AZRAEL (series of drabbles - #9)
The night came that the Son was born on earth. A host of angels filled the sky, led by Gabriel, singing praises.
So - what does this mean? Azrael asked afterward. I never actually understood what a Messiah is.
“He is going to save the humans,” said Raphael. He darted a glance at the other archangels. “That’s what a Messiah is: a savior.”
But from what? Azrael pressed.
“Azrael …” said Michael, and his face was grave. “You must understand. It isn’t your fault.”
What?
“Jesus … Jesus has been born to destroy death.”
What?! But I - I have - I have done nothing wrong! His stomach twisted into sickening knots. You mean to tell me that after, after having obeyed every one of Father’s orders, after doing my duty, never failing Him, never disappointing, I am - I am to - that’s impossible! How can I die? I am death!
Gabriel moved forward, to embrace him, but Azrael backed away, his eyes sparkling with tears. No. I have done too much to be repaid like this.
You know better than anyone else what awaits you. Why should you be afraid? Uriel asked softly.
I am not afraid, Azrael cried. Of course I know what is coming. I know when it comes to you - he pointed - and you - another - and you.
The indicated angels paled.
You see? You never thought death - I - would come to you, did you? I don’t usually come for our kind.
He bowed his head suddenly, and the quiet that descended was worse than that of any tomb.
Well, I didn’t think I would have to come for me, he whispered.