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tftl-au · 5 months

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La familia de las mil lenguas

Capítulo cuatro: El ardor de su sangre

Incluso en los días más tristes, el Cielo siempre permanecía iluminado, los serafines cantaban y sus encantadoras luces alumbraban a todos sus habitantes.

Pero ahora los serafines estaban peleando, matándose entre sí, el Cielo era oscuro y una ola de terror y matanza arrasaba con la frágil existencia de los ángeles menores.

Sangre y muerte por algunas partes, esclavitud y angustia por otras. Algunos siquiera tuvieron la oportunidad de armarse, de portar una armadura decente.

Batallando entre sus iguales vestidos de túnicas, teniendo a sus alas de escudos y sus brazaletes de armadura, sus espadas parecían ser cuchillos de pan ante sus estocadas destrozando cuerpos.

Los ángeles rebeldes luchaban por una libertad de expresión, a los que no, batallaban por paz y devoción.

Algunos Querubines asesinaban a ángeles más pequeños, a pesar de ser unas bestias, tenían una intención de rebeldía también, arcángeles desaparecieron, murieron, agonizaron o fueron cruelmente humillados en los campos del Cielo.

Ninguna nube podía protegerte de un ataque nocivo de alguna lanza o flecha. Michael estaba a la cabeza de su ejército celestial, luchando cuerpo a cuerpo con otros como él.

Le desgarraba el corazón tener que hacerlo, nunca imagino matar a un hermano suyo o amigo por solo sus ideales. Gabriel estaba detrás suyo, cubriendo sus alas con las suyas, no estaba completamente resentido, conocer en persona a su nuevo amo lo había conmovido tanto que creía que su lucha no era en vano.

Uriel es ágil con su espada flamante, mutilado alas y brazos a sus enemigos, aunque con un yelmo poco favorable para su visión, este error era provocado a propósito, no queria ver caras familiares para dividirlas con su hoja de plata después.

Belfariel se percato de su buen amigo, así que se apego a él para luego lanzarlo al suelo y poder hablar sin ser atacado.

Saco su yelmo y lo miro con dulzura por unos momentos.

-Uriel, mi amigo, no puedes seguir luchando sin saber a qué te enfrentas...el verdadero enemigo aquí es el Dios que tanto respete, pero no más; vamos Uriel, tienes una mente tan magnífica, ¿como no puedes entender que nuestro propósito va más allá de solo agacharse y hacer el ridículo ante alguien a quien nunca vimos?

Uriel lo veía con lagrimas que se secaron repentinamente - Bel...reacciona, tu eres más devoto que cualquier ángel que exista aquí, eres las alas de Dios, tu encanto por sus creaciones aéreas solo enternece su ser, deja de decir estupideces, vuélvete a mi...

Belfariel lo miró furioso y antes de atacarlo, la espada ardiente cruzo su torso, dañando sus alas y ardiendo su cuerpo en pocos segundos, al sacar la espada lo lanzó por los aires, observando a su amigo arder entre ellos. Gimiendo y gritando del dolor por las llamas que lo consumían, era un espectáculo horrendo para el arcángel que decidido a su fe, se coloco el yelmo de vuelta.

Los dias eran cortos para la lucha interminable, el Cielo estaba exterminadose asimismo.

La Tierra quedó en una completa oscuridad, donde lo halos de los ángeles sucedían como estrellas para los humanos.

Barachiel estaba del lado de Lucifer, ahuyentando a sus oraciones anteriores de serle fiel a su Padre, ignorando por completo el futuro de su hermana y pequeña compañera.

En ello una rapaz estocada tinto sus ropas de sangre, en el suelo empezaba a agonizar sin lograr extraer el lanza que lo jodia. Luego escucho un par de aleteos familiares que vinieron a rescatar su pellejo, un par de lamentos tras unas caricias en el torso para cerrar la herida junto a la luz verde candente.

-Bara, conserva la calma, perdóname, no te vi, te confundí con alguien más..

Jo-jodete Raphael..e-estamos en bandos contrarios..-tartamudeo adolorido.

-No digas...esas cosas Bara, te conozco, deja que te cure, ayúdanos a ganar..

En realidad la convicción de un ser que no sabía distinguir el bien del mal, es fácil de manipular. Los propósitos marchitos de alguien cambiante siempre suelen modificados por buena labia.

Y así fue, tal vez si una simple coincidencia de apetito no hubiera ocurrido, no se hubieran ocasionado tantos desastres, tantas bajas y tanto conflicto.

Michael seguiría siendo aledaño a Lucifer, seguiría viéndolo como un buen amigo al que molestar por su frágil sentido del humor. No se hubieran tomado la molestia de terminar con una guerra tras llantos y mutilaciones.

El Salón de la Gloria no resplandecía ese día, no hasta que se llegara la conclusión del juzgado al Serafín; los amantes de la convicción egocéntrica estaban atados con cadenas, obligados a inclinarse ante su creador.

Luzbel, te condeno ha desaparecer de mi vista, ha dejar tu puesto de serafin y ha cegarte tu antiguo reino. Ahora serás una alimaña cualquiera, dejaras tu belleza y la reemplazare por el horror, que aquellos que te admiraban sientan terror al verte. Te condeno a las tinieblas, al más oscuro abismo de la existencia donde te quedaras encerrado toda la eternidad, donde tu sangre nunca será pura de nuevo y tu inmortalidad implique castigo a los humanos que tanto detestas. Vete de aquí, Lucifer.

Y el Salón se reveló, dejando ver con esplendor a la transformación del bello Lucifer, cuyas alas empezaron a atrofiarse, sus plumas se caían y la piel se enrojecia del ardor, donde su sien con pequeños cuernos se obstacule por unos bastante grandes, donde sus bellos ojos se transformen en la monstruosidad de la anemia, donde sus pupilas sangren y se tiñan de ese color. Donde sus labios empiecen a sangrar por los colmillos que los cruzaban accidentalmente, donde sus orejas por más tiernas que parecieran se convirtieran en puntiagudas. Donde su nariz empezará a atrofiarse y su piel se hiciera sensible a cualquier temperatura.

Luego fue arrojado a las llamas del abismo, junto a cada uno de los demonios que tuvieron su juzgado, con solo llamar a sus nombres.

Chapter four: The ardor of his blood

Even on the saddest days, Heaven always remained illuminated, the seraphim sang and its enchanting lights illuminated all its inhabitants. But now the seraphim were fighting, killing each other, Heaven was dark and a wave of terror and carnage swept over the fragile existence of the lesser angels.

Blood and death in some parts, slavery and anguish in others. Some even had the opportunity to arm themselves, to wear decent armor.

Battling among their equals dressed in tunics, having their wings as shields and their bracelets of armor, their swords seemed to be bread knives before their thrusts destroying bodies. The rebellious angels fought for freedom of expression, those who did not, fought for peace and devotion. Some Cherubs murdered smaller angels, despite being beasts, they also had an intention of rebellion, archangels disappeared, died, died or were cruelly humiliated in the fields of Heaven.

No cloud could protect you from a harmful attack from any spear or arrow. Michael stood at the head of his heavenly army, fighting hand to hand with others like him. It tore his heart to have to do it, he never imagined killing his brother or friend just for his ideals.

Gabriel was behind him, covering his wings with his, he was not completely resentful, meeting his new master in person had moved him so much that he believed that his fight was not in vain.

Uriel is agile with his brand new sword, mutilating the wings and arms of his enemies, although with a helmet that is not favorable for his vision, this error was caused on purpose, he did not want to see familiar faces to divide them with his silver blade later.

Belfariel noticed his good friend, so he attached himself to him and then threw him to the ground so he could speak without being attacked. He took out his helmet and looked at it gently for a few moments

. -Uriel, my friend, you cannot continue fighting without knowing what you are facing...the true enemy here is the God that I respect so much, but no more; Come on Uriel, you have such a magnificent mind, how can you not understand that our purpose goes beyond just crouching down and making a fool of yourself in front of someone we've never seen? Uriel saw him with tears that suddenly dried

- Bel...react, you are more devoted than any angel that exists here, you are the wings of God, your charm for his aerial creations only softens his being, stop saying stupid things, turn back To me...- Belfariel looked at him furiously and before attacking him, the burning sword crossed his torso, damaging his wings and burning his body in a few seconds.

When he pulled out the sword he threw him into the air, watching his friend burn between them. Moaning and screaming in pain from the flames that consumed him, it was a horrendous sight for the archangel who, determined in his faith, put his helmet back on. The days were short for the endless fight, Heaven was exterminated as well.

The Earth was left in complete darkness, where the halos of the angels were like stars for humans. Barachiel was on Lucifer's side, chasing away his previous prayers to be faithful to his Father, completely ignoring the future of his sister and little companion.

At that moment, a rapacious stab stained his clothes with blood; on the ground he began to agonize without being able to extract the spear that was fucking him.

Then he heard a couple of familiar flutters that came to rescue his skin, a couple of moans after some caresses on his torso to close the wound next to the burning green light.

"Bara, stay calm, forgive me, I didn't see you, I confused you with someone else...

Fuck-fuck you Raphael... we-we're on opposite sides..." -he stammer painfully.

-Don't say... those things Bara, I know you, let me heal you, help us win...- In reality, the conviction of a being who did not know how to distinguish good from evil is easy to manipulate. The withered intentions of someone changeable are always modified by good talk. And so it was, perhaps if a simple coincidence of appetite had not occurred, so many disasters, so many casualties and so much conflict would not have been caused.

Michael would continue to be close to Lucifer, he would continue to see him as a good friend to be bothered by his fragile sense of humor. They would not have taken the trouble to end a war after tears and mutilations. The Hall of Glory did not shine that day, not until the conclusion of the Seraphim court was reached; lovers of self-centered conviction were bound in chains, forced to bow before their creator.

Luzbel, I condemn you to disappear from my sight, to leave your position as seraphim and to be blinded by your ancient kingdom. Now you will be any vermin, you will leave your beauty and I will replace it with horror, that those who admired you will feel terrified when they see you. I condemn you to darkness, to the darkest abyss of existence where you will remain locked up for all eternity, where your blood will never be pure again and your Your immortality implies punishment for the humans you detest so much. Get out of here, Lucifer.

And the Hall was revealed, revealing with splendor the transformation of the beautiful Lucifer, whose wings began to atrophy, his feathers fell out and his skin turned red from the burning, where his temple with small horns was hindered by quite large ones, where his beautiful eyes transform into the monstrosity of anemia, where their pupils bleed and turn that color. Where his lips begin to bleed from the fangs that accidentally crossed them, where his ears, no matter how tender they seemed, became pointed. Where your nose will begin to atrophy and your skin will become sensitive to any temperature. Then he was thrown into the flames of the abyss, along with each of the demons who had their court, just by calling their names.

#story #history #a new history #heaven #archangel #michael #lil' lucifer au #tftl au #gabriel #Lucifer #god

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