Raphael

Author's Note: This short story was written several years ago as part of a series. Enjoy.


"How long has it been?" asked Raphael, moving slowly across the cold, marble floor. The figure standing just a few feet from him was clothed in a dark robe, the hood pulled up tightly to obscure his face with blackness.

He stood there in silence.

"I bet its been at least 100 years," said Raphael, drawing closer. "Come now, Ezra. Is this silence really necessary. Here, in the bowels of the Vatican. It's more like a dungeon than a place of worship. Why do you come here?"

Ezra slowly pulled back the hood of the robe, revealing long, white hair. His eyes were dark, partly from the deep shadows and flickering candles surrounding them, and partly from something else. Something foreboding.

"It helps me think," he said quietly, turning to face the sarcophagus where the candles had been placed. Inside were the bones of Saint Peter, although the tomb bore another name. Humans could be so careless with their history, but little escaped the angels that roamed the Earth. Smells, tastes... They held answers the humans could never see.

"It's time, Ezra." Raphael was standing behind his larger counterpart, practically whispering in his ear. "The prophecy has been fulfilled. We can no longer stand with them."

Ezra turned to face Raphael, who's pale skin shown almost white in the candlelight. "The prophecy isn't what troubles me, brother. It was a matter of time, and something those of us that watch over the humans knew was coming, and learned to accept eons ago."

Raphael averted his gaze as soon as his eyes met Ezra's, letting his vision fall to the gray, marble floor. "Then what is it that bothers you so?" he asked.

Ezra stared at his friend, never breaking his gaze. "How much you and some of the other angels are enjoying these last days. I know how you have prayed for the end of mankind's rein, how you have looked forward to seeing them fall."