Deepest Darkness

3. The Night Before

"Damn him! Damn him to hell and back— Urgh!!!" Raynare slammed the underside of her fist onto a stone table, sending a spiderweb of cracks down its legs.

Her supernatural strength received a greater effect when accounting for her anger, which nearly boiled over completely. The base of operations she was able to procure— the abandoned church, shook at her enraged touch.

If rumors were to be believed, the church itself was several hundred years old, at least over a century. A mere one tenth of her own age and shameful in its appearance compared to her radiant beauty. Nevertheless, she would likely regret destroying it due to her own misplaced anger.

But could one blame her? Even now, she could still see those red eyes. They were piercing. They were absolute. They were everything she desired; they were Anos Voldigoad's.

Raynare, let out a deep, bated breath. Her throat still hurt.

Being so engrossed in her own self loathing and partial... something for the man who so thoroughly trounced her pride, it left her unaware of her allies or better yet, closest friends looking on at her in concern.

"I guess now isn't the greatest time to—"

"Shut it." It annoyed Raynare to explain things she didn't understand herself but their dumbfounded looks were at the very least amusing.

"Someone's pissy."

Now, Raynare fully turned to her small posse of fallen angels. The short sadistic blonde of the group always had something to say at someone's expense. This time it was hers. Mittelt clamps her mouth shut when Raynare sends her a glare.

"Raynare." An older voice took her attention. She was a blue-haired buxom woman of tall stature, Kalawarna was what she went by, "we can't just look the other way. This human as you put it. He bested you and used unknown magic. He's a threat. More than that, we can't let him live after doing this to you."

Kalawarna was the first to greet Raynare when she returned.

Raynare; who was covered in dried blood and dirt, audibly sobbing.

Raynare; who seethed in anger after retelling the events that led her to this sorry state.

Kalawarna had never seen Raynare like that before, and the two fallen had known each other for half a millennia. This is where they are now.

Raynare carefully heard the older fallen's words. There were few things in the world that Raynare would attest to and that was the honesty of her friends. Kalawarna was willing to avenge her humiliation and the blue-haired fallen would no doubt make good on her promise.

"I know," Raynare bit her lip. She looked at the two, "but forget about him. Don't pursue him. Don't engage with him. Don't even think about him. He's strong. Too. Damn. Strong. I fear he has the strength to defeat Lord Kokabiel... maybe even Lord Azazel himself."

"That's crazy talk, Ray," Mittelt reasoned. She trusted her friend but that did not mean she would be so easily convinced. He was a human, without a Sacred Gear. He couldn't be compared to a twelve-winged fallen angel. The founder of the Grigori no less.

Mittelt turned to Kalawarna who also wasn't one to one with such a claim. It was... rather hard to believe such a thing.

However, Lord Azazel is someone that Raynare idolizes. Someone who she would never ever disappoint or diminish. To hear her friend admit such a thing was cause for concern.

"Listen," Raynare warned them, not because she needed them for her plan but because she genuinely cared enough to let them know. They were all weaved from the same clouds and ether of heaven— all once pure angels who shared the first layer of paradise as family.