Part XIII: The Cradle of Despair
Chapter 4: Gabriel in The Garden
Timeline AO 304
I materialized amidst the desolation where The Garden of Eden once flourished, the Shard of Varysha that opened the portal to bring me here still pulsating ominously within my skeletal grasp.
A wave of disgust washed over me as I surveyed the scene I’d emerged in to. The air was thick with the stench of human presence—these descendants of Adam and Eve had dared to build their lives upon the sacred grounds of perhaps my greatest creation. Their crude dwellings dotted the horizon, smoke rising from their abodes like insults directed at the heavens.
Although they couldn’t see me, I observed the men around me – so ignorant they had no comprehension of the profound energies that lingered beneath their feet. Their oblivious existence was a mockery of the divine tapestry I had once woven here for, as yet, they’d not lived up to the expectations I had when I first created them.
Having served it’s purpose to get me here, I put the Shard back inside my robes, feeling its dark energies still coursing through my bones. Then I couldn’t help but scowled beneath my hooded robe, my mind churning with hatred and impatience. The Veil of Shrouded Splendor, my magic, still held Eden in a parallel dimension, hidden from the eyes of man. But these vermin, these humans, could still interfere with my work. Their very presence tainted the sacred ground I needed to access.
With a wave of my hand, l summoned a dark fog – a thick, swirling mist that crept across the landscape, wrapping itself around the human settlements. The fog was laced with a sleep spell so potent that even the most vigilant would succumb to its embrace. One by one, the fires in the distant houses flickered out as the humans fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
“At least some things are still easy.” I chuckled softly to myself; knowing this infestation of humans would not awaken until my task was complete, and by then, they would have forgotten this night entirely.
“But that’s not quite enough.” I cautioned myself, for I knew that within Eden Time flowed differently; minutes could become hours, hours, days. I needed absolute assurance that no curious soul would disturb my work and I couldn’t afford any interruptions from curious wanderers.
I paused for a bit to think about how best to handle this situation, then, bending low to the ground, I touched the earth with my bony fingers, and muttered an incantation in the ancient tongue of The Fallen. The soil beneath me quivered and then hardened, forming an impenetrable barrier around the area—a wall of invisible stone and earth that no mortal could penetrate, wouldn’t even know was there, and if they somehow approached would be ‘misdirected’ away from the area.
“That’ll do. That’ll do.” I nodded.
Satisfied, I turned my attention inward, focusing on the delicate threads of magic that concealed Eden from this realm. The Veil of Shrouded Splendor had been my masterpiece, a complex weave of enchantments that kept the Garden hidden from mortal and immortal eyes alike. Yet now, it resisted my command, the magic having taken on a life of its own over the millennia.
I closed my eyes, channeling my essence into the Veil, seeking out its weaknesses. The resistance was formidable, each layer of magic entwined with the lifeforce of Gaia herself. With a surge of will, I began to unravel the intricate patterns, threads of light and shadow peeling away to reveal a shimmering rift before me.
As the last of the Veil dissipated, Eden emerged from the ether, unfolding like a celestial blossom. Then it was that my nonexistent breath caught in my throat as I beheld the Garden’s renewed splendor – for I was amazed at what I beheld.
Eden, legendary when I had created it, had somehow become an ever greater masterpiece!
Lush greenery stretched as far as the eye could see, each leaf and blade of grass exuding a vitality that seemed to sing with the very heartbeat of Terra. Flowers of every conceivable color and some beyond mortal perception dotted the landscape, their petals glistening with dew that shimmered like liquid gemstones. Rivers wove through the terrain like silver ribbons, their waters so clear that the riverbeds sparkled under the filtered light of a sun that seemed more radiant within these bounds.
Above it all towered the Tree of of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, its silica makeup having now grown to an unimaginable scale – reaching nigh unto The Firmament itself!
“How is this possible?” I gasped, the mandible of my skeletal jaw hanging open in wonder.
The great tree’s colossal trunk was composed of intertwining branches and roots of silica, forming intricate patterns that seemed to tell stories of creation and existence. The bark glowed softly with a golden hue, pulsating gently as if alive with its own consciousness. Its great canopy stretched upwards, its leaves touching nigh unto the very edges of the Great Dome, perhaps whispering secrets to the stars.
I stood transfixed. What had happened here was beyond anything I had ever conceived. The Garden had evolved, transcending its original design into something profoundly majestic. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself the vanity of believing this grandeur was the fruit of my own genius. Yet, a subtle hum beneath the surface reminded me of the unmistakable touch of the Great Creator A’H, whose power and wisdom I knew still permeated every atom of this paradise.
Pushing aside these unsettling thoughts, I advanced toward the base of the Tree. “I don’t have time for wonder. Let me be about my business.”
The vision granted to me in Atlantis had been clear—the object I sought lay entwined with the roots of this arboreal titan.
Yet the roots sprawled across the ground like serpents in all directions, some as thick as ancient oaks, others slender and delicate. They burrowed deep into the earth, drawing sustenance from the core of Terra itself. I knelt beside the largest of these roots, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into its surface, searching for any sign of the mysterious stone.
Minutes turned into hours as I scoured every inch around the Tree, frustration mounting with each fruitless endeavor. The serenity of Eden began to mock me, its tranquil beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within. Had my vision been a deception? Was this another elaborate trap set by the cursed Illuminati to ensnare me once more?
A sudden rustle disrupted the stillness. I whirled around, dark energies crackling at my fingertips and there, bathed in the ethereal glow of the Garden, stood Gabriel – one of the Great Four.
His presence was both startling and infuriating. Clad in flowing robes that seemed woven from light itself, his wings stretched gracefully behind him, feathers shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. His face bore the serene, unreadable expression that had always irked me, eyes gleaming with a depth that held galaxies within.
“Gabriel,” I hissed, my voice echoing with a timbre that caused nearby leaves to tremble. “Have you come to gloat? To watch me scramble in vain like some pathetic creature?”
The arch angel regarded me with a calm smile, tilting his head slightly as if considering my words carefully. When he spoke his voice resonated as if it held the musical wisdom A’H for it carried the weight of divine decree and the promise of eternal truth. “Always so defensive, Azazel. Must every encounter between us be shrouded in hostility?”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion clawing at my thoughts. “Spare me your platitudes. I know why you’re here. You’ve led me into a trap, haven’t you? I assume Michael and his legion wait in the shadows, ready to drag me back in chains, is that it?”
Gabriel chuckled softly, the sound resonating like a gentle melody through the Garden. “You give me too much credit and my brothers too little subtlety. If this were a trap, do you not think they would have sprung it by now?”
His words did little to assuage my doubts. The archangels were not known for their patience, but Gabriel had always been different—his methods inscrutable, his motives veiled.
“Then why are you here?” I demanded, my patience wearing thin. “To revel in my failures?”
The great angel sighed, his gaze drifting upward to the towering branches of the Tree. “Must everything be about you, old friend? Perhaps I simply wished to bask in the beauty of Eden once more.”
I scoffed, though a sliver of uncertainty pierced my bravado. “Do not call me friend. We ceased to be allies eons ago.”
Gabriel’s eyes returned to mine, and for a moment, I glimpsed a profound sadness within their depths. “Perhaps. But time has a way of blurring the lines between allies and adversaries.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between us, the ambient sounds of Eden filling the void. I could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing, probing, yet offering no clear intent.
“If you have no purpose here, then begone,” I finally spat, turning my back to him and resuming my search. “I have no time for your riddles.”
I sensed rather than saw him approach, his presence a gentle warmth against the backdrop of my own cold fury. He stopped a few paces behind me, his voice soft yet carrying undeniable authority.
“You seek something precious, something hidden,” he mused. “Yet sometimes, what we desire most lies right beneath our feet.”
I glanced down reflexively, my gaze sweeping over the entwined roots and verdant grass. Nothing stood out, no sign of the elusive stone.
“You speak in circles, as always,” I retorted, refusing to indulge his cryptic tendencies.
Gabriel chuckled again, the sound imbued with genuine amusement. “And you, ever blind to what is plainly in sight.”
Before I could formulate a scathing reply, he moved gracefully to one of the grandest roots, his bare feet lightly brushing its surface. The root responded to his touch, emitting a soft, golden glow that spread outward like ripples in a pond.
“I believe this is what you seek,” he said, stepping aside to reveal a small depression where his right foot had rested.
Cautiously, I approached, skepticism warring with anticipation, yet nestled within the hollow was a stone unlike any I had ever seen—a perfectly smooth orb that seemed to contain the cosmos itself, stars and nebulae swirling within its depths.
I reached out, fingers trembling slightly as I lifted the stone from its resting place. The moment it left the root, the surface dissolved, melting away like mist to reveal a key.
But not just any key.
It was forged from pure gold, yet the metal was not the ordinary kind of Terra – instead it was the very <form> of the purity of <GOLD> as if it was what A’H Itself had imagined when It first conceived of it.
The key glowed with a light that surpassed any earthly luster. The shaft was slender and elegant, engraved with intricate patterns that shifted and danced before my eyes, telling tales of creation and destruction in a language beyond mortal comprehension. The bow of the key was shaped like an eye, a flawless sapphire set at its center, swirling with clouds of silver and hints of lightning. The wards were complex, intertwining in a maze of angles and curves that defied logic, suggesting that it could unlock more than mere physical barriers.
I stared in awe, the sheer craftsmanship and power emanating from the key leaving me momentarily speechless. This was it—the Key to the Cradle of Despair. The culmination of my arduous quest rested within my grasp, pulsing with untapped potential.
A sudden movement drew my attention back to Gabriel, who observed me with a knowing smile.
“Why?” I demanded, confusion and suspicion lacing my words. “Why help me? What game are you playing, messenger?”
He shrugged lightly, eyes twinkling with that infuriatingly serene wisdom. “Not every act is part of a game, Azazel. Sometimes, paths must be walked, doors must be opened, for the tapestry to unfold as it should.”
“Spare me your cryptic nonsense,” I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual venom. “What do you gain from this? What does your Master seek?”
Gabriel’s smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression I couldn’t quite decipher—was it pity? Understanding? Resignation?
“Perhaps it’s not about gain or loss,” he replied softly. “Perhaps it’s about choice. Yours and others’.”
Before I could press further, his form began to shimmer, edges blurring as light enveloped him.
“Wait!” I called out, a mix of desperation and frustration surging within me. “This isn’t over. You can’t just—”
But he was already gone, his presence dissipating like morning mist, traveling back beyond The Firmament to Illyria, leaving me alone beneath the towering majesty of the Tree.
I stood there, clutching the golden key, mind swirling with a tempest of emotions—triumph at having found what I sought, confusion over Gabriel’s motives, and an unsettling dread of what lay ahead.
As if responding to my turmoil, the bark of the Tree directly before me began to shift and contort. Lines etched themselves into the surface, intertwining and expanding until a keyhole materialized, perfectly matching the complex wards of the key in my hand.
The keyhole was a marvel unto itself, outlined with threads of silver and gold that pulsed in harmony with the key’s glow. Around it, the bark was adorned with ancient runes that glimmered softly, each symbol representing a facet of existence—life and death, chaos and order, beginnings and endings. The keyhole seemed to exude a gravitational pull, drawing me closer, whispering promises of untold power and knowledge.
Yet, as I stood on the precipice of unlocking this profound mystery, doubt gnawed at my core. What awaited beyond this door? Salvation? Damnation? Was this truly the path to fulfilling my grand designs, or merely another trap laid by forces beyond my understanding?
The Garden around me seemed to hold its breath, the usual symphony of life subdued as if anticipating the consequences of my next move. The weight of millennia pressed down upon me, the culmination of countless schemes and struggles distilled into this singular moment.
My hand hovered before the keyhole, fingers trembling—not from fear, of course, but from the enormity of the decision before me. For the first time in ages, uncertainty clouded my purpose. Gabriel’s parting words echoed in my mind, stirring shadows of hesitation.
Choice.
Was this truly mine to make? Or had every step been guided, manipulated by unseen hands toward a predetermined end? The notion was infuriating, yet the question remained, festering like a wound.
I drew back slightly, conflicted emotions warring within. Pride urged me forward, to seize what was rightfully mine, to defy any who would seek to control my fate. Yet caution whispered restraint, warning of unseen perils and consequences that could ripple through creation itself.
The key in my hand pulsed steadily, its light casting dancing shadows across my form. The path lay before me, clear yet fraught with uncertainty.
And so, I hesitated, standing alone beneath the eternal canopy of the Tree of of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, suspended between ambition and doubt, power and consequence. Tempted beyond the limits of my power.
“Is this what Eve felt?” I wondered.
My decision hung heavy in the air, the moment stretching into eternity as the fate of worlds balanced upon my next act…
The Apocrypha of Azazel 