Azrael Novels & Stories

//VESPER// What followed had no name. It was something that only existed in the space between slaughter and sacrament, between nightmare and ritual. The unfamiliar man in the middle went first. Azrael moved toward him with an unhurried gait, and the man’s sobs became a high, keening wail that vibrated in my chest. He tried to crawl away on his knees, leaving a trail of urine behind him, but Azrael caught him by the ankle and dragged him back. The man clawed at the pavement, his fingernails leaving scored lines in the grime, and when he opened his mouth to scream, Azrael drove his thumb into his ey

His sole focus was on finding her, on locating Athena amidst the chaos. “Where the fuck is she, Hans?” Azazel growled like one of the lions of the Sabi sands. Hans remained silent, his hands snapping together in a signal. In response, another man entered the room. Azazel's gaze narrowed as he recognized the familiar face, a sense of recognition tugging at his memory. There was something about this man, something he had seen before, but the details eluded him. Then, he noticed the man's missing eye, a distinct feature that triggered a surge of disbelief within Azazel.

Ava's POV: Time passed by in a flash. But to be honest, I didn't even know how many days I had been trapped here. Things were the same here in Underworld. Dark grey sky in the mornings. Dark grey sky in the nights. But one thing was for sure. I had somehow died. And ended up here, in the Underworld. And Underworld really existed. And I was trapped here with the only guy I shouldn't have been trapped with. Hayden, the so called Lord of the Dead.

Azrael and Astria, my precious babies, are lying on the bed, looking adorable in their outfits. Azrael, my little gentleman, is dressed in a miniature suit that makes him look uncannily like his father, Hades. He exudes a sense of maturity, despite his tender age. His dark hair is perfectly messy, and his bright eyes sparkle with mischief. Astria, my tiny princess, is a vision in pink. Her dress accentuates her dark curls, making them pop against her porcelain skin. She looks like a ballerina, ready to twirl across the stage. Her eyes shine with excitement, and I can sense her eagerness to explore.

Then, standing with her hands over the ashes, she starts her chant. - Cande cineres Maiorum meorum, qui laesi mortui sunt, surge et fac angelum dubitare. fac Angelum nuntiare avunculo iter per hebdomadam morari. (Latin translation - White ashes of my ancestors, who died wronged, rise and make Angel doubt. Make Angel tell his uncle to delay the trip for a week.) The ashes slowly turn into steam, which rises and passes under the door. Traveling the distance between the rooms, it enters under the door, where Angel rests from the new attempt on his life.

Auntie Skyler begins, her voice cautious yet welcoming, “this is Azrael. They have come seeking your aid.” Azrael steps forward, the shadows swirling around them as they finally lower their hood. A face both ancient and ageless gazes upon me, eyes filled with wisdom that seems to pierce straight through to my soul. I feel a jolt of recognition deep within me, as if some long-forgotten memory stirs at the sight of this enigmatic stranger. “Savage,” Azrael speaks, their voice a melodic blend of whispers and echoes, “the time has come for you to fulfill your destiny. The realms are in peril, and only

I rolled my eyes, lowering my gaze to look back at my wrist as I reached to grab my now full mug, feeling also a little offended even though I still had no idea what was that stupid mark. “You don’t have to stare at it like that, though.” My eyes suddenly snapped up to his once I've felt him quickly grab my shoulders, turning me aside to face him. “Do you even understand the gravity of this situation?” He practically yelled in my face, sounding extremely alarmed, his tone dripping with seriousness. “Huh?” My eyebrows shot up, obviously taken aback by his sudden outburst. “Blake, Azrael is one of the Horsemen,” He kept ranting as I simply stared up at him, clue

Kael didn't answer. Celine stepped closer. “Dad.” Kael looked at her. “You owe me the truth.” He closed his eyes briefly. “His name was Azrael.” The name seemed to make the chamber colder. Rowan whispered, “Azrael.” “You've heard it?” “Only in the old Blackwood records.” “What did they say?” “That he was a king.” Kael nodded. “He was more than a king.” Celine waited. “He was one of the first humans to discover the Source.”

💀 So it created something. Something to erase every possibility. Something to return everything to nothing. 🖤 That thing became… The Nameless Hunger. ⸻ 🌙 Azrael’s Truth For the first time… Azrael stepped fully out of the broken seal. 👁️🔴 No longer just an eye. No longer just a voice. 🌑 A tall figure clothed in crimson shadows. 💀 The Forgotten God. ⸻ Everyone froze. Because Azrael wasn’t terrifying.

Lila followed the ritual exactly — black candles, fresh blood from her palm, the ancient words spoken at midnight under a blood moon. The air grew thick and hot. The candles flared unnaturally high. Then the shadows in the room coalesced into something massive. He stepped out of the darkness like he owned it. Azrael was beautiful in the most terrifying way. Towering over seven feet tall, with obsidian skin that seemed to drink in light, glowing crimson eyes, and a muscular body carved from pure sin. Horns curved back from his head, and massive black wings were folded behind him. His presence filled the room with raw, ancient power.