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Shepherd of Fire

I Am Your Guilt

"It's been days, Tal." Shadows paced His chamber, dried blood tears on His face. His Queen, the mother of His children, laid on their bed, surrounded by her formerly weeping but now dozing children. He'd been able to keep James away for about a day, but eventually he had to see his mother. Right now it was the dead of night and they were both asleep, Andy's long, skinny arms protectively around his little, older brother.

Shadows' heart ached. He couldn't lose her. They'd had so little time together and He had grown to love her, something He never even knew was possible. She'd been fashioned from all the best things in Hell just for Him--why would fate take her away so soon?
He knew this was in retribution for their actions and cursed Himself for being so vain.

Regret--that was something He'd only felt on a few occasions over the ages of time. But He felt it now. He hadn't slept at all over the last few days--He was either pacing, attempting to conjure dark magic (which hadn't worked), or trying to comfort His two sons. Andy, of course, found comfort in only one thing--which His Father was able to give Him but only once in His grief.
James stayed by his mother's side every single moment, sometimes crying, sometimes talking to her as if she were awake--in his incessantly happy manner.

Diem's wound had sealed itself almost immediately, so that she at least wasn't bleeding out. But the edges of the wound had taken on a glowing white light and He knew what it meant--but refused to admit it to Himself. These three days had been spent in a horrible state between anger and sadness and fear.

Talarico had come and gone for those few days--using all the voodoo he knew to try and heal her fully. But nothing had worked. Her beautiful reddish glow that was almost always under her skin was gone and her natural skin color had faded to a dull, pale white. It hurt so deep inside to look at her, to even consider the possibilities. His voodoo man waved his scarves at Him and red eyes met brown.

"You know it's too late, my friend. It's only a matter of time now."

"I'm a dealer of simple choices. For me it's never too late."


Shadows winced when the white light surrounded Him and pulled Him in. His grief combined with the pang of familiarity of what was His birthplace, made His wings snap out of His back and flutter darkly before settling. He couldn't bring Himself to raise His eyes, but He knew the Senate gathered--waiting for Him to walk through the Hall to face Michael. His large form slumped, His shoulders sagging, as shame and regret forced Him forward.

Michael forced the dark feelings of pride and dominance from his heart and mind as the Devil came forward. This was too good. He'd waited through many ages for a chance to humiliate and rule over the Dark One and then He had handed it to them on a silver platter by having His wife kill Barachiel. Michael felt the death deeply--his very soul hurt after so many millennia together. Shadows would most certainly pay the price.

His dark form skulked up to Michael--black pants and sleeveless black shirt showing His horrendous skin markings that made the angels surrounding them want to look away. The usual cut jaw and red eyes and evil stare had been replaced by surrender and sadness and hollow hazel eyes that eventually, slowly raised to meet cool, ice blue.

Michael stood tall, folding his also formidable arms across the gold Maltese cross that adorned his chest.

"Matthew. So wonderful to see you like this."

Shadows winced. His given name sent sharp pains through His ears and shivers through His body. He clenched His jaw closed and His eyes shut, knowing His anger best stay at bay if He was going to walk away from here with anything. Sighing, He finally forced out in a cowering whisper--

"What must I do."

The archangel grinned. He knew he shouldn't enjoy this, but he couldn't help it. His eyes darkened and his skin dulled with the delicious feelings.

"Kneel."

The Dark One's cheeks flushed as He knelt down on one knee, His wings folding around His shoulders to shield Himself from the stares of the Senate.

Michael smirked, drawing out his words so that he could enjoy this moment as long as possible, "Alright, Beast. Your third born is mine, and the Harlot lives."

Shadows closed His eyes again, a single tear slipping down His chiseled face.

"As you wish."


The Wicked One stood over His beloved, knowing He must do what He did not want to. Pouring the glowing liquid onto her wound, it healed magnificently and she gasped awake. Relief washed over His soul and He took her crushingly into His arms. Their two sons joined Him, hugging at their healed mother as she sat up in bed.
Shadows held her head and face in His hands, kissing Her mouth desperately, "I love you, Diem. Don't ever do that to me again, baby."

Notes

HERETIC'S GONNA KILL ME. (so if I don't post for awhile you all know what happened!)
NOW I'M AN ASSHOLE.

When I thought of Shadows kneeling, all I could think of was this scene from Superman II:
(the real Superman, sorry Heretic)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LakXRQbdiUY
start watching at 1:09 :)

Comments

@Buggaloo
A year?! No way! Sooo sorry guys! I do love this story but man am I stuck! Other stories have captivated my attention, plus I'm trying to re-write Blinded into an actual story to try and get printed :)
I will consult with Overneath, she's really great at jumpstarting me sometimes!

violetvictoria violetvictoria
4/24/20

A year, Shade. A whole year. I've been patient. Please?

Buggaloo Buggaloo
4/23/20

It's been 2 months. I'm pouting over here. I need more.

synology synology
5/10/19

@synology
Haha, thanks for the reminder! Good to know this is still being read, lol!!

I need moooore.

synology synology
5/2/19