Jakkon

Rotting organs spewed across the altar as Jakkon roared.  He speared his claws into Samael's forearm.  He wrenched his head free from Samael's grip, rolling forwards and driving his feet straight into Samael's jaw.  Samael cursed.  He grabbed Jakkon's wings and snapped them.  It was almost ritualistic as they dealt each blow.  Trading kicks that would knock a whale dead.  Exchanging a slicing punch for a stranglehold that left brains drooling from the nostril.

Jakkon tore Samael's guts from his chest.  They fell in a pile to the ground and writhed like snakes, then launched themselves at the Watcher.  Intestines bound his limbs.

  Samael bent Jakkon like a toothpick, snapping him in two.  But that was not his end.  I watched in horror as his flesh rebinded itself, indestructible.  Their roars made it clear that, though immortal, they were friends with pain just the same.

“Samael,” Jakko