The Of Azrael Novels & Stories

He looked at rest, but I knew better. Azrael, the fallen angel of death. They are responsible for the separation of souls from the host, that is, the body. Of course, they would be the ruler of this realm. I say they, because the Angel of death is gender-neutral, as they appear different to every soul, sometimes males, sometimes female. Azrael often appears like a robed skeleton with a scythe because that is what people expect to see. However, they were currently in their prime, so their true form is shown. Azrael holds a rather benevolent role as the angel of death, wherein they act as a psychopomp, responsible for transporting the souls of the deceased after death. Both in Islam and Judais

He is so happy because he will finally be able to escape this chaotic world and they will be able to fulfill the simple dream of Akira and his as a normal couple. When he arrived at the condo, he immediately took a shower first to be able to clean and to make sure if he hadn't been scratched before. As the water flows through his body you can see the blood of his victims clinging to him gradually flowing into the sink. Azrael’s body is full of scars from his wounds from his previous missions and on his back is a large tattoo— “Deus Mortis” which in Latin means “God of death” is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished.

“And you… stole my crown. And now you’ve brought her into it.” He glanced at me like I was a puzzle, dangerous and fragile all at once. “She doesn’t belong here. Neither of you do. But I will fix that.” The air shifted, heavier now, and the shadows leaned in closer to us. The underworld itself seemed to shiver at Kael’s presence. Before I could react, Azrael appeared. Not in judgment — not yet — but with the weight of eternity pressing down. Wings of iridescent white, sword sheathed at his side, eyes glowing with warning.

“Sleep, my light. Until the world is peaceful enough for you to wake.” Above, blood tears stopped falling. Valenfort’s sky turned pure black for the first time in years. But deep below, where earth still warmed — something stirred. Azrael — the sealed one — opened his eyes. Crimson light reflected in his pupils. A cracked smile echoed in the night: “Thank you, Lucien… you opened the final lock.”

“Y-You are Eli?” Elder Lucriel stared at Azrael and uttered, “You had her eyes…” he paused and stood up from his chair, “What is your name?” he continued while walking towards us and stopped in front of Azrael. Elder Fana also walked towards us and Azrael stood up, “My name is Azrael Shepherd,”

The moon above was cracked in half, bleeding light down onto my skin. Azrael stood before me. Not a monster. Not a god. Just a man with silver eyes and a grief so deep, it pulsed like a second heartbeat. “You think you’re alone,” he said. “But every time you chose love over power, you became more than me.” I wanted to ask him what he meant—but he was already fading. “The bond didn’t make you. You did.”

“You don’t know Sariyah like I do.” That shuts him up. Because I do. I know how close Ember lives to the edge of becoming something terrible. I know how much she hates the world for letting men be taken and cities rot and gods lie. Most importantly, I know how easily Sariyah’s lies could feel like permission. The torches flicker the shadows along the far wall move. I spin just as heat rolls through the cell dry, ancient, and wrong. Azrael steps out of nothing wings I have never seen are half-manifested. His expression is calm, too calm. Every instinct I have goes nuclear.

He snarled and kicked the vase off the table and it shattered against the floor. Chiara threw her head back in laughter, her body shook lightly as the vibrations of the sound ran through her body. She stopped laughing and she stood up. She moved closer to him and whispered to him, "I love it when you become untethered, there is no better sight in the world." He gasped and staggered backwards away from her. His hazel eyes seemed unfocused, like he was in a trance of some kind. The back of his knees hit her bed and he fell on it.

He was called the symbol of primordial power. His spirit has a wide range of emotions and qualities. He was cloaked with the power of controlling elements like fire, water, air. He is Zayaan, the youngest angel amongst all. He was the one who convinced other angels to support the evil one. When the other angels were falling on the earth, he hid on a lonely abandoned planet. He thought he could hide from the powerful archangels, but he was wrong. Once, they came to punish him. He ran towards a new planet named earth. He thought to follow his favorite angel, the devil.

He looked up at me, then back to the stone, and spoke two words, clear and resonant in the twilight air: "Shniela triasdrea." The words hung in the air, imbued with an ancient power. A tangible magic began to swirl around us, a gentle whirlwind of unseen energy that made my hair stand on end. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ceased. The air before us did not just shimmer; it warped, twisting like heated glass. Through that shimmering veil, a city woven from moonlight and living crystal appeared, its towers piercing the twilight, a breathtaking vision of impossible beauty. Aelindoria.