Free Crimson Reign by J.T. Cheyanne, V.L. Moon Page A

leading to the foyer before turning in the direction the celestial had taken. Besides Laziel, only one other knew of the back entrance to the chapel. The Fallen One.
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    CHAPTER FOUR
     
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    Muscles rippled and flexed in the darkness as the mountainous form lying within the shadows flinched and coiled slowly into itself. Arial Nathanial, begotten son and now fallen celestial, writhed under the invisible assault from unseen hands. Lost to the throws of his ravaging dream, Arial screamed into the emptiness of the crypt's darkest depths when once again the torturous affliction of his curse paid homage to its owner.
    Swathed in the strips of his ragged torn wings, Arial moaned, locked within the never ending terror and agonizing pain as invisible hands inflicted their own brand of torturous pleasure. Agony seared through his once pure and Godly form until all that remained were the shredded remnants of angelic flesh now pooling with the foul toxic odor of demon spawned blood. Absently, and blinded by the pain, Arial reached out to search with futile yearning for the once comforting arms of his father’s loving embrace.
    When the frenzied sound of manic laughter blistered the air, the acrid stench of its foul and rancid breath permeated the crypt with his mother’s toxic curse.
    “Forever to be fallen and roam the bowels of a living Hell on Earth, I curse you Arial Nathanial. Ever more shall you feed on the flesh of your betrayal; you will find no redemption for the act of your sins. Never shall you grace the arch of our Creator’s ethereal light. You will scavenge the Earth consumed by the hunger for your carnal lusts. He, the one you succumbed to, shall be cast to the demons and only he will ever offer you the death you truly deserve. Even then, you will be cast from your father’s embrace. To him you are damnation, the warrior cast from the Creator’s grace, who walks in the shadows hiding from the guilt of your shame and disgrace.”
    As the vehemence in his mother’s voice waned, the degree of pain intensified. Arial knew what came next, had lived it every second of his fallen cursed life since that fateful day. Without delay, horrific pain tore through his wings to leave behind the ragged leathered mess. He opened his eyes to the world that awaited him and slammed his fists into the ground. He would not yield to the condemning persona of his mother’s discriminative scorn. True to his fallen nature, Arial cursed the abomination that bore him and spat out the remnants of his earlier demonic splurge, coating the ground with its oozing black mass. With internal loathing, Arial turned on two heavily booted heels and kicked through the heavy concrete slab shielding the covertly hidden entry. Once through the opening, Arial used the abundant strength of his will to close off the passage way that lead deep beneath the catacombs of Vatican Rome.
    Many a year, the Fallen had taken this very same path hoping to redeem himself and expose some semblance of his determination and grace. For Arial had once been a warrior and the noble traits that came with his training stayed true within him. For centuries after his wings were stripped and his body cast out of the heavens, he'd wandered the Earth watching the rise and fall of monarchs and the birth of new and somewhat strange world orders with their unusual beliefs. He'd fought wars amongst men on battlefields soaked in blood. He’d stood at the right hand of emperors and Kings as their protector and watched with an absent heart as they murdered their own kind. The merciless brutality of the human race saddened him. Even being cast out, the Fallen still bore the burden of his angelic heart. But, after what seemed an eternity, he held little or no hope for the future of their race. Until Laziel.
    The night the mighty Seraphim chose to walk the Earth, the heavens opened the expanse of its gates as angel song