Duty

Azarel stood silently at the edge of a crystalline balcony, gazing over the endless expanse of Asphodel. The realm stretched before him, bathed in an eternal light that shimmered and danced across towers and courtyards, creating a breathtaking tapestry of brilliance. Yet today, its beauty felt strangely distant, muted by the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed his mind.

A gentle rustle of feathers broke the quiet. Azarel glanced over his shoulder to find Brisco approaching with measured, calm steps. The elder angel's presence was always soothing, a balance of wisdom and quiet strength. His wings, edged in deep sapphire blue, gleamed subtly under Asphodel's perpetual daylight.

"Azarel," Brisco began softly, his voice kind yet serious. "Walk with me."

Without questioning, Azarel followed Brisco along the corridor of carved marble, lined with arches entwined by radiant vines that bloomed perpetually with glowing blossoms. They reached a small chamber, lit by ambient golden light, private and quiet—clearly a place intended for important conversations.

Brisco gestured toward a seat, and Azarel settled hesitantly, sensing the gravity in his mentor's manner. Brisco took a deep breath, studying Azarel carefully before speaking.

"You've been with us for nearly a year, Azarel," Brisco began thoughtfully, his gaze gentle yet penetrating. "And yet, there are many things about our world that remain unclear to you. It's time you understood."

Azarel leaned forward slightly, intrigued but cautious. "It felt I was not meant to ask questions, I was just ready to follow instructions. However I wondered why I was never taken outside the training temples. I don't really know anything beyond this walls."

Brisco exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. "First, you must realize that Asphodel and Kur'thaal, while significant, are merely two realms among many within this plane of reality."

Azarel's brow furrowed slightly, curiosity flickering in his silver eyes. "Other realms?"

"Indeed," Brisco affirmed. "There is a realm called Earth, inhabited by beings unlike ourselves—humans, who once revered us as gods. We angels visited them long ago, sharing our knowledge, guiding them, and receiving worship in return. But our war with Kur'thaal forced us to retreat, abandoning that world to its fate."

Azarel absorbed this quietly, intrigued and confused by the revelation. "Why abandon them completely? Could we not return someday?"

"Perhaps," Brisco said, somewhat regretfully. "But our duty is here, to protect Asphodel from the shadows. And there's something more important you must understand—your very origin and purpose."

Azarel shifted uneasily. "My origin?"

Brisco nodded solemnly. "Most angels in Asphodel are born as other species, through natural means. Female angels carry and give birth to their offspring here, just as it happens elsewhere. But there are special angels—celestial angels, like yourself—born directly from celestial bodies. Usually asteroids, occasionally comets, and in very rare instances—like yours—stars or even black holes."

Azarel stared, absorbing the weight of this revelation. "So my birth from a star—it's unusual?"

"Exceptionally so," Brisco confirmed. "Your star's essence endowed you with unique power. You can amplify light, harnessing and magnifying it far beyond ordinary limits. Similarly, Seraphine inherited the strength of her comet's mineral core, allowing her to emit powerful beams of energy. Each celestial angel inherits such remarkable abilities."

Azarel's heart quickened. This explained so much—his power, his difference. But one thing still troubled him. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Brisco regarded him with a measured look, filled with both kindness and expectation. "Celestial angels have always held significant symbolic value in Asphodel. More than simply warriors, they are symbols of hope, unity, and strength. It is tradition—more accurately, duty—for celestial angels to be paired, uniting their powers to inspire our people and to bear celestial children into our realm."

Azarel's chest tightened as realization dawned on him. "Are you saying that I must... get paired?"

"Yes," Brisco replied gently but firmly. "It has been decided that you and Seraphine should wed. Not merely for yourselves, but for the morale and future of Asphodel."

Azarel sat in stunned silence. He respected Seraphine immensely, admired her strength and determination, but love? Such a thought had never crossed his mind. Yet, as he reflected, he recognized the logic, the inevitability of this decision. Their union would symbolize strength and unity, reinforcing the resolve of every angel in Asphodel as war loomed ever closer.

"Do you understand?" Brisco asked softly, sensing Azarel's turmoil.

Azarel nodded slowly, though his heart still ached with uncertainty. "I understand."

Brisco placed a reassuring hand on Azarel's shoulder, warmth radiating from his touch. "Duty is often heavy, Azarel, but in fulfilling it, you serve a purpose greater than your own desires."

As Brisco left him, Azarel remained in contemplation, staring into the distant skies. The notion of marrying Seraphine, borne out of duty rather than passion, unsettled him deeply. But he recognized his role, his responsibility. The future of Asphodel weighed heavily upon him, more than ever before.

His heart whispered quietly, a faint voice of longing for something he had glimpsed in the shadowed visions of Kur'thaal—eyes that burned like embers, a connection he could not yet comprehend. Yet, he silenced that whisper, burying it deep within.

Duty called, and Azarel would answer, even if it meant setting aside his heart's quiet yearnings. He would marry Seraphine, inspire their realm, and hope that someday, his heart might find peace within the role fate had chosen for him.

Azarel left the palace quietly, stepping into the cool evening air. The sky was still aglow with the fading light of Asphodel's eternal day, but the temperature had dropped just enough to bring a welcome chill. He needed a moment alone to clear his mind, to process the weight of the conversation he'd just had with Brisco. He could feel the weight of his duty settling deeper in his chest, the promise of his marriage to Seraphine looming on the horizon.

As he walked through the manicured pathways of Asphodel's gardens, his mind swirled with thoughts of the future. He could not escape the fact that his life had been mapped out for him, that his union with Seraphine was expected, not just for personal reasons, but for the realm. There was no room for uncertainty, no space for desires or dreams outside of the celestial duties that had been entrusted to him.

He wandered aimlessly, the scent of blooming celestial flowers filling the air, their petals glowing faintly in the twilight. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the figure ahead of him until it was too late.

Azarel turned a corner sharply, and in that moment, he collided with something—someone.

He stumbled back slightly, catching his balance just in time. His silver eyes met the blue gaze of Seraphine, her expression unreadable as always. She had been walking the garden, just as he had, lost in her thoughts.

"Azarel," she said, her voice as calm and composed as ever, though there was a hint of surprise in her tone. "I didn't expect to find you here."

He stepped back, straightening his posture. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he replied, his voice soft but firm. He could tell that she wasn't bothered by the collision, but something in her stance, the way she held herself, made it clear that she preferred keeping things as composed as possible.

"No harm done," Seraphine said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "But I assume you've been informed of our new mission?"

Azarel nodded, though he could feel the weight of his earlier conversation with Brisco pressing on him. "Yes," he said. "I have been."

Seraphine's eyes flickered, her expression momentarily softening. She took a step closer, but there was a certain wariness in her posture. She was always so poised, so in control, and yet, Azarel could sense the struggle beneath it. There was more to her than the unshakable warrior persona she showed the world.

She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice quieter. "I know you've been trained to lead, to inspire. And I have no doubt you'll make a good partner on the battlefield."

Azarel's gaze softened. He saw the way her jaw tightened, as though she were holding something back. There was more she wasn't saying, more behind her words than she was willing to admit.

"We will make a good team," Azarel said, his voice steady but reassuring. He wasn't certain of their union, nor was he certain of what Seraphine expected from him, but he understood that together, they could make Asphodel stronger. He didn't mention lovers—he didn't even consider it. They were partners, bound by duty and expectation. But even so, a strange sense of calm washed over him as he spoke.

Seraphine regarded him for a long moment, her golden eyes searching his face as if weighing his words. "Yes," she finally said, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips. "A good team."

Azarel nodded, his heart still heavy, but for the first time since the weight of his responsibilities had been thrust upon him, he felt a small flicker of reassurance. They would work together, for the realm. Perhaps that was enough.

Seraphine stepped back, her expression returning to its usual unreadable calm. "I'll see you on the battlefield, Azarel."

"Until then," he replied, watching as she turned and walked away, her golden wings gleaming in the fading light. He stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, feeling an inexplicable pull in his chest. But it wasn't love. It was something else. A bond forged by duty.

With a deep breath, Azarel turned away, heading back to the palace, knowing that his destiny, and Seraphine's, would soon be forever intertwined.