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Some three hundreds years ago... Above Earth
Azrael had finally managed to drag Tyrael away from Delilah's body, promising over and over that Cain, Abel and Seth would take care of her body. They now stood among the Seraphim and Cherubim, in front of Mettatron and Raziel. Rshkiel was there also, his fingers brushing against the shining blade at his side with wonder. Obviously Delilah's request had been granted.
Mettatron looked at Tyrael who was staring down.
"Tyrael, we grieve with you for the last Guardian of Moen," he said delicately.
Tyrael vaguely nodded without looking up.
"We know the sacrifice she made and how it changed you. Under these circumstances, are you sure you want to remain the Angel of Guardians?"
He shrugged without answering. Azrael intervened:
"If I may suggest something... Tyrael indeed cares for humans the way few of us do but on the other hand, he's now full of anger and hatred against Demons. Why not let him join Michael? He had proved to be able to plan, to lead others in battle and also to take decisions without waiting for orders from above. Far from being rebellious, I think this would nicely counterbalance Michael's way of always waiting for orders."
"And who would you suggest as the Angel of Guardians, Azrael?" asked Raziel sceptically.
"Why, the answer is obvious: Rshkiel was the former Angel of Guardians and he lived among humans, so he can understand them better than any of us."
"Can we trust him?" said Mettatron bluntly.
Azrael eyed him thoughtfully.
"The decision is of course yours but your distrust of Delilah led to her death. She trusted Rshkiel, to the point of them being blood brothers. You have to learn to trust others and stop seeing evil everywhere."
"Blasphemy!"
"Shut up, Vileyam," said Azrael casually. "We're talking seriously and have no time for your childish protestations. Besides you should let your betters do the talking."
Azrael was so shamelessly insulting that nobody reacted at first. Gabriel and Raphael looked down, trying to hide their smile. Michael almost choked and Raziel was grinning openly. Mettatron transformed his laugh into a cough and ended up coughing for real.
"Point taken, Azrael," he said as soon as he could talk. "Now be nice to the old school."
Vileyam looked deeply hurt and Raziel grinned wider.
"Anyway, Azrael, since it's your idea, you'll bear the responsibility. Rshkiel, welcome back among us and take the place that is - apparently - rightly yours."
Rshkiel almost couldn't believe his ears.
"Thank you, Azrael."
"She would have wanted that."
Rshkiel nodded painfully and looked at Tyrael still stricken with grief.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"For what?"
"For the demon armies. Don't believe they need organisation. They are already ready."
"Who leads them?"
"Rashiel, probably. He's an opportunist."
Tyrael's face hardened.
"Let's go then. I have a revenge to take."
"If you don't mind, Rashiel is mine."
The two Angels looked at each other, the same deep pain in the eyes, and understood.
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