Iro'Eru
The sign of victory had been far too clear for anyone to ignore. Iro'Eru did not put much stock in omens, but the glaring brilliance above him was too much even for him. The comet had been predicted, and they knew it was coming, but when they saw it...
"It's a sign from Adonai. It has to be. Why else would it burn so bright?"
"It's a comet, En'Esh, they don't burn." Iro'Eru adjusted his wings. The desert sand kept getting between the delicate translucent layers, and it itched fiercely.
"Well, this one is," the younger Edija was firm in his belief. He was one of the true believers in the army, who considered the comet a sign from G-d. He believed it was a sure sign of victory, and the belief was too pervasive for Iro'Eru to ignore it.
"It just looks that way. Now shut up about the comet and get ready. It's almost time."
It was nearing midnight, but that was impossible to tell by the way the comets lit up the sky. They were like two green moons, slowly circling one another, and casting a sickly light down onto the desert. The Chiri wanted to harness the power of the comets to pierce the veil between worlds, and bring back one of the Sorcerers. Iro'Eru agreed that, whether it was an omen or not, the comets would certainly be useful for that. There had been no debate about who to bring through; they all knew that it must be the most terrifyingly fierce of the Sorcerers.
"Ready?" He flicked his wings again and shifted his grip on his spell-thrower. En'Esh gave a brief nod of his head and hunched down a bit further beneath the covering that the outcrop provided. Iro'Eru raised his spell-thrower and pulled the trigger, sending a ball of fire high into the sky.
Blasts of lightning and gouts of fire answered him, and the army descended on the unsuspecting city.
The Desert Rose they called the city, the petty humans who inhabited it. It lay on the fringes of the Empire's borders, and it could only be considered a bloom if one did not know the splendors of Yerushalayim's desert cities. Its gardens were a pale imitation of Yuurei open gardens that filled their cities with lush greenery. Their boulevards were narrow and lined only with desert shrubs, while the Yuurei streets were carpeted in grasses and lined with palms. The city's destruction would be no great loss.
Edija filled the sky, floating down toward the city on shimmering wings. What few sentries had been posted were slaughtered from afar with well placed shots from spell-throwers.
Iro'Eru joined his men in the air, leaping from the outcrop to glide down towadr the city. By the time he took flight, the sentries were dead and there was nothing for him to do but wait while he closed on the city.
His flight would have been relaxing if he were not about to enter combat, and when his first set of legs touched down on the sand he did not take time to rest. He moved through the street, followed by En'Esh and several other of his warrior brethren.
The first man they came to was drunk. He stumbled through the street toward them, not comprehending what he saw. His face was pale and fleshy, as all humans appeared to Iro'Eru, and he stank of piss and cheap wine. There was a dark stain spread across the front of his skirt, and En'Esh added a second stain on his chest when he drove his spear home.
The man looked down at the spear protruding from him, and grasped its shaft weakly. "Wha," was all he managed before collapsing and sliding off the leaf-shaped blade.
Iro'Eru felt the wave of victorious pheromones that En'Esh released, and considered chastising the young warrior. There was no point to it, he decided. The humans could not sense their communication, and En'Esh had aimed his blow well.
He heard a shout from another of the city's streets, and knew that his men had begun their work in earnest.
The sky above them shimmered green, and sparks flew now and then as the souls of the deceased attempted to flee the world. The Chiri were doing their job, and gathering the precious life energy, trapping it, for their use.
Iro'Eru moved through the streets again, past the dead man's body. Soon other humans poured into the streets, drawn by the shouts of their dying comrades. They died too, at the points of Edija spears, or from the blasts from spell-throwers.
A fire had caught somewhere, and it began to grow larger. Iro'Eru realized that it was no ordinary fire, and he paused to admire it. The flames were green, just like the burning comets, and they moved like a demon. An arm would lick out here, causing a house to burst into flame, and a finger there, setting alight some citizen of the city.
"It's beautiful," he murmured more to himself than anyone else.
"G-d's work is always beautiful," En'Esh answered. He had stopped beside Iro'Eru, as was proper given their ranks, and was gazing off at the living flames.
"I doubt the humans would agree with us on that." He snickered in the strange wheezing way that the Edija had, and released a burst of amused pheromones.
"The humans should not have built here. G-d has always condemned them, and yet they think they're safe at our borders?! They are good for nothing but serving the Empire. This city doesn't serve, so it deserves to die." En'Esh stank of anger, the anger of an idealistic youth, and Iro'Eru let him have his moment.
"Perhaps that is so," he began when the moment finished. "Let's move on." He didn't wait, and instead began down the street again.
***
The cemetery was surprisingly organized and well kept. The graves were dug in rows, and the monuments were kept clear of lichen. Iro'Eru was impressed; at least the humans had mastered this aspect of civilized life.
"Are we ready?" He stared past En'Esh at the Chiri who had come down into the city when the fighting had ended. They were short, barely reaching his waist, but they were renowned archers and spell-weavers.
"All is ready, Commander Iro'Eru'Ashta'Ne'Vyar." The Chiri insisted on speaking formally to the warriors, and Iro'Eru did not blame them. It was only proper for mortal races to show deference to the Angels.
"Then do it. Now." He was eager to be done with the burning city and to return to Yerushalayim itself.
"As you command." The Chiri nodded to her companions, and they raised their hands up. Iro'Eru didn't know why they did that, but he let them anyway. The sky shimmered from green to red, and back to green, while the Chiri chanted and waved their hands above their heads.
The pillars of green fire bent over the city, joining in an arch over the cemetery, before crashing down on it. They washed over Chiri and Edija harmlessly, but set several buildings ablaze, and even some of the stone monuments.
And as quickly as it began, it ended. The Chiri dropped their hands and the fires went out. Iro'Eru glanced around, but nothing else seemed to have happened. He turned in anger to the nearest Chiri and grabbed him with his lower arms. "What did you do? Where is Al Shaitan?!"
The Chiri shook his head, "He is coming, Commander. Please. I promise."
Iro'Eru shook his head and released the Chiri. "Worthless," he grumbled and turned away. He found himself face to face with a gash of light that tore through the air. He stumbled back and away from the deadly edges of the gate, and stared at it stupidly.
Al Shaitan, The Enemy, stepped through the gate in full battle regalia. His armour was black with lines of crimson in it, and he had a wooden blade held in both hands. Tattoos reached up from beneath his armour to cover his face in swirling patterns. His hair was as red as the lines in his armour, and the tattoos on his face.
"I greet you, Iro'Eru. That is a good name you have. Eru... He will be joining us soon enough," Iblis spoke slowly and with a smile spreading across his face.
