The Revelation of St John was a dream; partly true, but the man had filled in gaps for the parts he hadn't understood. Then it had been adapted, mistranslated, and condensed, meaning that humans were unprepared for the actual return of the angelic host.
It also meant that when the hosts descended to Earth, they were met with mixed reactions.
Marithael was assigned to a large town, not quite a small city, full of people of mild faith. The seraph expected to land, impress them with his wings and blazing sword, then return their souls to Heaven without a fuss.
He landed in the town square in a halo of light, accompanied by a cherubic song. Other seraphs had already landed around the world, meaning people were already gathering in curious droves. Cries went up at his arrival, and he glories in them.
Marithael rose to his full height, spread all seven of his wings, and watched as the surrounding humans knelt.
He smirked internally, impressed by their reaction. This was exactly what he'd been told to expect. Humans were easily cowed, weak, in need of someone to rule them.
Amidst all the kneeling humans, one woman stood tall.
He mantled, wings spread to full extension. The kneeling masses murmured, pulled away from him. Marithael strode toward the strange woman, frowning deeply. "Why do you not kneel?"
She smiled, eyes glinting. "Awe is for mortals."
The seraph grimaced, then leveled his flaming sword at the unbowed. The archangels had given clear orders; slay any who stood in their way. Marithael had never killed a human, but he couldn't imagine it was that hard.
She smirked and reached into the emptiness beside her. Marithael watched as she drew a deep blue sword from the aether. Frosty mists danced along its length, and the light seemed to dim around it.
This strange woman wasn't wholly human, but he wouldn't let that stop him.
Marithael leapt forward with a flap of his wings, flaming sword on point. People gasped and drew back, giving them room to fight, though neither fighter paid them any heed. The seraph would deal with them after he handled this blasphemer.
She was tall and agile, parrying his thrust with an ease that surprised him. He'd been taught that no fighter was superior to the warriors of Heaven, yet she sidestepped his follow up like he moved at half-speed. Marithael sneered in frustration and she simply grinned.
Again and again their blades crossed, fire and ice clashing with each blow, filling the air with steam and smoke. Marithael was larger than her, with a heavier blade, but he was unable to gain advantage over her. He singed her clothes once, but was otherwise unable to touch her.
His frustration rose with each miss. She began to laugh, the tip of her blade scoring his armor in a dozen places. Marithael lifted his lips back and let out a bellow of rage. He spread his wings, throwing a burst of divine force at the woman.
She dodged, moved in behind him, and cut off his central wing. Marithael screamed in pain as she claimed her trophy, and he stumbled away to stare in disbelief.
"Return to your Heaven," she said, holding the wing close to her chest. "Tell the others that Earth is not solely theirs. If your kind want these humans, you'll have to fight for them." She laughed, sword at her side, then licked at the bloody stump of the seraph's wing.
Marithael bowed his head and returned to Heaven.
