because he was tired. No, this was just his body's natural reaction to sudden, intense fear. Just moments ago, he and several other members of the Giants' ruling party—the Buried Council—were notified of terrifying news. Namely, Heaven's most influential and infamous judge, the Templar, had fallen from grace. Griswold had met the Angel once or twice before during the peace summits, and even though he'd never admit it, the Cherub terrified him. It was his eyes that did it. Those cold, dark orbs seemed to pierce through to his very soul. The mere thought of them shook him to the core, and now that the Templar was damned as a Demon, that fear became even worse. And he wasn't the only one unnerved by this news. All of creation was simply abuzz with this horrible story. Especially the people in his line of work. "Ah, Mr. Mapp, did you hear the news?" one of his secretaries asked him as he rushed into his office.

"Yeah, I did. It's all everyone is talking about." Somehow, hearing another's voice seemed to calm his frazzled nerves. The tiny moon of Jupiter that he called home was one of the least populated spots in the solar system. So, such simple pleasantries were relatively rare. With a sigh, Griswold walked over to his old glass desk and nearly collapsed into his chair. In one fluid motion, he turned his seat around to look out of his office's single gigantic window. At times like this, he liked to gaze at the sky and scratch his beard. It helped him to forget things, even if only for a moment. "What a pleasant evening," the diplomat thought as he rested his tired eyes on Jupiter's beautiful visage. However, as soon as he did this, Griswold Mapp noticed something strange. "Now, what in God's name is that?" Unless he was going crazy, he swore that he could see the faint silhouette of an Angel floating high up in the sky right in front of Jupiter. But that was impossible. No Angel worth their salt would waste their time visiting a tiny backwoods moon like this. However, as the moments passed, Griswold found himself drawn to that hazy outline. He stood up in his chair, hoping to get a better view of the mysterious figure. "That's weird," the man mumbled as he squinted. Usually, that would be strange enough to gain his attention, but there was something else about this Cherub that caused his skin to crawl. For one, it appeared to him that the Angel's wings were burning, but that might've just been his eyes playing tricks on him. No… what drew his attention was what the Angel was holding. "Strange," he thought to himself, "why is that Cherub holding a sword?"