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===================================================================== CATACLYSM An EARTHIAN fanfiction by Komadori-chan MD ===================================================================== Email: kchan_md@yahoo.com Archive: http://freewebz.com/disillusionment/ Warning: The following story is what some would call
sacrilegious for its content and may be found by some as rather offensive due
to the light in which I portray certain characters and events. If you happen to be extremely religious,
perhaps reading this may not be best for you.
I can’t stop you from doing so, but bear in mind that I have given you
fair warning. Pairings: (OC)LxM, RxM, UxG/U+G, R+G, KxC, M+A Disclaimer: Fanfiction is written for entertainment
purposes only and not for profit. Presented
characters and storylines were manipulated without permission. Unless otherwise stated, all related
content is exclusive property of Yun Kouga; all original portions of written
fiction are sole property of the author. Published: 10-01-01 ------------------------------------------------- Prologue: Shattered Ideals ------------------------------------------------- A glorious plumage of black liquid fire spread
out fully against the dying light of the celestial plane, both captivating
and drawing silence from all those still present on the soiled, bloody
battlefield—though some averted their eyes for fear of what those wings
represented. The misty field was tainted crimson with the blood of the
countless fallen—souls lost and crying out in agony from a great, abysmal
beyond—unreachable. The owner of those dark wings--a violet-eyed
entity of an ethereal air—stood amidst the scarlet haze with a defiant smile,
swaying slightly in the wind as he sized up his final opponent, who stood
stubbornly between him and his ultimate destination. A slight breeze stirred
a few errant, raven strands and ruffled them softly against his smooth cheek,
contrasting sharply with his fair skin. The smaller angel had fallen back into a
defensive crouch, drawing dangerously on the acid-edged blade of his sword as
he poised for strike. Silently, he struggled against the screaming protest of
his overtaxed muscles and viciously lacerated midsection, keeping his
attention fixed on the prone body by his enemy's side, reminding himself that
he needed to come to his partner's aid, no matter the consequence. His flaxen
locks were dull and matted with dust, grime, and sweat—falling heavily across
his cerulean eyes, but he was too focused on his enemy to care much for
vanity. Wincing at the burning sensation in his chest, he fought for balance
as he and the ebony demon continued to circle each other in a ritualistic
dance of dominance, the blood-streaked metal plating of his battle armor
clanking loudly with each limping step. Lucifer chuckled mirthlessly at the bruised,
battered form of his courageous rival... the archangel, Michael. As much as
he had favored the other before the Great Rebellion had come into being, he
could not feel much sympathy for him now. Truly, it was hard to empathize
with someone who did not even understand, or at least bring it up himself to
question, the reasons for his given tasking. Fanatical ignorance was not
something he had ever looked upon with any degree of favor... Especially coming from someone like Michael. It was a shame, really. Michael had so much
potential—being the honored prince and guardian of God’s Chosen... the most
highly regarded archangel next to himself—but, sadly, no mind of his own.
Just like the numerous other, blindly devoted puppies God had created for his
own sadistic purposes. Well, he'd see to it that when he took over, he and
his kind would have the freedom that they deserved—without God to rule over
them like empty, eternal slaves. "Release him, Lucifer!" Michael
roared, rage burning clearly in his sapphire eyes as he gazed intently on the
crumpled form suspended just inches above the ground within the black angel’s
unforgiving grip. A taunting smirk lit the edges of the Morning Son's mouth
at the pointless threat. "Of course, Dear Michael... but not
before I get what I want..." "I will not let you through,
traitor!" "Ah, but what of your partner here?"
Lucifer grinned purposely, lifting a hand to stroke back the ash blonde
tresses of his barely conscious captive. The battered young man he held so
possessively groaned weakly, straining to escape the gentle caresses his
captor was bestowing upon him—disgusted and somewhat distressed at how
soothing the touch felt. "Show them, little prince... show me your
wings..." Lucifer cooed silkily, still cradling his victim with feigned
affection—like a lover—against his chest—although, in reality, nothing could
be further from the truth—even as his eyes threatened to scorch the other
archangel with their corrosive, amethyst colored fire. "Show me your
power. Open them up for me—open up your arms and embrace me as your
master." Michael faltered slightly as Raphael's eyes
slowly met his and held, "D... Don't... Michael." He rasped,
choking violently as his own blood rose up into his throat, the product of
the massive internal injuries he had sustained during the fight—a death
rattle. "Quiet, Raphael!" Michael yelled,
his eyes squeezed shut against the horrible image before him. His breath came
in deep, hissing gasps as he clenched his teeth together, steeling himself
for this final confrontation. "I will not let you die!" "No—" Raphael tried again, only to
be cut off by the hand clamping down tightly around his throat. "Make your decision, Michael-sama. Your
beloved is dying," Lucifer said calmly, as if he were simply relating
the fact that there were countless stars in the sky, "You can have him
back and still save him; or he will die and I will overthrow Heaven
anyway." "No, don't do it, Michael!" Another
voice cut through the growing tension and all heads turned to see Gabriel and
Uriel standing at the edge of the field—looking worse for wear and struggling
to support each other, both having been gravely wounded in their own right--
just at the entrance of the Gates. "You can not sacrifice the Gates just
for Raphael!" Gabriel yelled desperately, restrained from running onto
the field himself by the insistent pull of Uriel's hands on his shoulders.
The three other archangels wisely stood back, tightlipped and unwilling to
interfere. "I can't just leave him out there!"
Michael retorted bitterly, turning to ignore his fellow archangels. "Michael, don't be stupid!" Uriel
screamed angrily, his hazel eyes flashing almost sepia with rage, "We
all don't want him to die, but you can't surrender the Gates of Heaven just
to save him! It would be a massacre!" "So I should just let him die!?"
Michael's voice was strained and thick with pain, his vision beginning to
blur at the edges—hot with unshed tears—as the agonizing realization dawned
on him: Raphael was truly beyond help. "It would be a capital offense against
Him if you listen to the Tainted One! You would be no better than the rest of
the betrayers!" Gabriel cried, though he was unconsciously clinging to
his own lover’s breastplate anxiously, as though fearing to lose Uriel to the
same fate as Michael would inevitably lose Raphael. "And would you betray the one you love
so, Michael? Would you let him die at my hand out of sheer cowardice?"
the black angel mocked, "Could he ever forgive you, knowing that you let
him be killed without trying to save him?" Oh, Lucifer had a silver tongue, all right. "No, I would not think so," Michael
agreed miserably. Vaguely, from somewhere behind him, he could hear Uriel
yelling something, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. His whole world
had dropped away until the only thing he could seem to see or really hear was
Raphael. He thought that perhaps Lucifer said something in reply, but it
sounded in his ears as nothing more than a faint, low buzzing. ‘Oh, Raphael,’ Michael mused sadly, ‘you were always so
strong—stronger than I could have ever been—but even I couldn’t let you die
this way...’ He paused a moment, seeing the horrified
expression on his mate’s face as he made his final, reluctant decision. ‘...Something tells me, though, that you already knew...’ Raphael saw the fatalist look in his lover’s
eyes a mere instant before Michael surrendered himself to the unmentionable
and struggled to deny it-- to stop it—but could only watch on in dismay,
unable to scream for the hand crushing his throat, cutting off his oxygen. "NO, DON'T DO IT!!!" Uriel shrieked,
sensing Michael’s thoughts, but the golden-haired archangel was no longer
listening. "Forgive me, Raphael..." Michael
whispered, smiling wistfully at the other as he relaxed his grip on his sword
and felt it slide dully from his hand. For what he was about to do, only an
eternity of suffering and punishment could come... but Michael knew without
question that for his love, Eternity was a minor sacrifice—even if Raphael
could not understand that just yet. He would gladly endure the full extent of
God’s wrath for a hundred thousand lifetimes in order to save Raphael in this
one. The sound of metal clattering to the ground
rang like a deafening boom throughout the realm and everyone watched on in
disbelief as Michael stepped forward to embrace Lucifer. There was a muffled
clinking as his breastplate fell away, unable to contain the sudden surge of
feathers as Michael allowed the true vision of his power to be unfurled, manifesting
in a blazing ivory display that easily rivaled Lucifer’s own midnight.
Several smaller angels cringed away, unable to look upon Michael’s true form
without suffering the inborn stab of fear and reverence. For it was certain death to look into the face
of a six-winged angel. Lucifer, however, was understandably
unaffected by this transformation—his own power giving him immunity against
the mortality granted by the white seraph’s gaze. ‘‘Not that you would ever truly wish me dead... would you,
Mika-chan?’ he mused absently, sliding his free arm around Michael’s waist
and effectively trapping the other firmly against him. ‘After all, this
really isn’t you...’ Within moments, Lucifer had relieved himself
of all other burdens, allowing Raphael to drop uselessly to the ground with a
hollow thud before pulling Michael securely into his embrace, spreading his
wings outward in warning against any who would dare interfere. "And now,
dear Michael..." Lucifer whispered, cupping the other man’s face with
one hand, "I’m going to bring you back to my side..." In a spill of gold-spun curls, Michael’s head
tipped back and Lucifer pressed his lips gently against the warm pulse that
beat in the other’s neck, and for an instant, he remembered... remembered a
time that could’ve been from another life, it was so hopelessly lost... It
was a time long forgotten in Michael’s heart... a memory cold and barren. ‘Why
did it have to come to this? Tell me what I did wrong, Mika? Just tell me
why...’ he thought bitterly as he found his mark and forced himself to
take it, knowing it was the only way he could ever hope to make his beloved
understand. Michael whimpered as he felt the sharp, cold
pain of something penetrating his flesh. This would be it... Lucifer was
beginning the deadly ritual that would drain him of his very spirit—but he
had the opportunity to stop it. Did he dare take it? Gasping softly, he slid his hands up behind
Lucifer’s neck, looking desperately for a way to anchor himself, even if it
did give the appearance that he was in more than one way surrendering himself
to his former lover. The arms around him tightened in instinctive reply, but
there was no indication otherwise that Lucifer would stop. That only left him
with one choice... Reaching up, Michael grabbed a hold of his captor’s top
set of wings at their bases and, with the last of his remaining strength,
gave a vicious tug. The Fallen leader's eyes went wide with horror
and he jerked away from his victim abruptly, howling in pain, the sudden
movement accidentally causing him to rip the side of Michael’s neck out with
his serpentine fangs. The archangel leader croaked feebly, his eyes glazing
over with a painful mixture of fear, regret, and contempt as he met Lucifer’s
gaze one last time before awareness fled him and he crumbled to the ground. So shocked was everyone else by this that only
Raphael seemed to notice the soft thud, that followed, of broken wings
falling onto the grass in a bloody heap beside Michael's lifeless body, their
sable feathers fluttering delicately in the wind as all the color drained
away into oblivion... And only Raphael experienced the horrible emptiness
passing through him as Michael's soul fled into the restless bowels of the
virgin netherworld. But so far-gone was he that he could not dredge up the
tears to cry for his lost lover—for Hell's first victim. ------------------------------------------------- "IYA!
MICHAEL-SAMA!" Kagetsuya was startled awake by the piercing sound of his
partner’s horrified screams. Bolting up, he threw back the bed sheets and
strained to focus his eyes. The screaming had stopped, but Chihaya’s distress
was still evident, manifested in the sniffling sobs and whimpers that came
from the right side of their bed. Shifting, Kagetsuya made out the shadowy
form of the dark angel at his side, sitting up with the sheets clutched
against his chest, bangs heavy and damp with cold sweat. Kagetsuya’s insides
crumpled. He already knew the source of his lover’s emotional disturbance...
and there was nothing he could do to help stay Chihaya’s nightmares. Reaching out, he wordlessly drew the other angelic youth into
the comforting circle of his arms, wishing silently that the gesture would
somehow be able to help—knowing that it was really all he could do to soothe
his frightened lover. Chihaya flinched at the first contact, going rigid with
anxiety, but when he realized who was holding him, he collapsed fully against
Kagetsuya, trembling and overflowing with passionate tears, "Make them
stop, Kagetsuya... oh please... make them stop..." "Was it the dreams again?" Kagetsuya asked,
tentatively stroking the rumpled violet-black locks away from the smaller
man's eyes while rocking him gently back and forth. They already both knew
the answer, of course, but the question still seemed necessary to broach the
rather uneasy subject. "Oh, Kage-sa..." Chihaya quivered, "He keeps
dying—I killed him!" "No you didn't, Chihaya. It wasn't you... besides, it was
just a dream. Michael-sama is alive and well. You know that better than
anyone else." "I know... but it felt so real—" "Shhh... just tell me what you saw this time." "I was—I mean, the black winged angel that looked like
me—was fighting Michael and... he forced him to betray God..." "How?" "He used Raphael-sama." "Oh?" "Michael-sama sacrificed his post to at the Gates to save
Raphael and was damned to Hell for it." "And what about the black angel?" "I don't know... I can’t remember much, except... except
he had six wings—him and Michael-sama both—but Michael-sama ripped two of
them off." Kagetsuya's eyes widened, "Did you say six?" "Yes... I'm sure that's what I saw... but that isn't
possible, is it Kagetsuya?" "No... but I'm sure that that was just symbolic, koibito.
Don't dwell on it." Kagetsuya lied, feeling the tiny hairs on the back of
his neck prickling. ‘Six wings? That’s the ancient mark of a Seraph... But
there haven’t been any Seraphim around since biblical times... then again,
there weren’t very many Seraphim to begin with...’ "Come now, I’ll hold you tonight, if you’d like,"
Kagetsuya smiled encouragingly into the darkness, knowing that Chihaya
couldn’t really see him. "I’d like that very much, thank you." And for a long time after Chihaya had drifted back into fitful
slumber, Kagetsuya lay there, wide-awake, silently contemplating the severity
of this newest revelation. ‘Even for a dream... how could there ever be an evil
Seraph? Is that even possible? And why would it look like Chihaya?’ ... to be
continued... << | Return to
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