The Descent of the Gods

Stand

A uproar of furious wails filled Nod. But it wasn't mortal voices alone that contributed to the rising tumult. Moloch's demons had taken possession of every shadow and crevice as the night had descended, bringing more fear and terror to the populace with their ever-increasing numbers. For centuries, the wager between Moloch and Azrael was well known in their realm, and now that Nod would fall and be utterly destroyed, the fiends of darkness had come to revel in the event.

But their day of rejoicing had just experienced an unexpected turn - a girl was proclaiming speech hateful to their ears in the center of the city. Even as she began to speak the words, they had all felt their unsettling reverberations, even if they were not near enough to hear the words themselves. Their night of revelry and unhindered tormenting of the Cainites was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong nausea. And as Naamah struck the image for the first time, a bolt of fiery pain pierced each demonic mind like a burrowing screw.

So as the hammer struck the statue of Cain over and over, a maelstrom broke out over the city. Human ears could not detect it, but a feeling of desperate dread pressed down heavily on each heart. Hearts that had long adored Cain were swept up with the feeling into a desperate rage to fight back against whatever had brought on the feeling, while the few like Enoch only felt that all hope had been lost.

Every demon rose from the shadows of the city and sought out the source of their torment, streaming in dark torrents towards the arena. With every hammer strike, their numbers swelled exponentially and their howls of murderous wrath began to shake the walls of their own dimension.

As the arena came into sight, they were met by light that seared their eyes and singed their thin wings. They saw the girl dressed in white, holding the hammer, standing on the altar. One leg of the statue was almost completely broken through. It would only be a few more moments before the image was toppled. The people may heed her words, and the Almighty might hear their prayers of supplication and repentance. Moloch's victory could turn into a bitter defeat. 

The demons knew what to do. No, they could not touch the girl, but her mind, emotions and the minds of their many minions in the arena were an open playground for their darkest intentions. FEAR would reign supreme. No matter the resolve of the girl before them, such a host of dark spirits would overpower her. 

With screams of hatred the swarm of demons shot across the arena towards Naamah. But as the hoard approached her with the momentum and speed of hell's fury, one lone figure stepped in their way. They could not see who it was, the light being generated behind him was too great and he was hooded by his enveloping wings. But then his wings drew back to reveal an angel dressed for war. Armor of light shone from every inch of his body, and under the helmet burned Azrael's fierce eyes. He pulled forth a sword of light and held it ready for their assault.

"I am their protector," spoke the angel. "Let heaven and hell remember it!" The demons tried to avoid him, but their path could not be redirected in time. They poured over his sword and into the agony of his light like a flood. The demons in the rear of the swarm pulled back in time, scattering like a thousand shadows in the face of the sun. Azrael launched into the sky, pursuing them as they fled, pulsating with rapturous glory as each sword strike sent another demon into the void. He twisted and spun, cleaving demons from the sky, his sword raking through them with engulfing and unstoppable power. 

Not since Lucifer had engaged the host of heaven in the battle over the One Throne had such power been exhibited in the struggle between Heaven and Hell.

The demonic onslaught abated for a moment, and Azrael landed on the altar opposite to where Naamah still struck at the image - girl and angel shone with a light so powerful that the hoards of demons dared not approach in their weakened state.

"Don't fail me now," Naamah prayed between blows. 

"I never will," Azrael replied.

From the confinement of the prisoner wagon, Enoch saw the statue waver under anther blow from Naamah's hammer. He was overcome with an excitement so intense, he felt as if he could pull the bars of his prison apart with his own two hands.

"Who is she?" he thought.