Chapter Two

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War calmly met Uriel's demanding glare.  This angel was different from the others.  Her hair was the same platinum white as any of her race, and her steel armor was rimmed and decorated with gold.  But where most angels had steely white eyes, hers were fierce and golden.  Her skin and fluorescent wings had a golden hue as well.  She was also far more honorable than most other angels he'd met.

After War had slain the Destroyer with the Armageddon Blade, the Watcher—an agent of the Charred Council—had grabbed him with its magics and taken the Seventh Seal.  Uriel had freed War by killing him with the Blade, completing the Death Oath between them.  She'd immediately revived him by using the sword to break the Seventh Seal, an act which had also restored his rightful powers to him.  He'd then killed the Watcher out of vengeance and tossed the body aside.  When he'd looked back at Uriel, she was pointing her sword at him.

"You knew," she said.  "You knew what would happen here, what I would do.  That's why you spared me."

"No," said War.

"Then why?"

He stepped forward.  "Because I would not have the last of Heaven's honor die with its Champion."

At that, the angel kneeled.  "All debts are repaid.  The duty I uphold—it may call me to raise my sword against you.  And if that day comes," she promised, looking up, "I won't hesitate."

The Horseman turned away.

"You will be hunted," Uriel told him as she stood.  "The White City for certain.  The Council, and there will be others.  You would wage this war alone?"

"No."  War turned and held up the broken Seal.  "Not alone."

As he said it, three meteors appeared in the sky: one orange, one purple, one green.  Uriel and the rest of the Hellguard watched the falling stars with dread, knowing full well what they meant.  The rest of the Horsemen were about to arrive on Earth, summoned by the final Seal.

War picked up the Armageddon Blade and placed it on his back, then mentally called out to his steed.  The obscenely massive warhorse materialized beside him in a sudden blast of fire.  The beast's fur was a dark rust color, cracked below the knees like an active volcano to release the fire around its hooves.  Its eyes and nostrils glowed with that ember light, as did the runes carved into its neck.  The saddle was sturdy steel, the bridle a thick chain. Ruin snorted and whinnied—a brutish sound well suited for such a beast.  The Horseman only stood as tall as the horse's shoulder, but he mounted easily.  The pair then set off through the void between the realms.

They materialized outside of Ulthane's forge.  War dismounted and found the Maker inside, hammering away at whatever was on that anvil.  Ulthane's ginger hair was braided at his nape, his chin hidden by his close-trimmed beard.  His arms were burly, bare and decorated with blue tattoos.  He was taller than War, and far broader, as was natural for his kind.  The Makers were an ancient race of crafters and smiths.  They forged weapons, built entire cities, and could even bring life to stone.  Ulthane had forged the weapon that had killed the Destroyer.

"Abaddon is dead," War told him.

The Maker stopped hammering and sighed through crooked teeth.  "Then I suppose you'll be killing me next."

"You played a part in the conspiracy, Old One, and must answer for your crimes.  But I won't kill you yet."

Ulthane looked up in surprise.  "What now?"

War lifted the Armageddon Blade from his back.  "First, you will return my sword."

Without a word, the Maker reached behind him and lifted Chaoseater from an unused anvil, then handed the blade to War.  The Horseman exchanged the Armageddon Blade for his own sword.  Ulthane gazed at him with the eyes of one who reluctantly accepts his fate.

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