|Into the Light
Author: Hawki PM
Oneshot: Demons are foul creatures, bringing nothing but death and destruction. Then again, sometimes angels aren't much better.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Malthael - Words: 501 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 3 - Published: 01-14-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6652060
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Into the Light
It's to be expected really. With Baal's forces having invaded Mt. Arreat, only two options are available for its defenders-fight or flight. Considering that the latter option may lead to a situation where flight may be a moot point. So, like my kin, I fought. And like many of my kin, I've been trampled by the hordes of Hell, fated to die a lonely death in the snow of the north.
I feel cold. Not from the climate, which I've had all my short life to get used to. It's the feeling of death itself, its icy grasp reaching into my soul. The creeping darkness, the fading sound of the world of the living, the…light reaching for me…
"Come into the light my son."
"Fear not, mortal. I am your salvation."
I can't help but feel a bit confused at this. Firstly there's no-one still alive that would have a legitimate claim to call me "son." Secondly I can't come into the light considering that I can barely move. Thirdly, the light is coming all around me, so I can't really come into it when it's coming into me. Fourthly…well, it's an angel that's appearing in the midst of all this light, so that should speak for itself.
Death would be a life changing experience if that wasn't a contradiction in terms.
"Who…who are you?" I whisper hoarsely, yearning for water to touch my lips instead of blood.
"I am Malthael, an archangel," the faceless saviour announces, golden light extending from his gloved hands. "I am here to save you from oblivion."
I'm tempted to point out the bittersweet nature of this mercy. Sure, this angel is kind enough to save me from death, but where was this service in regards to protecting the Worldstone from Bael? The mortal realm must fight its own battles, but for all their hatred of Chaos, the High Heavens don't really make it that apparent.
Oh well. Don't bite the hand that feeds. Or heels, as the case is.
"There, my child," the angel declares, withdrawing his hands of healing from my no longer broken body. "You are fit to rejoin the mortal realm."
"I…you…thank you…" I stammer, feeling awkward at my lack of eloquent thanks for a servant of Heaven. "How can I thank you for this?"
"None of this is real," the angel sniggers, seemingly grinning despite the blank stare. "You're delirious from blood loss and your feeble mortal mind has conjured me up to give you comfort in your last moments. In essence, you're screwed."
As the angel fades, as death finally takes me, I realize one final truth that I'll take with me to my grave.
Angels can be as bad as demons…and twice as annoying.