The Angelmakers Novels & Stories

Angels. Not metaphorical angels or angels in the sense of pretty people with wings. No, these were actual angels—massive, terrifying beings made of light and fire and impossible beauty. They carried golden weapons, blazed with divine power, and there were so many of them that they completely filled the throne room.

Blake said, wanting to know all that there is to this Angel. “His name is Aazrael, and he’s known as an Archangel. They receive this honor when cultivating more than two wings, and their power doubles for each set of wings they acquire. They cultivate the Power of Faith. The more worshipers they have, the more power they receive, but the power of faith is not infinite; hence, the God wars happened about three hundred years ago. I was killed by my lover Azrael during this time. He never loved me and used my connections to do away with the remaining gods who didn’t cultivate the Power of Faith, like me, who collected the Qi of the Stars.” Maia paused here as she tried to collect herself.

We drove the dagger and shard into the ground, light erupting, the cage shattering, the mirror collapsing, the void’s scream—my scream—mixing with hers, the shadow’s, as they vanished, not gone but pushed back, the chaos retreating, the cliffs stilling. We fell, Lucian catching me, Lyra beside us, the bond burning—us, alive, together. Killian and Mara staggered up, bloodied, wide-eyed. “Another one?” Killian gasped, his staff broken, his face pale. “How many damn Angels are there?” I clutched the dagger, the mark pulsing, Lyra’s shard glowing, the bond steadying me. “Four,” I said, my voice hoarse, the truth crushing me. “Lock, spark, flame, void. The Veil’s not just breaking—it’s us.”

Angel was a kind of drug. ‘Alright, maybe it is…’ He stilled for a second, caught in a deep thought. ‘It’s an obsession.’ Angel was… delicious, yes, but it wasn't just about the physical pleasure. It was about need. A desperate, all consuming need to ground himself back to reality. Angel’s presence was warm. Real. His—and nobody else’s. To mark him. Bind him. Own him in ways no one else ever could. But was that really it? Was that… love?

He took a seat in a high back chair across from me, and settled in, sighing several times. “The women were kidnapped” he started, “not by us, however. There are two very different groups of angels at play, you happen to have landed in the correct faction. You see, one group is indeed kidnapping and raping women to create more of their offspring” he said, wrinkling his nose in a look of disgust. “Shamshiel and those who work with him believe this is wrong, and as such intercept and rescue the women, there is no agenda to procreate with them. Which is unfortunately why their group is smaller in number than the other.”

The original peace treaty still lay in the position it had millenniums beforehand, untouched by visitors. Dusty pages flipped silently. Words flew threw his mind at inhuman speed. He had been reading about the unwritten rule of pureblood angels. These angels were to only be royalty, however it came with a deadly price. Many of these newborns were ticking time bombs of anguish and destruction, having the power to level entire cities. Some never made it past infancy. This caused a very large shortage in heirs to the throne, with only one child surviving every millennium.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of divine energy from the seals. At last, he reached the final gate. The great runes recognized his touch, flickering reluctantly before parting. Inside, the forgotten Archangels sat in their radiant cages: Gabriel separated from them is inside a silver cage laced with Sanctis Venin, the Holy Bane. It is a forbidden poison that only Na'ara knows. A poison she made herself. From her pure essence of corruption mixed with demon blood and a tear of a mortal saint. It causes excruciating burning inside angelic vessels, as if their holiness is turning against them.

“That was a joke, sorceres girl. I guess you simply shove it. How should I know? It’s you sorcereses who keep Addict angels locked up and cruelly train them as if they need saving simply because they’ve become addicted to the joys of humanity. Although, admittedly, that risks them joining the ranks of the Fallen.” I blinked. “Imagine that I understand nothing.” “Ridiculously simple to do.” Mischief snatched my hair, at the same motherent that he slammed my hand onto the door. “Behind here, lies an angel who has done nothing worse than love humans. Merely by being on Earth, however, and outside Angel World, we angels slowly become Fallen angels. If I were to step outside the spelled protectio

“-the archangel's right. I saw a shadow black as pitch on the Metro. Had no idea what the hell it was doing. It just stood there over the subway grate. Watching.” “They're Watchers, he said. Like from the legends of old-” “Don't say such a thing! Such evil never walked the earth. Those are lies the angels tell so we don't dare to question their actions.” The bar fell silent as Samael entered. He sighed and slumped into my seat, ink stains on his face. “I'm exhausted,” Samael bemoaned. “You're crushing me!” He ignored me. “Women's thighs are delightfully soft. Damien, is there any vodka?- ah.” He tipped the bottle towards me as he scanned the ledger. “Want some, maggot? I apprec

Their voices echo from nowhere, as if carried through space itself. They think themselves gods. But they’re only angels. Gabriel presides. At his side, the others: Uriel, Raphael, Michael… Angels — the damned landlords of the universe. Humans have it wrong. These bastards never show mercy. They’re nothing but celestial bureaucrats. — Caelith’s vicarius was attacked in his own territory — Azrion starts. — Sentinels. I want authorization to strike back at that church. The six murmur among themselves, their words sealed from my ears.