Scene 21: Azrael’s Reflections
Exterior, Forest Clearing – Night
The forest clearing is a somber place, filled with the remnants of a recent battle. Bodies of the fallen lie strewn across the ground, and the air is heavy with the scent of death. Azrael, the Angel of Death, stands in the center of the clearing, his dark wings folded behind him. His eyes, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, scan the scene before him.
Azrael (murmuring to himself, sorrowful tone):
Death is everywhere. The souls of the fallen cry out to me, waiting to be claimed. (sighs deeply) So much destruction, so much senseless loss. This war has brought nothing but pain and suffering.
He moves gracefully among the bodies, his touch gentle as he claims the souls, guiding them towards their final judgment. Each soul glows faintly as it leaves the body, floating upwards towards the heavens.
Azrael (continuing, reflective):
The last time I had to claim so many souls… it was during the Great Plague. An endless stream of souls, day after day, night after night. The work was relentless, and the cries of the dying haunted me for centuries.
He pauses over the body of a young soldier, his face peaceful in death. Azrael’s expression softens, a hint of compassion in his eyes.
Azrael (softly):
You fought bravely, young one. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. (sighs) But it is not for me to judge. That is for the Almighty alone.
Azrael continues his solemn task, his movements deliberate and respectful. He picks up another soul, watching it ascend with a mix of sadness and resignation.
Azrael (reflecting on the devastation):
The undead bring nothing but devastation. They are an abomination, disrupting the natural order of life and death. But it is not my place to intervene. My duty is to the souls of the departed, to ensure they find their way to their final rest.
He pauses, looking around at the desolate scene, his eyes filled with a deep weariness.
Azrael (whispering to himself):
Why must there be so much suffering? The balance of the world is fragile, and yet it is constantly tipped towards chaos and destruction.
Azrael moves to the body of an older woman, her face lined with age and wisdom. He gently touches her forehead, her soul rising peacefully.
Azrael (softly):
Rest now, your journey is over. (sighs) I have seen countless lives end, and each one leaves a mark upon my soul. The weight of this duty is heavy, but it is mine to bear.
He stands, looking up at the night sky, stars twinkling faintly above.
Azrael (contemplating the nature of his duty):
I am the harbinger of death, the guide of souls. My task is not to prevent death, but to bring peace to those who have passed. It is a role I have accepted, despite the endless sorrow it brings.
He moves to the body of a fallen child, his expression one of profound sadness.
Azrael (softly, to the child’s soul):
You were taken too soon, little one. May you find peace in the arms of the Creator.
As the child’s soul ascends, Azrael’s gaze follows it, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
Azrael (whispering):
Each soul I claim, each life that ends… it never gets easier. The pain of loss is a burden I carry, but I do it so that others may find solace in the afterlife.
He walks to the edge of the clearing, looking back at the scene of devastation.
Azrael (reflecting on his role):
The undead horde brings chaos, but my duty is clear. I must remain impartial, a silent witness to the end of life. My role is not to interfere, but to guide and protect the souls of the departed.
He spreads his dark wings, preparing to take flight.
Azrael (determined):
The living will fight their battles, and I will be there to claim the souls of the fallen. It is a cycle as old as time itself, a dance between life and death that will continue until the end of days.
He ascends into the sky, his form a dark silhouette against the moonlight.
Azrael (voice echoing in the night):
I am Azrael, the Angel of Death. My task is endless, my burden heavy. But I will continue, for it is my sacred duty to ensure that every soul finds its way home.
As he flies over the battlefield, his thoughts continue to churn.
Azrael (reflecting on the human condition):
Humans are resilient, yet so fragile. Their lives are brief, but filled with moments of great joy and profound sorrow. They fight, they love, they die. And in the end, they come to me, seeking peace and judgment.
He watches as more souls ascend, each one a testament to a life lived and lost.
Azrael (solemnly):
The undead disrupt this natural order, turning life into a grotesque parody of itself. They are a blight upon the world, but they are not mine to fight. My duty is to the souls, to guide them through the darkness into the light.
He lands in a new clearing, where more bodies await his touch. Among them, he notices the bodies of acolytes from the Holy Order, their robes stained with blood.
Azrael (softly, to himself):
Even the Holy Order has been overwhelmed. Their faith was strong, but even they could not withstand the onslaught.
He kneels beside the body of a young acolyte, his hand gentle as he claims the soul.
Azrael (whispering):
Rest now, faithful servant. Your duty is done.
As he moves among the fallen acolytes, he feels a deep sense of pity.
Azrael (reflective):
There was a time before the Holy Order, when God sent angels to aid humanity directly. We stood beside them, guiding and protecting them. But now…
He pauses, looking at the devastation around him.
Azrael (continuing):
Now, they must fight their own battles. We can only guide their souls to the afterlife. The world has changed, but my duty remains the same.
He stands, his wings unfurling behind him.
Azrael (determined):
I will continue to claim the souls, to ensure they find their way to judgment. It is not my place to interfere with the living, but to be their guide in death.
He spreads his wings and takes to the sky once more, his form a dark silhouette against the moonlight.
Azrael (voice echoing in the night):
I am Azrael, the Angel of Death. My task is endless, my burden heavy. But I will continue, for it is my sacred duty to ensure that every soul finds its way home.
As he flies over the battlefield, his thoughts continue to churn.
Azrael (reflecting on the human condition):
Humans are resilient, yet so fragile. Their lives are brief, but filled with moments of great joy and profound sorrow. They fight, they love, they die. And in the end, they come to me, seeking peace and judgment.
He watches as more souls ascend, each one a testament to a life lived and lost.
Azrael (solemnly):
The undead disrupt this natural order, turning life into a grotesque parody of itself. They are a blight upon the world, but they are not mine to fight. My duty is to the souls, to guide them through the darkness into the light.
He lands in a new clearing, where more bodies await his touch. Among them, he notices the bodies of acolytes from the Holy Order, their robes stained with blood.
Azrael (softly, to himself):
Even the Holy Order has been overwhelmed. Their faith was strong, but even they could not withstand the onslaught.
He kneels beside the body of a young acolyte, his hand gentle as he claims the soul.
Azrael (whispering):
Rest now, faithful servant. Your duty is done.
As he moves among the fallen acolytes, he feels a deep sense of pity.
Azrael (reflective):
There was a time before the Holy Order, when God sent angels to aid humanity directly. We stood beside them, guiding and protecting them. But now…
He pauses, looking at the devastation around him.
Azrael (continuing):
Now, they must fight their own battles. We can only guide their souls to the afterlife. The world has changed, but my duty remains the same.
He stands, his wings unfurling behind him.
Azrael (determined):
I will continue to claim the souls, to ensure they find their way to judgment. It is not my place to interfere with the living, but to be their guide in death.
He spreads his wings and takes to the sky once more, his form a dark silhouette against the moonlight.
Azrael (voice echoing in the night):
I am Azrael, the Angel of Death. My task is endless, my burden heavy. But I will continue, for it is my sacred duty to ensure that every soul finds its way home.
FADE OUT.
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