Chapter Text
''Watch out!''
Strife darted his gaze around him, nudging at his younger brother and sister. ''The Well! It's falling apart!''
''We must leave, Now!'' War yelled back, diving away just in time before he got hit by a piece of rock. Strife pointed at the hall that leads to the entrance where they came from.
The Four Horsemen were standing at the centre of the Well of Souls, accompanied by the Angel of Death. Stone and debris fell from the ceiling, clattering against the platform. The runes of the black stones levitating around the room have turned from a bright blue into a pitchblack. Far beneath, the whirlwind of souls started to spasm, getting more and more violent the longer and harder it spinned. The Well is starting to get out of control. It's collapsing!
The premature End War and the Corruption that nestled itself deep into the Well had eventually taken its toll. If they won't leave now, it would without a doubt mean that they are going down with the rest of it. They must go.
The Horsemen sprinted as fast as they could, Strife just managed to dodge a runic stone. Before they entered the hall leading back to the outside world, Death stopped and looked back once he noticed the angel hadn't been following.
Instead, he stood at the exact same place, his back in the direction of the Horseman. Grand wings sank onto the floor, his head tilted downwards. He wasn't moving. What was he doing?
''Azrael!'' Death yelled. ''What are you doing?!
No response.
''Azrael!''
Fury called back. ''Brother, we must leave!''
But her brother didn't hear it, or if he did he simple ignored. ''Angel! Get back here!'' He barked again, hoping the command would get the angel to listen. But then...
''You must go.''
Death stood there. His eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before it changed into an enraged frown. ''What?! Are you a fool?''
''Go now, Horseman.''
But he kept standing there. ''Don’t be ridiculous! Come here right this instance Azrael!'' He has no time for this, they must go now if they wish to survive this. Fury called back for him to follow once more, the other two stopped in their tracks and looked back to see what was going on.
Finally, he turned his shoulder and looked at the enraged Horseman, his voice was hoarse and shaking slightly. ''I must fix this, Death!''
''How-'' He merely managed jumped out of the way before another piece of debris could splat him as he made his way back. Now, even the platform started to tremble under his feet. ''You can't fix this!''
Azrael's entire body turned to face the Rider, this time it was the angel who yelled. ''I am the Angel of Death! Steward of the Underworld and Keeper of the Well of Souls! You of all people should know this like no other!'' His eyes shone brighter than they did before and magic started to glow around the angel's hands. ''It's my duty to restore it, I have no other choice!'' White wings stretched out into full capacity. ''I cannot let it fall to ruin!''
Fury screeched and ran back to get her brother to safety, but just then a huge chunk of stone fell onto the path before her. The pathway crumbled into pieces and disappeared into the depths below. She looked up at Death, who was on the other side of the path, and screamed once she saw a large boulder falling straight downwards towards the other two. ''Death!''
Before Death could realize what was going on, Azrael used his magics to conjure a shield above their heads. The boulder crashed into it loudly and shattered, the broken pieces disappeared into the bottom of the Well. Soon, Strife and War moved their way towards Fury and pulled her back from the danger.
''Then I shall finish doing what I was designed to do.'' The angel started. White eyes met burning orange ones. ''We must all pay for our sins,'' he breathed. ''I have done... something horrible, Death. I... If this is the way to make up for my mistakes... If the Creator grants me this one chance to make things right again...'' the once calm and collected voice broke, raw emotion took over as he spoke which sent the Rider shivers down his spine. . He looked up towards the top of the Well, and then closed his eyes.
''Azrael, no...'' Death shook his head. He knew what he was going to do.''You fool, don't-''
''Then so be it.''
The angel took a step back, spreads his wings wide and launched himself straight into the air.
''AZRAEL!'' The Nephilim had now snapped. ''Bastard, get back!''
Death tried to grasp for the angel, but only managed to yank off one of the blue ribbons that hung onto the angel's golden pauldrons. He watched as he flew up and magic started to glow all around him, it's golden colour nearly blinding the Horseman. He flinched and growled in distress
Now was a chance! Fury unleashed Scorn from her hilt and sweeped it forward towards her brother, grappling him by the waist. ''War! Help me, will you?!''
War grasped the barbed wire with his metal hand and pulled as hard as he could manage, flinging his brother back over from the platform towards them. The three of them stood ready to catch their Eldest brother, and then dragged him along to make a run for it.
''NOW WE LEAVE!'' screamed Fury.
''Couldn't agree more!'' yelled Strife.
Death took one last glance at the angel before he got pulled along. Eventually he shrugged himself free and ran along with his siblings towards the entrance. Stone and debris kept falling behind them. There it is, the door!
As quick as their legs could muster the four siblings ran as fast as they could. Closer, getting closer, almost there.
They all jumped out of the hallway and into the open.
And then the doors closed.
The four siblings crashed onto the ground before them and stayed there for a good minute, struggling to catch their breath. It had been a close call, this one. They were once again in Lostlight. Golden clouds and rays of the setting sun welcomed them back to the land of the angels, a stark contrast to the black and blue from the Well they just barely managed to escape from. Death stared at the door to the Well of Souls. From the outside, it seems as if nothing had happened.
Strife was the first one to get up, cracking his shoulder as he got up. Then shot a look at his older brother. ''That...'' He took of his mask, revealing his face. Bright yellow eyes still keeping it's gaze towards the Reaper.
War crouched up. Before his brother could continue, he gently places his right hand against his shoulder. The youngest shook his head and gave him a look. Now is indeed not the time to bicker about it. Fury got up from the ground and glanced to the three brothers. Then her gaze quickly locked upon the Well of Souls.
''Do you think...'' Started Strife, breaking the silence.
War lowered his head and looked at the ground before him, inhaling deep through his nose. They were all silent once more.
Fury glanced from the youngest over to her twin, then shook her head. ''I am afraid not.'' She stared in front of her, inspecting the carvings and finishings. Then she looked more closely at the two keyholes.
Silence… Then the Black Rider opened her mouth.
''Hey.''
''What?'' the Rider of the White Horse responded.
''Which one of us was in charge of the keys again?''
Now all four of them looked up at the keyholes, then at each other. They keys. The Angel key and the Demon Key. Those pesky keys Death had to go through Heaven and Hell for in order to get into the Well of Souls, to in turn defeat Corruption and to sacrifice the Nephilim to clear War's name. Those two damned keys..
... And neither of them have them.
''They're inside.'' Death muttered softly. He was the only one who still sat on the floor. ''Azrael took them... Before it escalated into...'' he paused.
''Death...'' Fury carefully approached him. Strife and War followed her lead. For the first time in eons, they haven’t seen the Elder this… Troubled.
She held out a hand, offering to help the raven haired man get up from the floor. He accepted, and got back onto both feet. He doesn’t seem to want to look at her, or any of his brothers for that matter, though. He just keeps staring in front of him at presumably nothing, without breathing a single word. The others couldn’t help but stand there, awkwardly.
Not for long, though. War turned away, straightening his hood. ‘’We must go on.’’ Strife and Fury looked at him, then back to Death before giving one another a nod.
‘’We should.’’ Strife agreed. He followed War, who had already started to walk down the path of the Tree. Fury briefly followed them, but it took only a few steps before turning around to notice that Death hadn’t moved at all.
The woman was now getting annoyed by his brother’s behavior. ‘’Death, there is nothing we can do. We must go on with the mission, there is no time for stopping now.’’ In the distance, the two brother stopped in their tracks and gazed back at the others. Waiting.
Death shook his head. ‘’Go ahead, I’ll find you.’’
‘’You expect us to just leave you he-’’
‘’Fury.’’ His voice was cold and flat. ‘’Don’t start this. Not now.’’
The battlemage bit the inside of her cheek, looking her brother up and down. Now is indeed not the time, but she sees that arguing about it right now is not the best of options. Eventually, she gave in. ‘’We’ll be heading towards Tri-Stone. You can find us there.’’
Death glanced back at her and gave a slight nod. His sister sighed, before she eventually took her leave. The last thing the Pale Rider saw were his sibling entering the portal leading to the realm of the Makers.
Once he was sure that his siblings left him and that he's all alone, he stared back at the door. He stepped close enough to it until he stood face to face with it. The Pale Rider reached out, opened his hand and rested his palm against the massive door. His fingers twitched and stretched out on the surface. His breath shook.
He kept standing there. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour... He looked down at the ribbon in his hand…
And then he sank through his knees.
Dust joined him on the ground, gazing at his troubled master in utmost confusion. What was going on? The crow shares a bond with the Nephilim. Sure, he could feel that he was upset but did not quite understand why. Did something terrible happen within that accursed well?
Then Dust tilted his head and noticed the ribbon clutched in the Rider's bony hand. And then he understood. And carefully creeped closer against him.
None uttered a single sound.
A Nephilim and his crow mourn the loss of an old friend.