The End

[Living_Hellfire]

Circa 4,357,492,237 AD.

 

The Angel on Fire hung in the black as he watched Sol devour the solar system. What was once a source of life and light had, over the course of time, as predicted by his uncle, become a dark, red and angry monster that now consumed the world he had protected for billions of years. You will never die! His uncle's words echoed in his head as he watched his home burn for the last time. Oh, make no mistake, you will die over and over but you've nowhere to go! Unwelcome Upstairs and banished from Downstairs he had nothing left to do but to hang in the vacuum of space, a conduit for vengeance he denied, a vessel for hatred he rejected.

 

He had tried to plunge himself into the devouring maw as it consumed the world, but he had been thrown back, whole cloth. He had tried it over and over, but there was no relief. He would outlive even the stars. There wasn't much left of the planet anyway. Humanity had long since departed, having stripped it of its resources, mined it for the materials it would need to step out into the universe on its own and yet he could never let it go. He stayed, all this time. It was where his mother had birthed him. Where his father had taught him to be a man, to be an Angel. It was where he had learned to fish. It was where he had made friends and fallen in love. It was where he had found peace and war and strife and comfort. It was his life.

 

But he could not argue with Grandfather's plan.

 

He thought of the battles he had fought, too many to count. The allies and enemies, those that would destroy him, those that would provide succor, sometimes even changing sides. He thought of the smiles he had been granted by mortals, the thanks he had been given. He thought of the oaths of revenge and enmity hurled at him. He thought of his adopted families, over and over as he had dared to love despite knowing what would eventually come. A great mortal philosopher once said "Memento Mori" but it was not so for The Angel and he hung there, in the black.

 

He turned his back to the world that had birthed him and faced the cosmos. He recalled a time when he sat on the dock of his little fishing village with his father. Remember, Fergus, there will always be others. You will never be like them, but you can care for them.

 

He willed himself forward, into the dark. He did not turn back to face the devastation wrought upon his home. He did not glance at Mars or Jupiter or Venus as he headed towards The North Star, past the Oort Cloud and into the vast emptiness of space. In search of a new home and of a new family. He would be the protector they needed, the guiding light in the dark. He would be the burnt orange flame in the night sky that would signal to all those that would do harm that justice had come.

 

The Angel on Fire carried on.

Edited Monday at 10:20 PM by Living_Hellfire