Aziraphale Bible Novels & Stories

Dust motes spiraled through the shafts of late afternoon light, settling on rows of books that seemed to be holding their breath. Which meant something was happening elsewhere in the house. And that meant Autumn wasn’t telling her everything again. Jade set aside her notes and flipped back through the Veilwalker Apocrypha, an unofficial, unapproved collection of personal spells, protection rites, and "soul-binding risks" that the Council had once banned. She’d borrowed it from Dominic’s private archive without asking. She found the passage at the very back. Handwritten. Tucked between two pages with salt-burned corners:

He waited for the room to empty before he slipped into a dark, narrow hallway that led to the highest tower of the Iron Walls. The air was freezing. He reached a small stone balcony where the wind bit at his skin. A large, grey Raven was waiting there. Its eyes didn’t look like a bird’s eyes, they glowed with an unnatural, sickly yellow light. Alexander reached out, his hand shaking slightly. He untied a small scroll from the Raven's leg. As soon as he touched the paper, the smell of sulfur filled the air. He unrolled the message. The words were written in dark, shimmering ink that seemed to move on the page. It was a message from the Azrael, a creature who wanted Jinx just as much as Seraph

Chapter 27 — Kane's POV Even hours after Aria's display in the sacred grove, I could still feel the residual power humming through our mate bond. I decided to go to the library to get some answers. “Who is Azrael? What does he want with Aria.” The pack library was quiet at this late hour, but my mind was anything but peaceful. I searched for ancient texts and scrolls, keeping it all on my desk, their musty pages holding secrets. As I was searching, a journal caught my eyes, I picked it and opened it.

The air grew colder, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shapes on the walls, as if the very spirits of our ancestors were watching us. We entered a dimly lit chamber adorned with ancient tapestries depicting forgotten battles. In the center stood an ornate pedestal, upon which rested a weathered tome bound in dragonhide. The elder gestured for us to approach, her expression grave. “This book holds the key to your lineage and the truth of the shadows that haunt you.” As I reached for the tome, a sudden rush of energy surged through me, and I felt Ari stir within. “Be careful, Zayla,” she warned, her voice echoing in my mind. “Not all knowledge is meant to be uncovered.”

“We’ve been using halves of their methods without even knowing it.” Azeriel knelt near an inscription etched into the floor. “Rowan. Lyra. Come here. This is written in old fire script.” Rowan crouched next to him, squinting at the faint letters. “Can you read it?” “Some of it.” Azeriel ran his thumb gently across the symbols. “It says something about the heart of the mountain. A well of steady flame. A guide. A guardian. And…” He paused. “A warning.”

So I went to King Phillip and demanded part of his army come help land an attack on the Stauckana Barbarians so I could win back my woman, My love, My Elizabella. He denied me at first, but I thought up a different strategy. I told him of how the barbarians harboured the Silvertongue charm, the one that could help us decipher the Book of Azazel. The Book of Azazel—everyone knows the story. It is the book with a mysterious unknown language that can only be deciphered with the help of the Silvertongue. Only then would King Phillip…or me…gain world domination.

Some looked familiar from childhood fairy tales, horror movies, that phase in college when I thought being into witchcraft was a personality. But then I saw the drawing of a tall, old fashioned doll, dressed in funeral lace and holding a black rose. I knew that doll. I’d know that face anywhere. My pulse quickened. The section beside it was handwritten, a translation pinned into the book later with different ink. Someone had written the word “Azariel” three times, each in a different script. Underneath, a single line. “He who waits in porcelain, flesh restrained, power chained and desire undying.”

Kneeling beside it, I wasted no more time and pulled the huge book out, my slightly trembling hands sloppily skimming over the pages, until I’ve finally reached the section I wanted, like a burglar fearing of getting caught, my gaze hurriedly skipping over the words, “His name originates from the hebrew word “Rafa’el” meaning “God heals” ...After Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer, he is the fourth Archangel created by God... compassionate...caring... He is often associated with joy and laughter... Physical and spiritual healer... Considered one of God’s most obedient, good children...” Exhaling a small, shaky breath, the book fell on its own accord on the carpeted floor with a small but audible t

The woman had finally made it out from under her comrade and knelt in disbelief next to what was left of Gian. "Headquarters? It killed Gian and Cristiano disappeared. I need reinforcements immediately and I ... ", she said with an effort, back into the air. No, it wouldn't, it couldn't come anymore, thought Azrael seriously. "His head and hair were white as white wool, bright white as snow, and his eyes like flames of fire, his legs shone like gold ore that glows in the furnace, and his voice was like the rush of water," he continued to recite from the Bible.

Their gaze settled on their friend. "Was this-" "Yes, Lee. This is the true zypherious. The power of the god" Zypherious god; it was the mighty, supreme ultimate magic of the air. The very peak of its ability. If Ezekeil's zypherious assoure can be lethal then, Zeldour very own Zypherious is undestructable. The ancient barrier magic that been gifted to him.