The branches looked like claws, reaching up to the ominous sky. The harsh breeze pitched them to and fro, and making the hands open and close. The clouds that filled up that sky looked fierce and angry. Blowing in view, and blowing out as soon as they arrived. Below that sky, stood grass, a palish, yet deep green. If any ordinary someone were to stop, and look very closely at each individual blade, they wouldn’t be able to see the little creatures that lived inside them. For these same creatures lived inside the back of their imaginations. In this secluded forest, that really didn’t exist. That bade its self into oblivion, stood Abbadon a winged creature further out of imaginations. He stood bare chested, with skin that looked like thousands of pebbles that made up a large smooth stone wall. His muscular arms stood halt at his sides with the same smoothness. His legs were covered in animal skins, suiting enough for Sitting Bull. But, the most impressive trait was his face. It was without any imperfections, carved from perfect stone. With large shining amethyst eyes, that looked over everything in sight. His lips held a thin forlorn straight line. Connected blackened wings engulfed him in a feathery embrace. Even though multiple feathers were missing, and the wings were misshapen, they were magnificent. Abbadon stood like this, in all of sheer perfectness, starring at the sky. If any ordinary someone had bestowed their eyes upon him, they would have knelt to the ground and conveyed him as their god. Though that was the very least, and most opposite that Abbadon lived. Not that any ordinary person could even set a foot in this forest, because it doesn’t really exist in the first place. “Come on you Grogoch.” Abbadon snarled, as he felt another agonizing rip from his back. If he were to look behind him, he would see a tiny pixie holding one of the brilliant feathers. The pixies giggling themselves into darkness that they traveled. Kicking a rock, he cursed under his breath. He could remember the day quite clearly, as the image flash before his eyes. In the kingdom of the holy, Abbadon stood being lectured by a man in white. “But my Lord, you speak without any sense!” “I do not have to speak in sense, I speak above you, and therefore sense doesn’t matter.” “You are speaking without sense, and your head unclear my Lord.” Abbadon sneered. “You are treating them like creatures at your demise, banishing them if they do not believe in your wrath.” Abbadon grinned as evil as he could, in this holy word. “You’re becoming like him.” The man in white shook with fury, and Abbadon’s grin making his face bright red. “You aren’t to speak to me like that. Especially since you have gone against my orders.” Abbadon dropped the grin. “I let those souls free, because they had no need to disintegrate here.” “Their early reincarnation can cause evil for the world of which I have created!” “Their early reincarnations can cause good for your world.” He barred his teeth. “You’re just worried about their souls! You just want them for your own. What about freewill!” “Abbadon.” the man collected himself. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow your deed to go unpunished. Your arguing has only made me more angry, and made me realize you aren’t fit to be up here. Your deed was an act of evil, and you are hereby banished from heaven. “But my Lord!” “Quiet! To where you be banished to, is a forest unlike any other. It doesn’t exist in the world of the living. It resides in its own universe, and its own world. The only things that reside are creatures of myth, and soulless beings.” “Lord! I cannot leave my post! I’m needed here!” Abbadon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was actually being banished from heaven, from the home he had resided…from the life that conceded him. “You aren’t needed here, your attitude isn’t of our kind.” “Our kind?!” “Silence! I am not done!” the man in white held up a hand. “Every day, pixies from this forest shall rip an agonizing feather from your back. Once your wings are no more, Alsator shall take you to the netherworld, and execute you.” Abbadon stood wide eyed and his mouth gaping. “Abbadon, the Angel of Destruction, I now sentence you to death, with no chance of reincarnation.” Abbadon seethed silently. Everything he had worked for, everything he had lived for, gone. In just a small poof, his life was turned upside down. He was a sentenced man, and by the lights of heaven, that sentence was to be carried out. Or so he thought. A small rustle of leaves, a quiver in the dense undergrowth, protruded a small hairy being. His appearance was that of a short elderly man. Red course fur covered his body, like a dirty old rabbit coat. His eyes were sunken in, looking around as he scuttled about. “Aye, Abbadon.” The hairy being looked up at Abbadon and smiled a dirty smile. “About time Drofgh!” Abbadon sneered, and turned towards the mannish character. “What did you run off for!?” He commanded. An eerie hearty giggle erupted from Drofgh. “The key to your problem young friend.” He held up one bony finger, and scuttled back into the undergrowth. The leaves moved and rustled again and again, until he reappeared with a shiny object in his hand. “What is that?” Abbadon stared down at the man. “It is the object that will save your soul.” “How is it going to save my soul, when I have already been sentenced death?” Drofgh shook his head, making his hair swirl about him in knots. “You have no faith at all do you?” the man paused. “Oh, right, you did say that you had a fight with your Lord?” He shook himself again. “Then I stand corrected.” Abbadon mad a deep “Humph” sound , and faced away from the man. “My faith and my life has been thrown away.” “Oh come on fella!” He slapped his back, and waved a mossy stone in front of his face. “This is truly going to help you.” Swatting the hand away, Abbadon grabbed the stone. “How is this going to help?” He flipped it around and around in his hand, starring at it. “It looks like any ordinary rock.” “Rock!” Drofgh snatched it out of his hand. “No! This stone is a key. A key that opens the tomb of Kalona.” “Kalona? This is of no possibility that he is entombed here. He was closed within a cave in the human realm, not this realm of myth.” “Humans?” Drofgh laughed. “Talk about mythological creatures.” “Right, but Kalona? Is he really here?” “Yes, yes, he most certainly is.” That was all Abbadon needed to convince him to go. In the way there Drofgh explained that a certain cherry blossom grew in Kalona’s resting place. This was a special plant that grew there because of the natural remains of A-ya. The cherry blossom that resided there, would somehow create some aurora that will confuse the pixies, and keep them from taking part his wings. Though it didn’t sound like it would work, it was the only thing he had. The cave that was their destination was so covered in moss and growth, that the opening was almost impossible to find. It wouldn’t have been found either, but Drofgh stumbled upon the very slight opening, and held the stone up to it. Within seconds the stone wrenched itself apart, uncovering a gaping hole in the base of a large rock. “This is it.” Drofgh clapped excitedly, and danced in half circles. “This is it!” Abbadon gave the man little thought before stepping inside the darkened cave. For its vastness, it was quite short, and he reached the end before he had started to look for Kalona. It was on the very back wall, the bright pink color standing out in the black. The cherry blossoms were beautiful, and even for an angel, that had lived his life in heaven, the sight was so terrific it stopped him from moving forwards. Once his feet started working again, he continued walking towards the glowing flowers. Putting one foot in front of the other, the only thing that mattered were the flowers. They looked so delicate, so pink. Yet they also had a sense of strength about them, for they were growing in absolute darkness. Abbadon was so mesmerized by the flowers that he almost fell into a statue that was bounded and embraced with the cherry blossom tree. Once Abbadon took a good look at the statue, he realized it wasn’t a statue at all. “Kalona.” Abbadon whispered. “Now, I’m like you.” He laughed at the irony of it. “Yes brother, I’ve fallen from Heaven as well. I’m not going to cause problems for the Cherokees though.” He shook his head. “We both have made disastrous mistakes.” He placed his hand on Kalona once more, then hurriedly picked a branch of the blossoms and ran out of the cave. The trip back was very silent, because Abbadon was too busy thinking about everything that had become of him, and the events that had led to Kalona’s demise. Only Drofgh’s loud, and obnoxious humming was the only other thing beside the sounds of nature. Looking back, he saw that his wings had so many feathers missing, and he knew he didn’t have much time left. Sighing he kicked a rock, sending it flying to the other side of the path. A loud squeal caused Abbadon to freeze and dart his eyes upwards. A shadow rested upon him, and swooped over the trees. Abbadon’s heart raced at light speed as the griffin squealed again over head. The griffin soared through the skies, and finally out of sight. The Griffin’s pale blue body slinked away over the treetops, along with its silver wing tips and cries. “What’s got you all messed up?” Drofgh laughed with a hissing fit. “Alsator…he rides upon us on a blue griffin.” Abbadon shook his head and sighed again. “I just though…I just thought that was who it was.” “Well you have thought wrong my friend.” Drofgh laughed again. “That is Keia. She lives here in the forest.” “Oh.” “Yep. She is real nice, maybe you’ll get to see her sometime?” Drofgh smiled his odd grin again. “I’m not sure.” He looked back. “If your plan doesn’t work, then I’ll be dead.” “You’re very negative Abbs.” Drofgh took the cherry blossoms from him, and ran them under his nose. “Plus, I know I’m very right.” “My name is Abbadon, not Abbs.” he shot him a look of annoyance. “Have you the proof that this will work?” “Nope, not at all.” “Then how do you know!?” “I don’t.” Drofgh gave the blossoms back, and skipped forwards on the path. “ We are almost there.” “Almost where Drofgh.” “Where we started of course!” He did a little jump, and a slight half spin in the air. “Where else, better than my house?” “Your house, right.” He rolled his eyes and stared at the sky once more. For once in his life, he was very afraid. A little part of him wanted to believe Drofgh, and did believe him. Yet another part of him knew that his demise was inevitable. That part took hold of him and gnawed at his nerves, and clouded his mind. Death. It was all he could think about, and all that consumed him. He laughed at the irony. Death did technically consume a being, right down to its whole. Once you are fully consumed in that darkness and soulless sea of nothingness that is death, you are simply no more. Yes, being consumed, that was his fate. Abbadon was too busy thinking about what was going to become of him. That he didn’t realize that they were back at the trees that clawed at the sky. Nor did he realize that Drofgh had already gone inside his cave like home. Only when the hairy man was standing in front of him, waving a bowl in front of his nose. A sweet, yet sharp earthy smell wafted from the bowl. With an enthusiastic nod from Drofgh, Abbadon took the bowl and slurped the strange pink pudding substance from the bowl. Drofgh stopped him before he drank it all, and ordered him to turn around. Abbadon did as he was told and turned around. “Bend down.” Abbadon obeyed and sat down on the ground as thee Grogoch poured and rubbed the goop on his wings. The touch was very rough, yet innocent, and he hummed as he worked to cover every feather. The skin felt heated as it was touched, and began to twitch the more the paste was worked in. The process was a little long, so Abbadon had a bit of time to lose himself in his thoughts. He thought of home, he thought of the forest, and the creatures within it. He even let his mind wander towards death, and what life could possibly be like in hell. “Could I really spend eternity in hell?” He said to himself. “No, if I’m going to be destroyed, it will be as if I don’t exist at all…no hell, no heaven. Nothing shall pass any judgment on my soul, for the judgment has already been made.” “Hey, I’m done?” Drofgh waved a hand in front of Abbadon’s blank face. “Oh, thanks.” He stood up and stretched his wings out around him, the aroma billowing out from his now unfurled wings. The top, where the feathers were velvety and soft, they were a soft, silky black. The tips, where the feathers where more rugged black, were many apart, since there were many missing. Then the body of the wings, were made up of dark, midnight black feathers. There weren’t multitudes of soft feathers like the top. Neither were they rugged and very few like the tips. Though it was noticeable that the tip layer was missing, and a few of the bottom layer was gone. The remaining feathers were beautiful however the number. They had a sparkle to them, that shined like cloud dust when the moon set upon them. “This paste will change your aurora, which in turn will confuse the pixies. It’s like you were to wear a jacket inside out.” Drofgh laughed. “Like what humans would do?” Abbadon questioned. He laughed again. “Bah! Humans! You’re too good Abbs!” doubled over laughing, he finally looked up, the sun making his eyes sparkle. “Well Abbs, let’s go find a few pixies and see if it works?” Abbadon just sighed and nodded. The pixies weren’t too far away, for he could hear their bubbly laughter from where he stood. The giggles sent shivers and goose flesh down his back. “Yeah, let’s go.” He let himself be led towards the laughter, it growing louder and louder. The louder it got, the worse case of gooseflesh he achieved. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, they reached them. The pixies were the size of sunflower, maybe 2” in technical terms. All of them were female, and had long purplish hair, and green skin. They were dressed in makeshift dresses made from leaves and flower petals. The sight of them caused Abbadon to shake with fear and anger. There, within sight were the small creatures that had caused the brutal destruction of his beautiful, and cherished wings. With each agonizing pull, he felt more hatred for these creatures. The giggling stopped as the duo approached the gravity defying beasts. The pixies starred at them with beady black crow eyes. The starring contest lasted all but maybe five seconds, before the leaf wearing inhabitants vanished into a cloud of sparkles. The sparkles then dissipated before Abbadon could even reach it. “So, did it work?” Drofgh whispered silently. Abbadon didn’t even get a chance to answer, before there was an intolerable pain in his back. No, the pain was not in his back, it was within his very soul. The now invisible pixies were upon him, ripping apart his wings, one by one, two by two, ten by ten. The pain was unbelievably unbearable, and nothing but sheer agony. He could feel his screams falling over the land, rising up into the desolate sky. He could feel his screams, he knew he was, but he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t even see anything. The only thing he saw was a blank blackness. The only thing he heard was the same blank silence. The only thing he could sense was he was being torn apart for in the inside out. He could feel it, reaching inside of his soul, and ripping it out. Not even caring to dislocate it before it was snuffed out and crushed beneath a large man’s boot. He could only sense the pixies on him, pulling his life away. The paste didn’t work, in fact, it had done the opposite. Drofgh had tricked him. Well, that he wasn’t sure, the Grogoch could have just been wrong. If the Grogoch was wrong, why wasn’t he helping him? Was he just sitting back enjoying the sight of the massacre? Did Drofgh not even see the pixies, so there for he couldn’t help if he tried? Abbadon tried to think of all this, but none would compute, neither did it matter. The pain was just too much, and when it finally unhealed, the hear it, the screech. The Griffin was here, and he knew, out of the blackness that Alsator was riding it. It wasn’t Keia, ever fiber of his body screamed that answer. Death. He had failed and his punishment would be carried out. He felt the hands, and he felt the rope, then he felt himself being lifted into the air. Death. The world spun, and he felt sick, soon he couldn’t even feel the pain. The only thing he could grasp on to was, nothing, emptiness. He knew where he was before he sensed it. Hell, when his senses arrived back to his conscious. Flames extended beyond all that could be viewed at once, and horrible screeching and screaming eroded in the air around them. They were devilish and haunting, screams that would stay in etched in his mind, if his life wasn’t about to be ended, of course. This is where Abbadon simply, gave up, and he let himself be led to wherever he was pushed or prodded to. Alsator’s hands shoved him onto a rock of bubbling and oozing lava. The screams were even louder in this wrenched alter. Right before he was shoved into the soul-eating fiery pit, he looked behind him once, and saw a man with large pointed teeth. Horns that doubled over and circled themselves, before pointing upwards, were sticking out of each side of his head. He held Abbadon with a stare that could stare down a mountain. He looked from the man to his wings. No, were his wings used to be, all that remained now were two very bloody stubs. He turned his head, and hung it below his solders. He didn’t need to be pushed, he willingly jumped into the soulless pit, leaving everything behind. The lava reached up and grabbed hold of him with its tight, squeezing grip. It grasped him in a grip that squeezed the air from his lungs. He gasped and tried to breathe, but nothing would stick within his lungs. Soon they were rendered useless, and he could feel his skin start to burn. Soon he could only feel the pain, and everything was black once more. This pain was somehow more peaceful than the dislocation of his wings, because after a while he could feel nothing. He was drifting in and out of that sea of blackness. Engulfing him, and making him sink further and further into oblivion. Until he couldn’t even feel, that he couldn’t feel. Death.