Michael: Last Angel of Earth
The Quest Begins

Outside the church, Barjon dug a hole in the local cemetery. After searching for about an hour, he got out of the hole and swiped the dirt off him. As for Margret and the others, they were preparing Ambrose’s last rites. Fiona cleaned him up as best as possible, and Colum covered his best friend in a new set of clothes. Margret went to the church’s former garden and plucked some spring flowers that had survived the flames. The survivors carried Ambrose’s body to the grave with everything in place. Wrapping him in a white cloth, Fiona prayed before they buried him. She recited a prayer her mother taught her when she was a young lass at a funeral for a loved one.

“Molaimid thú, a chara Ambross, do Dhia uilechumhachtach agus tú a chur ar iontaoibh do Chruthaitheora. Go bhfanfaidh tú in airm an Tiarna a chruthaigh thú ó dheannach na talún. Go gcuirfidh Muire naofa, na haingil, agus na naoimh uile fáilte romhat anois go bhfuil tú imithe ón saol seo.” (We commend you, our dear Ambrose, to almighty God and entrust you to your Creator. May you rest in the arms of the Lord who formed you from the dust of the earth. May holy Mary, the angels and all the saints welcome you now that you have returned from this life.) Fiona tried to hold back the tears as she finished the prayer. Making the cross sign, she asked everyone to say words about their beloved Abbot. Colum went first.

“Mate, it’s been a hell of a ride,” sniffled Colum. “You always saw the light at the end of the tunnel, even if that tunnel was a cave. You offered your heart to others and showed people the best of themselves. They say we Irish are lucky because we have the four-leaf clover. I think we were lucky because we had you, a good friend. Like a clover, you are hard to find and lucky to have. I pray that you are lucky guides through these times. Farewell, Ambrose.” Next was Margret.

“You always had a smile on your face. And your laughter always made things less terrible. I think I am going to miss that the most about you. But I know you will be watching us, making the heavens laugh. Thank you for giving me a home and a real family.”

Last but not least was Barjon. As Barjon began to speak, he felt tightness in his throat, and his heart beat faster. His breathing had quickened, and his hands trembled. Taking a few deep breaths, the former angel gathered his thoughts before speaking.

“They say us angels are meant to wrap those in love, heal, protect, and guide from above high, and for a long time, I had forgotten what that meant. But you, Ambrose, you were my guardian angel. Ironic. You offer advice about life to a former angel, especially the least deserving of it. Yet, that never stopped you, and I admire that. I hope that I can be brave and selfless as you were.” Barjon blew his nose before finishing.

“Lumen ad pacem dirigat temporibus. Requiesce in pace.” (May the light guide you to peace in these times. Rest in peace.) With that, Colum and Barjon gently lifted Ambross’s limp body and laid down on the earth. Taking a fist full of dirt, the survivors threw them onto the body before fully burying the body underneath the ground. The survivors placed the makeshift cross over the burial and contemplated their next move back into the church. Barjon already began packing.

“What are you doing?” asked Fiona. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Going to Europe,” stated Barjon.

“Why?” exclaimed Colum.

“One of Ambross’s contacts is in Spain. We find a boat. We can be there at most in a day if we don’t run into trouble along the way.”

“But Michael, we don’t even-”

“Barjon.”

“What?” questioned Fiona.

“My name is Barjon,” he stated

“But your name is-”

“I know what my name is! But ... that was a former life, back when it stood for something,” he replied.

“OK, Barjon, we don’t even know if these contacts are still around or even reputable,” said Colum.

“Ambrose trust them; that’s good enough for me,” replied Barjon. This time, Margret intervened.

“Barjon, please listen to us-” Barjon slammed his fists on the altar.

“No, you all listen!” he shouted at them. The thunder in voice rattled the stone walls of the church. He paused for a moment before continuing. “I have lived with this guilt for four years. Every day, I am reminded of what my actions have done, the lives taken, the lost friends, and more. Perhaps I am selfish, and maybe I am, but if there is a chance I can rectify the damage I have done to this world, I will gladly take it. And maybe ... maybe find some measure of peace. After all, I made a promise.”

“So you are going to Europe, find three unknown people, and convince them to join you on this quest. Find some legendary sword and armor, if it still exists, and save the free world from the hand of darkness whose grasp covers nearly all the corners of the world. All for a promise?” questioned Fiona.

“Yeah, you guys in?” asked Barjon.

“Screw it, I’m in,” said Colum.

“Me too,” said Margret.

“St. Patrick, watch over us ... I’m in, too,” said Fiona. With everyone in agreement, the survivors gathered any supplies that were still available. What was left of the church and the village was: several boxes of ammo, three assault rifles, one sniper rifle, body armor, rations, one case of water, a compass, a complete map of Europe, sleeping bags, medicine from the Selkies, snares, survival equipment, etc. After gathering all the necessary materials, Barjon and the others met at the south entrance of the village, facing the coast. Before they left, Barjon took one last glance at the church. There was nothing more than a broken pile of rubble, the once beacon of hope for the people. For a long time, this was his home, and he felt the same pain he experienced when he left the watchers outpost. Aligning his sword over his shoulder, he and the others made the long journey to the coast, where they would find a boat and begin their long and dangerous quest. As the company left their home, a figure entered the smoldering village once they had left. It was Javrumas the Maneater. He had secretly watched and listened to everything that had transpired in the village while in the forest. Intrigued by the new information, he entered the church and placed the same stone on the altar. Speaking the magic again, he summoned his master.

“Report Maneater,” said Xathaniel.

“My Lord, I have uncovered rather interesting news. News that greatly changes our situation,” replied Javrumas.

“Impress me.”

“It seems the human, once known as Ambrose, found the location of the tomb of Azrael. It’s in the Vatican city, under our very noses. The former angel has gathered two survivors and the girl to accompany him on this quest. And to make matters interesting, the human Ambrose has been in contact with three unknowns in Europe. They may be surviving angels or others.” Nathaniel was surprised by this new information. He had been rather curious about the lost tomb of Azrael. If it is somewhere in the Vatican city, they must find it and destroy it. But first, they must deal with the matters at hand.

“You did well in telling me this news, Javrumas. Your mission remains the same,” stated Xathaniel.

“My Lord, my blood is boiling. I hunger for blood,” exclaimed Javrumas. The smoke being raised at hand at him.

“Patience, you will have your kill. For now, observe and follow.” Javrumas bowed, and the smoke dissipated throughout the church.

In Hell, Xathaniel sent a cryptic message to Zarakoth on the British Isles. The Dragon king answered the call.

“My lord Xathaniel, what is it?”

“Zarakoth, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Such as?”

“That angel you told me about? He is starting to become an issue. I was hoping you could send your best hunter, killers, and mercenaries to stop them. I will send you their points of interest.” Zarakoth was intrigued but curious.

“Tell me, lord Xathinel, does Lucifer know of this angel?”

“I have instructed my lord on this matter, yes.”

“But he has no idea about this, does he? This is an unsanctioned assignment?” Xathaniel began to glare at the Dragon King, to which Zarakoth chuckled.

“It makes no difference to me. I could care less about what Brightstar says. You make sure to keep his spies away from my men. Because if I go down, then you go down with me. Do we have an agreement?” Nathaniel smiled evilly.

“Yes, lord Zarakoth, we have an agreement.”

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