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The Death of the Legendary Lionborn

Spirit Walkers are hidden among the mortals of the Earth. They do not notice them because they are too busy with their own lives. For millions of years, humans have gossiped, gotten to know each other and never wondered what happened in the spirit world. Of course, this world is well hidden from them anyways. Sometimes, spiritual wars break out among the good and evil. Again, the mortals do not see them because they are too absorbed in texting and other such nonsense. The ones who do are considered special and most of the time do not say a word.


"Alea, promise me after this war, we'll fight alongside each other if we cross paths again," Azrael pleaded.


"I promise my friend," she said, blood leaking from her sides.


They were at war with Satan's general, Azrak. It had been raging on for several years. During these years, Azrael had learned the ways of an assassin while Alea, a master of disguise. They had been companions, spending time together; platonic. They fought, some would say in the name of the Lord, to defeat evil. All this would not help Alea now. Her neck and sides were cut badly and seething with pain. She was looking Death in the face.


"Alea, even now, at the hour of death I see happiness," Azrael said.


Memories flashed through both their minds. She was always there for him. When he became discouraged, she'd put her arm around him and tell him it was alright. She fought excruciatingly well. She was passionate in everything she did. She meant something even with a slight arm motion.


"Keep fighting, Dragonborn. You are the true winner of this game," She closed her eyes. She was gone.


Azrael got angry, "Azrak! Show yourself!"


He appeared with an evil smile on his face, "What are you to do now? Your poor acquaintence does not appear to be looking so well."


This is what made steam rise from Azrael's head. Acquaintence? Who did Azrak think he was? Alea was more than an acquantence. She was the light of the fire, the hope in the hopeless times, the fighting the battle. She was no acquaintence; she was a best friend.


"I am taking you down with or without Alea. You will NOT hurt anyone anymore."


The battle went on between them for quite sometime. Soon enough, seven others came along. They did not mean to disturb a battle. They were angels passing through, but helped Azrael. Though their power was enough to kill Azrak, they spared his life and trapped him in eternal jail. No soul is able to leave unless God or Satan releases that soul.


After the seven angels whom the names of were not mentioned helped Azrael defeat Azrak, he took Alea and carried her for several miles. She was surprisingly heavy, but he did not mind. He brought her body to the nearest town and dropped her there. Azrael knelt down at the fallen soldier and looked her over. A strange breeze swept over him as he kissed her cold, dead forehead.


"You really are gone," he smiled, "or you would've punched me in the face. It would've hurt too."


Azrael was glad. He had defeated Azrak and avenged Alea. Hopefully now his life would be at peace. He was sore. Azrael could not hold himself up as he tried to walk away from Alea's body. All at once, he dropped dead by her feet.



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