*~*Dark Archangel*~*

by AthEnA1999

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.  I wish I did.

Intro: OK, this is a combination of things.  They are Forever Virus, Gate of Destiny, and some random events from various TV shows that gave me more ideas.  I remember one of the shows is X-Men: Evolution, which is one of my absolute favorite shows in the world.  And though most of this will be written in… like… January (hopefully it won't stretch into summer), this will still be sort of a holiday fic as well.  Finally, I would like to dedicate this story to my little circle of friends here on fanfiction and all Myo fans out there!  (I guess Wiz fans can be included too!)  Oh, BTW, though the first chapter mainly centers around Wizardmon… AU FIC ABOUT MYOTISMON!!!!!!!  It takes place the winter after Season 01, shortly before Christmas, in both the digital world and the real world.  Oh, and it has a surprise villain!  Hope you like it, despite its chapter length!  Enjoy!


Chapter 1

The Spell

  I have heard the saying that there is a bit of good in everyone, thought Wizardmon.  He blinked his jade-green eyes and brushed his straw-colored hair out of his ash-colored face.  They have made one exception.  I know that he is pure evil, with not a grain of righteousness within, even filling those who come near him with hatred.  They think he is an angel at first sight, what with his appearance and such, but when they finally get to know the digimon which he truly is, they come to realize that such an evil being should not belong in this world.  Cast him into the fires of hell, pure damnation and torment is what he must endure for all he has done.  No digital god can change his ways at all.

  The digimon whom the young wizard was thinking of did have an angelic appearance, or so it seemed.  From far away an unsuspecting digimon or the female humans who were attracted to him in a way that no asexual being would ever experience or know of.  They saw the moonlight shimmering on his locks of blonde hair that appeared to have been spun from gold threads, with the three stray strands that hung in his face that made him appear even more handsome than he did.  They looked closer, and saw two piercing blue eyes that could send shivers down the bravest man's spine with a single glance.  His pallid skin tinted with blue made him seem like he was made from the very sky in the heavens that sent him to Earth or Digiworld.  With an even closer glance, the woman could see how handsome this mysterious angelic stranger was, with his perfectly-chiseled face without a single blemish.  He could have seemed even more perfect without the crimson mask that covered his eyes and the disturbing secret of the past that ran between them in the form of a scar.  The woman's eyes met his, and suddenly, with a slight shiver, she felt herself mesmerized by everything he did.

  He is no angel.

  In a trance, this unsuspecting female would draw closer, attracted to his eyes.  Suddenly, she felt two arms encircle her body… two well-muscled arms that felt so firm and secure, she wished to be with this man forever.  She still stared into his eyes until a surprise crossed her eyes.  Out of his mouth protruded twin pearly fangs, glinting in the moonlight.  She wanted to run, but also stay with this stranger.  As she struggled over the dilemma of her mind and her heart, she felt cold breath on her neck, then two sharp points pierce the tender flesh on her neck.

  Absolutely no angel, and I'll be damned if he ever will be.

  The man could taste the blood running down the side of her neck into his mouth, and the taste was so heavenly, yet so sinful.  Blood was his sustenance, and he loved everything about it: the taste, the consistency, and the way the woman would scream just so as her tender porcelain flesh was pierced.  Lightheaded and delirious, she took one last gaze at this demonic angel and fell to the ground.  With a soft swish of his black cape, the blonde man returned to his dragon-drawn stagecoach.

  Wizardmon bowed his head, reminiscing about when he had witnessed that event.  He had never truly been converted from a good digimon to an evil digimon like myriad of the other henchmen had been, so he had felt empathy for the being that had come within an inch of Death, and nearly cried when they left without a trace except for the wisps of fog in the moonlight, which dissipated within seconds.

  His name is feared.  His name should be despised enough to be cursed.  Malevolent, tYrannical, Ominous, Treacherous, Immoral, Satanic, Malignant, Outrage, Nefarious.  Every one of those words describes him exactly.  The entire universe would be better off without him.

  "WIZARDMON!" rang out the voice that belonged to the Master which he loathed so much.  The voice was a deep voice that was beautiful yet haunting, so full of authority, so firm, so full of authority…

  The wizard knew that his Master wanted him, and it would be yet another punishment that he would receive purely for existing in the cruel digital world.  He strode to the upstairs hall, where a lanky figure was concealed by the shadows at the top of the stone stairs.

  Stone… his castle is made of stone, exactly like his heart.  If he has one.

  The figure stepped into the light, and the Master was shown in his full handsome and nearly angelic glory.  "Explain yourself," he commanded in his voice, full of superiority.

  "Explain myself to what?" inquired Wizardmon, his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest and thumping all the way in his ears.

  "You must explain why you do not execute the plans I wished you to."

  "Please… master… "  I never want to see his face again.

  "You will pay for this some way or another," said the Master.  He extended an arm, and a shrieking black cloud covered with red eyes flew out at the wizard, nipping at his flesh with every touch.

  "Oh no… bats… THUNDER BALL!"  Wizardmon took his staff, which allowed a ball of thunder to erupt from the sun ornament on top and shoot at the bats, electrocuting them all.  Every last bat fell to the ground like a soggy black leaf.

  The vampire's blue eyes narrowed as he glared at the wizard.  He smiled to himself when he saw Wizardmon shiver when he looked up at him in the eye.  The wizard was frightened beyond his wits when he saw his master angry, because there would be a dire consequence that would most definitely involve exterminating a life in some way or another.

  "No angel… no angel…" Wizardmon repeated to himself as he sprinted down the hall and out of sight.  He could run, but never hide, from his master.  The Master was feared across the digital world, and not one soul could find the courage within to speak his name, which could strike fear into their hearts.  He was the feared Vampire Lord of Server, and considered the evillest, most villainous, and the most powerful digimon in the digital world.  He was one of a kind, a mon unlike any other mon.  He was the legendary ultimate known by the one feared name: Myotismon.

  And it was on one very night in the digital world that everything the vampire lord stood for would change, along with everything he was known for.

  "CRIMSON LIGHTNING!"  He let the glowing crimson whip fly through the air, hit the flesh of one of his weaker servants that was a feeble Gazimon with a broken leg.  He had not done his job in such a way to please the vampire lord, so the consequence was, and always had been, punishment.  The Gazimon lost his balance and fell to the ground, blood beginning to run through his dust-colored fur and stain it red.

  Wizardmon appeared in the doorway, breathless.  He had heard the small rabbit's cries for help and knew that that henchman was about to be tortured half to death, or even tortured to death if he was weak enough.  "You hold it right there, Myotismon," he commanded, yet his fear could be heard in the waver of his voice.

  A shiver traveled down his spine as the vampire turned his head towards him, narrowed his eyes, and glared his coldest stone-hearted scowl that could send even the bravest digimon or human back a few meters in step.  The wizard edged a few steps back before he saw a flash of red before his eyes and got knocked onto the cold, hard stone floor by the Crimson Lightning.  His mind heard a loud staticky noise as his vision clouded over by black and brightly-colored sparks.  The wind got knocked out of him, and as he struggled to regain his breath and perception, he heard a loud, shrill shriek, and then the deep laughter that was nearly as frightening as Myotismon himself.

  He knew it was too late.  The wizard knew that the Gazimon had been reconfigured, and as he opened his eyes he saw… nothing.  Not a trace of the Gazimon on the floor, not a lock of his fur nor a splatter of blood.  Then he saw Myotismon retract the whip of Crimson Lightning into his hand and then advance on him.  The vampire loomed over Wizardmon at his full seven feet, seeming more intimidating by the second.

  "Please… master… take pity on me… I have done nothing!" pleaded Wizardmon, holding his hands together as if in prayer.

  "You have not seen a thing.  Leave immediately, wizard scum."  This time, the tone of the master's voice had softened and become less intense, which was quite frightening for an unknown reason among the henchmen in his castle.

  There seemed to be nothing that he could do.  He could have saved the Gazimon if he hadn't shouted out until later… but it was all over.  He silently walked down the dark, torch-lit stone halls of the castle until he reached his cell in the prison cell in the dungeon where he had resided ever since he was kidnapped.  He was fortunate that his cell was not occupied by more than one digimon, for nearly every other cell had more than one prisoner, all stuffed inside wherever they could be.  Everything about it was discomforting, and it was equally discomforting for Wizardmon to think of.

  He looked around his small dungeon cell, with one side completely consisting of thick tarnished metal bars that could not be squeezed through.  The other three walls were made of stone, except for the one across from the barred wall.  There was a small window that had the same bars on them, but the bars were redundant because the window was too small for him to slip through.  On the floor there was a thin straw mat that was supposed to be a bed, two empty clay dishes that were for his infinitesimal servings of bread and water, and what appeared to be blood stains that could not come out.  Nothing was more miserable than life in that melancholy cell, having no other company besides the other prisoners.

  The other prisoners in the castle were just as despondent, if not more, than the wizard was.  Most of them were injured in some way or another, and their wounds were either ignored or poorly treated.  It had been worse than ever, despite the fact that is was nearly Christmas in the real world.  That time of the year was when the humans became friendly towards each other, wishing everyone who passed a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year in some way or another.  Snow gently fell upon the ground… little kids played in it and threw balls of packed snow at each other and the disgruntled passersby… adults put up decorations around the interior and exterior of their homes and shopped for presents for the family… older children grew restless and excited as the one-and-a-half-week vacation drew nearer with each passing day.  Evergreen trees covered with ornaments were displayed in every Christian family's home, with a glowing star or angel perched on the pinnacle.  Wreaths were hung on their doors, adorned with a red velvet bow… brightly-colored lights were hung everywhere, and when the lights went out, a rainbow of light could be seen from hundreds of feet away.  Younger children's stockings were hung over the fireplace, but not too close as to be burned by the soft orange and vermillion flames of the fire that was lit.  Large groups of people wandered the streets and sang Christmas carols, both religious and traditional.  Families got together, delicious foods were cooked, everyone received wonderful presents… everyone was happy and had that warm fuzzy feeling inside, much like an inner glow.

  Wizardmon wished to experience something like that in the digital world.  Sadly, no digimon had ever celebrated a human holiday before, but it still would not make too much of a difference even if they did, for his master would still act as callous and cruel as ever.

  As he remembered the events of that day, staring up at the small sliver of the moon that shone faintly outside the castle window, he kneeled down onto his straw mat and began to pray to the digital gods.  He had constantly heard the desperate pleas from the other cells of the castle, but most of them were to leave this horrible place, or to be with their families and friends again.  Wizardmon had no family to his name, with the exception of his brother Auramon who was safe with his human partner in the real world.  Nor had he any friends, except for his best friend Gatomon and the not-too-well-known acquaintances of the digi-destined and their digimon.  Every last one of those digimon had been reconfigured before their prayers had been truly answered, whether it would be to escape or be reunited.  Maybe they had, for that might be the only way to escape the hades of the castle.

  "To the honorable Ebonwumon, Baihumon, Zhuquiaomon, and my guardian Azulongmon, the almighty Goddramon and the Angemons and Angewomons, Seraphimons and Cherubimons, and all celestial digital beings, a prayer is asked unto you," prayed Wizardmon with his eyes closed and his hands folded, kneeling on his straw mattress without a single movement except for his mouth.  "I am only a champion digimon known as Wizardmon, and I only ask of one favor… one not only for myself, but for the other henchmen who reside in this miserable castle.  My prayer is only to give Myotismon a change of heart.  He must get one, for his cold-heartedness and arrogance are destroying everyone, even those that are not his own henchmen."  He paused in silence.  "Please… if only… if only he could… if only he could become… Angemon or something!"  He began to cry, and two tears rolled down his cheeks.  "I would really like to see everyone happy and content for once…"

  He fell asleep an hour later after tossing and turning, images of every tortured henchman in the castle running through his mind, him wishing he could have done something… ANYTHING about it.  Even though it was over and done with, Wizardmon wished that he had done something to rescue them.  Hearing them scream in agony for the last time as they were reconfigured… what if it was Gatomon?  What would Azulongmon think of that?

  That final thought echoed in his mind as he floated away into a deep, peaceful sleep until the next morning.

  Bright colors flew before his eyes, and gathered into a blurred smear of sky blue and white.  The image began to clear, and the wizard was able to make out the image clearly.  A large pale sky-blue dragon encased by criscrossing silver chains with a silvery beard protruding from its armored head.  It was floating in air with the help of eight pure white wings.

  "Wizardmon," it addressed the wizard in his pure, sonorous voice.

  "Azulongmon," answered Wizardmon, suddenly taken by surprise.  He fell to his knees, which hit nothing but the soft cloud underneath him.

  "This is not just a dream," explained Azulongmon.  "This is the answer to your prayer.  Your answer is in the form of a spell, so take your staff and I shall give you the spell."

  Wizardmon took his sun staff, which was lying on the cloud next to him.  He held it up in the holy dragon's face, and he recited an incantation for the staff.  A golden orb formed around the sun part of the staff, and then it compressed until it fit in the sun.  The wizard could feel a warmth spread through the staff into his fingertips, and he bowed his head.

  "I know you are wondering why I do not cast the spell myself," elucidated Azulongmon.  "The incantation I cast, no matter how potent I have made it, is counteracted by the intense dark magic that has surrounded the castle, and the evil in Myotismon's own chambers has too unbearable for any of us Guardians to ameliorate.  You, by being able to remain inside the castle, can assist the spell in penetrating the barrier and performing it well."  He paused.  "However, there is one catch to it, as there always is.  I will give you an incantation to recite to help the spell travel to Myotismon and turn him into Angemon.  If you do not remember it completely, drastic results will ensue.  Are you willing to keep this in your memory?"

  Wizardmon nodded, and kept his mind open.

  "The words to the incantation are in the ancient digital language that must be pronounced correctly as well.  They are… 'Té xeisànite ei ta daíven ofnu hélrii tanré noen muur, caóm té enje ei raídiei!  Oro bekoni ori knovlusi; debau, caóm xetin; raídei, DOMÉ!'  Do you remember?  Set your staff down and tell me what you know."

  The wizard set his staff on the cloud in front of him, and it vanished.  "The words, Azulongmon, are…  Té xeisànite ei ta daíven ofnu hélrii tanré noen muur, caóm té enje ei raídiei!  Oro bekoni ori knovlusi; debau, caóm xetin; raídei, DOMÉ!  The life of a demon from hell is no more, be the angel of light!  I beckon my spell; evil, be gone; light, PREVAIL!"

  "Excellent," complimented Azulongmon.  "Remember, you must recite it in its entirety, or things may go horribly wrong.  You may awaken and summon."

  Wizardmon opened his eyes, and he found that he had returned to his dungeon cell.  At first he wondered if the spell he remembered was completely from a dream, but then he saw his staff.  Instead of being set in a corner as it had been before he went to sleep, it was beside his straw mat, glowing softly.  He smiled underneath his cloak, knowing that it was real and he must transform the vampire into Angemon before things became too drastic.

  He heard the loud clang that only meant that the barred wall was opening, giving him access to the rest of the castle.  Wizardmon looked in the direction and saw Demidevimon, the rotund rookie with tattered black wings, a black mask covering his face, and two crow's feet.  The small imp, commonly referred to as "that stupid ass-kisser" and "the only henchman who's truly worthy of death" was only there to carry out orders from the vampire himself.

  "Go away," commanded Wizardmon, pointing his staff at Demidevimon.

  "Oh please, that thing doesn't scare ME," scoffed the imp, flapping his wings.  "You have to go to the master immediately.  Something about… new torture, not following enough orders… smarting off to him… standing up to him when he was in the middle of that important business… so much to tell you, so little time."

  "Go away," the wizard repeated.

  "Fine," declared Demidevimon.  "But will… he?"  He flew down the hall, cackling, when SkullMeramon stomped up to the prison bars.  He swung a short length of his flaming white-hot chains around threateningly, and Wizardmon decided to unyieldingly go with him, taking his staff along.  The sooner he could turn Myotismon into Angemon, the better.  He remembered the spell, and he knew it.  He mentally repeated it to himself as he traveled down the halls.

  Finally, they reached the large throne room where Myotismon spent most of the day and the night, unless he was watching a digital duel out of boredom, or feeding on the blood of whatever unsuspecting digimon he could find.  It was the darkest of all, with tarnished silver suits of armor holding black shields against the stained-glass windows that lined two sides of the high walls that extended to a ceiling that was nearly invisible, save an elaborate glass chandelier that hung from it from a long golden chain.  If the fire shone on it just so, one could see the cobwebs that had gathered on it.  On one end of the room, there was a large fireplace that was the only source of light.  On the other, there were three stone steps that led to a platform, on which was a tall black throne that was large enough to fit two of its occupant, lined with silver spikes and skulls.  The rest was black, and the part that was sat on or against was made of velvet.  Sitting regally on the throne was Myotismon himself.

  "Here he is, master," said SkullMeramon.  He briskly walked across the room, where he would be safe from the imminent battle.  The wizard was gripping his staff, and he began shaking with fright as he saw the vampire glare at him with his ice blue eyes.

  "This has gone too far," said Myotismon, standing up and descending from the platform onto the ground, where he evilly sneered as he saw the cowering wizard.  "You have been a terrible servant, and you know exactly what the consequence is.  Death.  You will suffer it now, as I witness your death, and even become the cause of it.  You will be eliminated and forgotten in a matter of seconds.  His left hand began to glow red, and a long bolt of Crimson Lightning protruded from it and extended towards the ground.  He advanced towards the wizard on his long, spindly legs and brandished the Crimson Lightning.  His bats began to fly around him if the wizard should resist.

  Wizardmon knew he had to perform the incantation quickly.  He took his staff and quickly struggled to remember the incantation that he was told, but most of it had escaped from his mind out of fear.  Finally, what he thought was all of it came to mind.  Shakingly, he recited: "Té xeisànite ei ta daíven tanré noen muur, caóm ta enje!  Oro bekoni ori knovlusi; debau, caóm xetin; raídei, DOMÉ!"

  Before Myotismon got the chance to wonder what the wizard had just said, a large blue ball of light flew out of the staff and took a direct hit to his chest.  Somehow, he did not fall over or even stumble backwards as the spell hit him, but he ceased breathing for three seconds.  The light from the ball spread from his chest to the rest of his torso to his limbs and his head, and he began to feel delirious as the light obstructed his vision and surrounded him.  He felt burning, then nothing as the light ceased.

  Suddenly, the vampire felt something completely different.  He felt six pinpricks in his back, as if there were spikes implanted there and growing.  He cried out as he felt six thin, elongated parts protrude from his back in six different places.  They were stretching the back of his suit, about to tear it.  Then they seemed to fold on their own.  He began to break into a sweat as the pain ended.

  "What… what just happened to me?" he asked himself, confused and in pain.  He looked around the throne room and saw Wizardmon.  It was him that did this.  "Wizardmon, you will pay for this!" he shouted.  "BAKEMON!  PHANTOMON!  DEMIDEVIMON!"  His voice rang through the halls until all the grotesque white ghosts, as well as the cloaked phantom with the glowing eyes and the imp rushed into the throne room.

  "What do you wish, Master Myotismon?" asked the phantom in his wavery voice.

  "Destroy Wizardmon!  He just cast a spell on me, and he must pay for the pain it had caused!"

  As all the Bakemon began to form a wall around Wizardmon, the wizard felt a sinking sensation in his stomach that clouded out the fear.  The spell had not been recited correctly, and he had forgotten chunks of it so it only translated to "The life of a demon is no more, be an angel!  I beckon my spell; evil, be gone; light, PREVAIL!"  The spell had only been halfway performed, and nothing more had happened than cause Myotismon to go into a small wave of pain, but not truly turn into Angemon.

  Suddenly, a flash of light that filtered through the gaps between the Bakemon made them cease their preparedness to attack, and instead part and turn around all of a sudden.  As Wizardmon saw it as well, he knew the spell had possibly worked after all.

  Myotismon stood hunched over, then he fell to his knees.  His mask began to change slightly, as the bat wing tips grew crimson feathers at the ends with silvery tips.  Then his hair began to grow as soon as his mask completed its transformation.  It grew from its normal short length to a long golden sheet of straight blonde hair, which hung down to just above his knees, like Angemon's.  He began to breathe normally and stand up.  Suddenly, in the hand where he held the Crimson Lightning, the lightning grew to eight feet long and took on a silvery tint.  It changed into an Angel Rod, with a large moon ornament on top.  The vampire was incredibly afraid and confused about what was happening to him as his bats flew far away into the rafters of the ceiling.

  Then, for the grand finale of the transformation, the six objects that were protruding from his back started to unfold and stretch his suit.  His cape and golden bat clasp began to dissolve, and his gloves and boots were replaced by white skintight ones that appeared much like Angemon's, only they had slightly different markings on them.  Finally his blue suit got torn into hundreds of small strips of blue cloth, and it, and the rest of his old ensemble, dissolved to reveal…

  An almost completely different digimon.  He had long blonde hair, and the exact same handsome face his normal form had.  He even had his pearly white fangs.  He was wearing almost nothing except for a skintight white bodysuit like Angemon's, which clung to the muscles on his limbs.  Much of the portion above his legs was missing, exposing his well-muscled torso and chest.  All that was there was on his arms and above his shoulders.  He had a golden sun ornament on his left shoulder, like Angemon had, and hanging from a silver belt around his waist was a long red cloth that was tattered around the edges.  It was completed with his mode of flight: six pure white bat wings that protruded from his back.  He also had a new name, both parts contradictions of the other.


  All digimon would be astounded by this transformation that was the result of a spell gone wrong.  All digimon would shun this new being, and he possibly would never find a place in any heart at all.  A vampire with the likeness of an angel was not one to trust, nor understand.

To be continued…


I hope you liked ch1!  Please tell me what you think!  I will hopefully upload the next one before I leave for Florida on the 27th!