0 Kiss of the Dead

Devastation 

Stunned by the explosion, Ablon rose from the ground, shaky and in pain. Spit out some blood 

on the burnt ground and stretched out its fluttering wings. He felt terrible, but he was still alive. The breath 

He was also returning with difficulty, and he took a deep breath, only to feel the disastrous taste of the polluted air. 

But where was it? What had happened? Suddenly, he lost track of time and space. 

He looked around and saw a landscape of horror — a gray desert, with rough terrain, covered 

by ruins and splinters. The sky was closed by a dark, deep and poisonous cloud, which left 

the plain in lunar shadow. The weather had cooled, and a strange dust descended to the surface, imitating a 

sinister, heavy, leaden snow. 

He then realized that something had changed, not only in the setting, but in the universe. The fabric of reality 

had fallen, and the two worlds—the physical and the spiritual—were now one. In the distance, he saw the 

rubble of the holy city of Jerusalem, uninhabited and annihilated. But how was it destroyed? It would have been 

devastated by the energy of Apollyon or by the blast of the Seventh Trumpet, the last of the human bombs? 

The general did not look for the answer, nor would he find it. Perhaps the Destroyer and his weapon were indeed the 

Final Trumpet, and he, the one responsible for the cataclysm and the termination of the mortal species — or 

maybe not. 

On the esplanade, millions of bodies, celestial and mundane, severed and mutilated, were spread out. THE 

The blood of angels mixed with the blood of men, reddening the blackness of the earth. 

Sunk in the scorched sand, the warrior found an intact volume amidst the devastation. He 

pulled out and analyzed the cover. It was the Book of Life, designed to confuse the wicked, blinded by their own 

greed. Resisting the temptation to open the compendium, the general kept it with him, turned south and 

He headed towards the wreckage that, shortly before, was the impregnable fortress of the Celestial Prince. 

Shamira — would she have survived? 

His heart sank, and he realized his ultimate failure. Even flying, running at full speed 

speed, the cherub had not been able to reach Zion. 

Only a miracle would have preserved the Enchantress of En-Dor. 

He shot to the ruins, and from the sky he saw three figures, among them ishim Aziel and his former master, Amael, 

the Lord of Volcanoes. They were gathered before a round stone table — the Wheel of Time —, 

which now lay on the desert floor, amazingly preserved after falling from the pinnacle. Right 

relics are so special that they never break, even when attacked by the most terrible disasters. 

The renegade felt a stab cut into his spirit, as he noticed that Aziel was laying a young woman on the ground — 

a girl with white skin and black hair — and closed her eyes. 

— I tried to save her, general — said the ishim, when Ablon landed next to him and took the necromancer in his arms. 

lap. —But your human body could not resist the explosion. 

The entities remained silent. 

Dead! Shamira was dead! The Reborn didn't want to believe it, but it was the purest truth. The sorceress 

he had abandoned him and would never return. Where would his soul have gone? There, kneeling, he felt like 

to rescue her, to bring her back, so that they could experience everything they didn't experience, so that they could 

finally found the tranquility they had dreamed of. 

But he couldn't revive her, really. 

And now, what would you do? How would his miserable life continue? What strength would I have to continue living? 

this world? 

He finally understood the exact feeling of his beloved, having him at her feet, bleeding, on the edge of the road. 

death, in the atrium of the Roman house. In fact, death is much more painful for those who remain, and 

certainly not somber for the deceased. He understood, therefore, that his tears would not help his 

heart, much less the poor woman. 

— You did your part, sorceress. Go in peace to eternal rest," he whispered and kissed her between his 

lips. 

That was the only real kiss since they met. 

The kiss of the dead. 

The Twilight of Times 

There were the three entities, in the destroyed field, around the Wheel of Time, survivors of the 

great catastrophe, veiling the body of the Enchantress of En-Dor. They had won the war, defeated the 

enemies, stripped the tyrants, but at what price! 

Like their oppressors, the rebels had also been defeated. The archangels' project 

had finally come to fruition, despite the ruin of its architects. Humanity had finally been liquidated, as 

the wicked leaders planned. 

But now the seventh day was over. And this was the twilight of time—the decline of the universe. 

Aziel stopped in front of the stone relic, marked with the Malakins' secret code. So close, the 

The wheel looked more like a clock, engraved with ancient runes and cosmic symbols. During the entire course of 

history, the circle had been spinning, but now it rested, static on its axis. 

— So, this is the famous Wheel of Time — ventured the ishim, when the mood of sadness calmed down. 

He had never admired the artifact up close and realized that, even inert, the energy remained latent in the 

rock. —Your mystical strength is magnificent. That's why Miguel wanted to steal her from the Malakins' sanctuary in 

Sixth Heaven and bring her to Sion. Whoever held the wheel would hold the power. 

— The Wheel of Time is the greatest relic left by God — confirmed the renegade. 

Amael looked up and then returned his attention to the rubble of Mount Mcgiddo. 

—What happened to the three armies? — asked the Lord of Volcanoes. He and Aziel had no 

watched the duel, only the explosion. The pile of dead indicated the fate of the legions, but who would have been the 

herald of destruction? 

— They are all dead — explained the general. — Apollyon was the agent of the conspiracy, the Dark Angel, 

chosen by the archangels to hunt down the mortal survivors, the falling fabric of reality—and 

tilted his head. — Miguel would not fall into the same mistake he made in the flood, when he despised the 

reproduction capacity of human beings, and they returned to populate the planet. 

Aziel looked at the cold palms, once filled with fire. 

— Together, we triumphed in the Battle of Armageddon. We completed our mission, but we failed 

keep the world from extinction. The great values ​​were thrown to the ground. 

Ablon stared at the necromancer's icy face, struck by her beauty, even in the coldness of death. 

It was as if she still lived, and truly lived, somewhere in his heart. Touching her soft face, the 

Cherub revived the ritual in his apartment, when the girl brought the Celtic spirit to the pentagram - 

Korrigan, an entity with prophetic abilities. 

—There is hope——whispered the Reborn. The murmur was almost a sigh. 

— How? — asked the ishim. — How are we going to bring the dead back to life and rebuild a planet 

infertile? We are angels, not gods. 

The general agreed with his friend, but not entirely. 

— This universe is devastated, but the truth is uncertain. In infinity, paths never lead to 

same place nor do they run in one direction. 

The three were silent, until Amael deciphered: 

— The Wheel of Time. Do you think we could get it back? 

- Perhaps. 

— But only a god can move it — reacted the Sacred Flame. That's what everyone always said. 

Ablon had learned many things on his journey, but above all to disbelieve in destiny, in the paths 

drawn up, along already determined routes. I preferred to believe in the reverse, trust in free will, in the ability to 

build your own future. Even though he was not human and was trapped by his angelic nature, 

He believed in freedom of decision. 

— And what we are now — Amael interpreted. — That's what we became. We surpassed the archangels, and 

Now there is no one who can surpass us. Here, we are gods. Faceless gods, without followers. 

— We ended up becoming what we fought so hard for our enemies not to become: 

gods of a world in ashes — completed the First General, looking at the dark sky. In addition 

From the clouds, the sun rose, but its light did not reach the earth. The globe had become an icy greenhouse, 

plunged into darkness, ravaged by nuclear winter and contaminated by radiation from human bombs. 

While they were deliberating, they saw a golden point on the horizon, which shone like a star in the night. 

closed. His energy was kind, kind, and the three felt welcomed. The glow glided towards them, and 

Suddenly even the contorted landscape seemed to come together. 

That was the living glow of an angel, an ofanim — the most pious winged caste. They weren't 

warriors, much less politicians, but guardians dedicated to the assistance of men and the protection of 

needy. His eyes were like copper pebbles, and golden braids ran down his long tunic. 

white. The wings had their own shine and opened like silver leaves. 

When he landed, even old Amael recognized him. Even though he is far from the sky, the Lord of Volcanoes does not 

he had forgotten the sparkling beauty of Nathanael, the Most Pure. 

— Nathanael... It is preserved — said Ablon. 

— I didn't go to combat — clarified the shiny being. — I continued at a distance, in the cave on Mount 

Horeb, near the rebel camp. So I escaped the explosion. Furthermore, I am able to 

transform into pure light, making my entire body absolutely immaterial. 

Nathanael's arrival was a blessing in a time of so much distress. The ofanim was one of the most 

celestial wise men, which is why he was selected as Gabriel's direct assistant. The Master of Fire 

He had appointed to accompany, from the astral plane, every step of the Savior, until his martyrdom on the cross. It was because 

It was because of his mission that the Most Pure One could not meet Ablon on the Mount of Olives, when 

his first trip to the Holy City. Afterwards, Nathanael was at the head of the legions that escorted the 

Huminated to paradise. The Messenger entrusted the affairs of the spirit to the Ofanim, and to Varna the matter of the 

war. 

— Enlighten us, Nathanael, with your infinite prudence —Ablon asked. — I'm just a warrior and I don't 

I see the mysteries of the cosmos very well — he pointed to the stone relic. — We can go back to 

Wheel of Time? 

"Now you three are sovereign," he declared. — They are a supreme trinity, omnipotent and 

imperishable. The seventh day is over, and the old laws have fallen. It's up to you to find the decision. If here 

If they stay, they will be able to try to remake a devastated universe. If they backtrack, a new chance will open up for 

civilization. But know, O giants, that if you return you will not remember the future. Your mind will be 

erased until the point at which they decide to return. Destiny is indecipherable. 

— But if we return, without awareness of the future, how can we guarantee the righteousness of our actions? 

— asked Aziel. — How will we know that, in the end, the situation will not bring us to this same end point? 

— Miguel died because he surrendered to his fate — warned the First General. - We are not like 

We will build our road, our values, in this or another existence. 

A long pause followed, as dark snow fell from the clouds. Then, Amael confessed: 

— I never forgave myself for following Michael's orders and Lucifer's commands. I executed the flood, 

under the attention of the archangels. My sins are now irreparable. But if I had a new one 

opportunity, I would face them. 

— And I would help him — replied Aziel, regretting that one day he had turned his back on his beloved master. 

Over the desert, gray dust descended. Sion was all splinters, a smoking mess of columns and 

blocks, like a red-hot fire that goes out in the early morning dew. 

— General, you were the leader of the brotherhood and the icon of the rebels — said Nathanael. — It's yours 

final word. 

Korrigan — thought the Reborn. During the magical ritual, the Celtic spirit had predicted the impasse, but 

did not present any solution. He didn't even need to — the warrior's will was obvious. He was a hero, and 

As such, he dedicated his life to the world. For centuries, he had given up on happiness to pursue an ideal. 

He had denied freedom, and even love. And now, finally, he would have the long-awaited rest. 

His mission was accomplished. 

Together, the three girded the Wheel of Time, under the inspiring light of the ofanim. 

And they spun her around.