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30 January 2008 @ 01:20 pm
Angel of Oblivion  
Author(s):artist aka thedragonwithin
Pairing: none
Genre: Action/Adventure
Warnings: This story contains things of a religious nature that have been twisted. Plus, there's blood and some gore.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Summery: There was never meant to be a cross between any of the species of Heaven and Hell after the Fall and the Millennium wars. However, the newly created realm for those spirits sent into the darkness needs a ruler, and needs one that understands both Hell and Heaven, so an exemption was made for one, however, learning what she needed, a Fallen Angel of Ice decides that he needs to rise to power, to take what was rightfully his; Heaven. And the girl is the only way he can get that power.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The plot and characters belong to myself and the voices in my head. Any resemblance to any other plot, character, or even real life person or situation is by pure accident and not intentional. Enjoy!
Previous Chapters: Prologue

Chapter One

Nimora paced back and forth in the cave, worried about what would happen to her child. The egg that she had lain a century after the incident was on a ledge for all the Dragons of Heaven to see and decide the fate. The shell glistened crimson and black that held tinges of navy blue in the dim torch light of the cave. Golden eyes never left the sparkling shell, her only child that she would ever be allowed to have. It was to make sure that their population didn't go wild and out of control, a little safety control on their population. She would never be allowed to have another child, even if this one was killed. Female Dragons of Heaven couldn't reproduce more then once, becoming sterile and never able to have more.

She hated the fact that Namor had called the entire attention of the clan on her only egg and the decision to let it live or kill it since it was of the forbidden halfbreed type. Those of Hell and Heaven weren't even supposed to produce children, which she was surprised that she even was able to do. It either meant that this child was destined for great ruin or had a purpose that had yet to be identified. She prayed that her child would be able to live, although looked down upon and scorned in any society it would encounter, it was her child, and she couldn't imagine her only chance to be a mother to be destroyed with the judgment of the clan.

“The Elders have decided,” a large red beast roared across the gathered, black sigma running all over his massive bulk of leather and scales. Wise violet eyes looked to Nimora, no pity in them but the same coldness that was needed for the war. Even if it had ended not long ago, a decade at most, it seemed he still could give the looks that killed thousands of Fallen and the Rebel Dragons of Hell. Creamy white feathered wings and light sky blue horns made for an odd combination on the High Dragon of Heaven, but he was no less deadly. “The child will live, under grand supervision. If the nature of the Fallen takes over, another council will be held to see if we throw it into the pits of Hell, or we kill it and take care of the whole problem. No one is to harm the egg, child, or consider it. Those that do, will be found of high treason and be sent to the ranks of the Dragons of Hell.”

There wasn't a sound, one could hear the massive winds that whipped around the mountains overpowering everything, even with all the Dragon's sharp hearing. Nimora bowed, her long and lithe body crawling up the pillar, gently taking her egg, her child, into her jaws that had crushed army after army, legion after legion, and held her prize tenderly. She retained her golden eyes in this form, not loosing any of their inner fire, making her narrow head look even more fierce, although she only had two silver curved horns instead of four. Her body was a deep forest green, with aqua sigma that seemed to glow on the darker color. Her wings were like all the other Dragon's of Heaven; a creamy feathered white.

Those that had gathered parted like the Red Sea, her form moving towards the outside, rather intent to get her child back to her private cave, where it would be protected for every minute that it would reside in Heaven. No other would challenge her, Namor had spoken his judgment and that would be that. It was safe until the day it at least grew up a little and learned of the world, and the rest learned of its nature. Although she was worried, Nimora didn't show it outwardly, and instead focused on making sure the egg stayed at the right temperature, and prayed it had nothing to do with its Fallen Angel side.

Three months passed since the day Namor declared that her child was to remain untouched, the naked hatchling four days old, sitting up, and staring at the clan. Every child that survived the fourth day was shown to the clan, strong enough to venture outside and even become more aware of their surroundings. There was murmuring in the cave, however, looking at the odd looking halfbreed. There had been hopes that she'd look, for lack of a better word, draconic. She looked like the halfbreed that she was, which made most of the adults shake their heads in pity and the children wonder if they played with her, would they catch whatever disease she seemed to have, or even hurt her with their sharpened talons.

“What is the halfling's name,” Namor asked, his voice rough and unforgiving. This did not bode well with him, the way she looked, the way she seemed to absorb everything with her pale golden eyes, reflecting her mothers with a dull sheen.

“Senna,” Nimora replied with confidence. She was not ashamed of her child, although worried on what the rest of the clan would think. There had been outcastings before, mostly of traitors, but with the war still on everyone's minds, this was not a welcomed sign of things to come, she heard the rumors, listening to whatever the other mothers who had hatchlings similar in age had to say about her own.

Two elongated ears twitched at her name, Namor taking this as a good sign. Her process of learning didn't seem to be stunted, as most hatchlings knew their name by the second day. Pale flesh, or at least it looked like that since her head was covered in a thin navy blue fuzz, inherited by her father apparently, and her current form disturbing even to the most open about the subject of her birth, they all hoped that the Fallen Angel genes were to be dormant, instead they seemed to mesh rather well with the Dragons of Heaven. A black tail waved in the air, as if she was curious about all the different Dragons surrounding her, looking at her with curious eyes. Her dark forest green wings spread, the bat-like appendages looking like a Dragon of Hell's rather than the feathery Dragon of Heaven's, blood red membrane stretched between.

All hoped that day that her personality didn't take after her form, or she would be on death row.

“All witnessed here the Naming,” Namor said, looking at his clan, the last line of defense of Heaven's Gates where he gathered the strongest Dragons of Heaven that he could, just so that the golden arches would be that much better protected. “Is there any objection of Senna joining the clan by birthright?”

Nimora narrowed her eyes, daring anyone to speak out against her daughter, having to hold in a growl from them. Senna looked up at her, innocence and a slight look of confusion at her mother's temper, poking the Dragon's underbelly with the tip of her diamond-shaped tail spike. Nimora's anger dissipated for a moment, nuzzling the hatchling with her large muzzle, Senna grasping it, as if knowing that her life depended on her mother, and no one else.

No one objected, the murmurs dying down, the strong winds once again whipping around the mountains and caves, Namor satisfied. “Senna is now accepted into the clan, by birthright.” He drew closer, Nimora turning Senna around, not liking what was going to happen, but knowing it had to be done. Every hatchling born had to be marked of the clan, to know they weren't a traitor and to know what clan they belonged to. Senna's frightened and painful scream tore through the cave as Namor burned the sigmoid on her back, the sign of his clan. The sign glowing a bright blue as it soothed the girl, the tears slowly coming to a stop as she curled up as best she could to Nimora's flank, the cave filled with mutterings of approval.

“It is done,” Namor said, looking at his clan. “Senna is now a part of the clan, so untouchable unless she grows to be a traitor.”

“She will not,” Nimora growled. “we can make sure we nurture the Dragon in her and slay the nature of the Fallen of Shadow. I will not have my daughter be a traitor to our clan.”

The clan stood silent, all eyes on the child that had been soothed to sleep by the deep and ancient magic that they knew since the Beginning of Time and Awareness. Only time would tell if Nimora could train out the nature of the Fallen Angels, or if Senna would be swayed to their traitorous ways.

--scene separator--

She had just been accepted as a Youngling, barely over the age of fifty and still the youngest of the clan. When she was shown to the Arch Angels, they decided on robes of violet with a crimson trim, for one to denote that she was a Dragon of Heaven and the crimson to show that she may one day have their blood on her hands. Nimora didn't like the choice, but until she was able to start shifting forms, she would have to wear them to protect her from the ever present and strong winds that their home consisted of.

The days were always clear, they sky struggling between a jaded powder blue and a bright aqua, today no different from the rest. It never rained here, the barrier that was erected thirty years ago keeping out the rain and her kind out of the main part of Heaven. The Angels saw them as a threat, as beings that could take over their spot as Heaven's treasured, even if the Dragons knew that it was their purpose to protect the gates rather then to live in them. However, there were rumors of another war brewing in the mortal realm that had ties to Hell, and trust was hard to come by at this time, even for those once allies.

Senna watched the seemingly endless mountain range, some figures in the distance she recognized as a different clan playing in the turbulent air. She was a Youngling now, she'd be coming into her powers soon and it worried of her. She had heard the rumors that had been flying about since she was conceived, and all around her as she listened to the whispers about her downfall into the darkness. She had learned well from her mother how to behave, how to ignore the pressing voices in her head, something she had told none about.

She could hear them, the conflicting sides of good and what apparently was evil by the clan's definition, fighting for her attention. One side, was the sound of the Dragons, those of her mother's people that had been destroyed in the war, telling her how to survive in a society that didn't want her, warning her of the dangers if she allowed the other side to shine through. The other side was that of her father's, the Fallen Angels of the Shadows that also had a restless end, whispering for her to be watchful, and even went as far as to show her some of her powers of the Shadows that her body could handle.

In this moment, they were silent, which was a rarity. Usually, one side or the other would be whispering to her, trying to sway her resolve and will to what they thought would be best to her. She could tell the difference between the individuals, and the sides they represented. Some talked to her more than others, sort of like friends, not that she knew. Although they were commanded not to, most of the other Dralings weren't allowed near her since she might sway their young minds to her 'twisted' way of thinking and lead more of their kind of ruin. They didn't need more than the half that had been taken away to be sent into Hell, and the Angels thought they had it bad with one thrid.

The council is going on right now, the Fallen named Aletta spoke, one of the ones that rarely talked to her unless it was something of importance. They are going to send you home, where you belong. The Dragons think you belong here, but your powers hail from the Fallen. I am sorry, Senna, but only in your Dragon form will you be able to learn what your mother can teach you, and the Fallen must first teach you how to center yourself in order to transform.

Lies, sneered Zahirah, one of the Dragons that often defended her people from any of the Fallen voices. Where Senna thought her wise, she sometimes doubted the soundness of her advice in situations where it seemed to lead to more trouble than not. You can transform once you find your center here. There will be help from the others, as there has always been. You should have been born a Dragon anyway, it would have made it that much easier.

“Can you go in and out of my mind at will,” Senna asked, not feeling like hearing the same old conversation in her head once again. The outcome was always the same, the decision would be up to her, even if she didn't want to make it. She always tried to get information about them, however, thinking the more she knew, the better she could control them and maybe even learn to block them out when she wanted some sort of peace.

Yes, Aletta replied, her soft voice much more welcoming than Zahirah's. However, it is only for a limited time that we are able to do so. I have told you this before, Senna. You will not be able to block us out, and we cannot go elsewhere in any of the planes. I will try to keep most of us quiet, even when in an argument.

If you kept quiet the rest of the time, there would be no argument, Zahirah hissed, Senna shaking her head. If there was one thing that she knew for sure, was that most of the Dragons had a temper and liked to turn it towards the Fallen.

Aletta was silent, much to Zahirah's pleasure, and the Dragon decided that she could run her mouth, Senna ignoring the voice until it finally stopped. The council would be getting out soon anyway, and her fate would be once again decided by those that sought to keep the peace as long as they possibly could.

She spread her wings, taking to the slightly chilled air that was still pleasant to fly through, intent on returning to the cave she and her mother shared. It would be the safest place for her to be, protected by her mother's magic that only Namor could break. She entered the barrier with no problem, the magic knowing her mark well enough to allow her little resistance as she landed on the cold stone.

The inside of the cave was filled only with a large hay pile and some remains that were their morning meal, which she cleaned out by shoving it out of the cave. The outcome of the council was worrying her, she had a bad feeling about this whole ordeal. She knew that she wouldn't be allowed to stay here, Aletta's voice the one of reason this time, being a cursed halfbreed wasn't flattering, and her mother didn't lie when she said that she'd live a life of hardships and trials. This was going to be one of them, she shivered, laying on the hay, examining the golden strands that was by her head. She didn't want to go to Hell, she didn't want to never come back here.

--scene separator--

The council's news did not settle well with Nimora, they had talked with the traitors to decide the best course in her daughter's development. Her temper was rising as she exited the cave, not liking at all what had been decided. She would kill Kaggren for this, for causing this whole mess in the first place, of course no blame came on herself. Well, she could blame herself for this too, mostly because she didn't stay home like Namor had told her to. She didn't want to do this, she didn't want to follow through with what the traitors and Namor had agreed on.

She didn't want to send Senna into Hell.

Taking to the sky, cream colored wings turning all shades of the rainbow as the light of day hit them, although they were the darker colors of afternoon rather than the lighter colors of daybreak. The thermals were well, and she made it back to the cave quickly, entering the barrier without a problem, after all, she was the one who created it. She looked at Senna with regret in her proud eyes, the girl most likely not knowing what was going to happen to her. She had a week to get things arranged, or Namor would take things into his own hands, and she didn't want that.

“Council was longer than usual,” Senna said, breaking the uneasy silence. She didn't like the things that the muted voices were telling her. It was like they were all there at once, eager yet terrified to hear what news Nimora had to bring them. “Was there anything wrong?”

“It has been decided that you are going to be living with your father for awhile,” the beast sneered. “As much as I hate to send you to Hell, being so young and still impressionable, it cannot be helped. You need to learn how to control your powers, and the Fallen of Shadow can and will help you do this. You will be kept in contact with myself and Namor, as well as the Dragons of Hell, but we don't know how trustworthy they will be.

“You will be delivered down there in two days. It'll allow you to pack up and for myself to make arrangements.”

“I understand,” Senna said, ears twitching and tail cautiously waving behind her. This either would be very good, or very bad, but she couldn't decide which yet. She'd finally be able to meet her sire, which she guessed was a good enough thing, even if he was a mere Fallen. Prejudice wasn't dead in her, as it was instilled from her birth, maybe even from before, but she would have to overcome it.

“Good. Ready your things, Senna,” Nimora instructed, turning to leave the cave. “And don't go anywhere. I don't want things to go wrong.”

“Yes mother.”

And with a great down-burst of feathery wings, Nimora was gone and Senna was left alone again.


Kaggren didn't like this, there was unrest in Hell and the Dragons of Heaven ignored his warning to them. He shuffled his wings uneasily, standing in front of one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the hall. Hell lay stretched out before him, a land cracked and dry with sand blowing with the harsh heavy winds. An endless midnight blue sky stretched over the barren landscape, with bursts of flame trying to light the sky and the stark stench of brimstone constantly filling the air.


“Everything is fine, Kaggren,” Yasuo said for what felt like the billionth time. Kaggren had sent him and his teams all over Hell, looking for anything unstable, any sign of trouble. They had found what they had found before; absolutely nothing. “This is the safest time to do a portal jump. Nothing will go wrong so quit worrying.”

“Since when did you have such a mouth on you,” the head of the Fallen of Shadows asked, wry smile on his lips.

“Since I started figuring out that you need to relax,” Yasuo replied with a nod. “Maybe you and Nimora should meet on the mortal plane for some 'recreational time'. Might even help you mellow out.”

“I almost died the first time,” Kaggren replied dryly. “Off to your post. I will not have anything go wrong.”

With a salute, Yasuo was gone, leaving Kaggren alone and looking out at Hell once more. Hoping his daughter wouldn't have any interference. If any occurred, he knew he'd be blamed and aptly punished. He had felt the end of the massive claws once, and never wanted to befall to that fate again.


The two days had passed, everything was arranged, and Senna was standing above a swirling blue, green, and black mass of swirling colors. She gulped back her fear, the Fallen side gently urging her to go in slowly, the Dragons begging to not have to go. She looked back at Namor and her mother, both giving encouraging nods. She slowly stepped into the portal, watching it slowly rise, engulfing her in the color while swallowing her whole.

The journey was odd, but not unpleasant. Well, at least not until the end, where she came out of the ceiling and was looking at the rather long way down. Eyes wide, she tried to have her wings spread when she came out, but it seemed the portal wouldn't expand for her to do so. She tumbled out, one wing spread and trying to hold her right while the other stayed closed as it refused to open at the rate she was falling. The floor came faster than she expected.

The stone was hard, as she slowly got up, finding herself just having a few bruises, her one-winged landing actually breaking most of her fall. She looked up at a large throne chair, and draped over it a smug looking Fallen, with the same color hair, shaped eyes, and even skin color. Dark black with violet hues where the light hit wings were half open, they looked so soft, much softer than she'd expect a Fallen's to look. He had a smirk on his face that she wanted to wipe off, it was smug and entertained, most likely at her expense.

“I am Senna of the Dragons of Heaven,” she said, standing up properly to her unimpressive full height of five feet five.

“I am Kaggren, leader of the Fallen of Shadows,” Kaggren grinned, sitting up properly. “Your father. Welcome to Hell.”

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