No one can outrun fate, no mortal or Mage. Not the gods who oversee this world—not even me, the Archangel of Death.

Her soul called me here, to a lake surrounded by old trees and long wildflowers. A beautiful trap meant to draw the innocent to a gruesome death. Old spirits haunted this place, and not even the bravest made it out of here alive. 

I watched her toss aside a wide-brimmed hat that had covered her hair and face, revealing white hair the color of starlight, braided down her back. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, not only because of its beauty, but because of what it meant.

This woman looked to be in her twenties, but her soul was much older. A hundred years, to be exact. Human but blessed—or cursed—by the gods to not age. 

She was Protected, her life guarded by Angels. I had never seen her before, had just heard about her from rumors in the wind, of the sorceress gifted enough to bend the fire of hell.

I tilted my head forward, trying to catch a better look at her. She muttered undecipherable things before lifting her lavender dress so she could step into the water. Her feet sank into the pale sand, and she stood still, staring at the peaceful surroundings.

My body craved to get her soul, finally mine after so long, but a voice in the back of my head told me something was wrong. I shouldn’t want that. Maybe it was because even though death was my task, I was also an Angel and served the gods…to an extent.

I clenched my jaw and hoped she turned to leave, but that dashed away when she took a step towards the lake.

“One dip, and then I will return—no one will be the wiser,” she said.

So she had escaped her guardian, Muriel? Impossible. No mage should be able to fool an Angel. I shook my head at the notion and willed her to not go in the water. There was no returning then, and Muriel would endure the gods’ ire if he lost their pet.

I shouldn’t be worried. I’ve been craving her soul ever since I learned she was forbidden. Why was I sweating then? My stomach tightened in anticipation as dread built inside me. I’ve been called to this place to rip her soul from her body. 

I tapped my fingers on the tree I stood on, my wings twitching the moment her feet entered the turquoise water. Her rosy cheeks stood out from the icy wind, and she shrieked from the cold, followed by a rolling laughter. The sound pulled at something in my chest, a muscle long forgotten that shouldn’t be beating like it was.

The Protected lifted her hands from the water and inspected her fingers, sparks of magic raised from her skin. She wiggled her fingers, playing with her power, and the aura that billowed around her was green. The color of death—my color. 

I believed in fate. I thought I was called here to claim her soul for the underworld, but maybe I was here for something else. I held my breath as she stepped in deeper until the water hit her hips.

“I’m free,” she said, and my heart clenched. Free? From Muriel, or from a life of constant guarding? She covered her face with shaky hands and whimpered, completely unaware of her surroundings.

Why had the Angel guarding her kept her so close to this cursed lake? I guessed it was to lessen unwanted company, including myself. Smart, except they hadn’t explained to her the dangers beneath the surface.

Ghostly white hands, mottled with purple, lifted from the water, breaking the calm exterior. Jagged nails grew pointy by cursed magic. Silence became absolute, and I counted ten pairs of arms surrounding her, blotchy skin blending in against her dress.

A lump lodged in my throat and I glanced around me in search of Muriel before all hell broke loose. Where was that idiot now?

Soon it was not only arms, but torsos, bloated skin, heads with hanging fat and hollowed eyes. The cursed souls had come to claim another. They made the death rattle noise that scared the living, and the Protected dropped her hands from her face and shrank away from the spirits that pursued her.

Her magic exploded around her, emerald-green and powerful. She blasted three cursed out of the water, but more emerged where those left, grabbing at her dress, ripping through her skin. The sound of her cries pulled at me as she tried to keep afloat. 

It didn’t take long for them to bring her under, and it was my turn to take what I’d come here for. I landed on the beach at a fast speed. The scent of rotten flesh hit me like a wall before I broke the surface in pursuit of her soul.

The water was clear, the white sand doing nothing to hide the corpses that brought down the woman the gods wanted alive. I tucked my wings tight against my body and swam towards her. Her black eyes met mine from across a decayed shoulder and widened.

Fear…of me? Not of the cursed that pulled her under. The spirits didn’t attack; they made way for me to reach her, and when I gripped her arms, she recoiled away, letting the last of her oxygen leave her lips. It was time. I tightened my fingers on her skin, digging to grab at her soul, but the heaviness in my chest grew wider, suffocating me.

No. This was wrong.

The woman who dissipated hell’s fire was not meant to die today. She had to be my fate, my destiny to protect. Muriel had done a shit job at it. Deciding, I pulled her out of the water, and she gasped for air when we broke free. Even though her dress was heavy with water, she felt light in my arms. 

Her wide eyes stared at me with horror. “You came to take me.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe they were right.”

“About what?” I asked, intrigued by the strange statement.

“That Death wants my soul, even though the gods demand I live.”

“It’s Azrael.”

“What?”

“My name is Azrael,” I said, and she blinked quickly, taking in my words. “What is yours?”

“Why are you asking?” She asked, and I shrugged but maintained my eyes fixed on hers. “You hunt people for years and don’t even know their names?”

“I know you more intimately. I know the imprint of your soul.” 

A blush darkened her already flushed skin. “That’s a weird comment. Don’t you know how to talk to people?”

“I don’t talk when I take souls away, darling.” 

She scowled at me. “If I tell you my name, would you not take my soul?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s Cera.” She sniffled, and I focused on her small nose and wide cheeks. Her lips had turned purple from the cold, and the sound of her shattering teeth urged me to leave the waters and head towards the forest beyond.

I needed to get her away from these cursed waters, just in case the spirits left their resting place. “It’s true that I’ve been searching for you for the last few decades—a mortal soul is not meant to live this long.”

She winced and tried to escape out of my arms, pushing against my chest with impressive force. Her fingertips sparkled green, and the zap of power tickled my skin. “Let go of me at once.”

“Or what?” I smirked.

“I will cut you down.” She seethed with a narrowing gaze. This woman had no patience for me, and I liked that. Her magic grew heavier, stinging more and intriguing me further.

“It’s not your time yet, darling. Calm down,” I told her to appease her attempts to hurt me, and she settled somewhat.

“I can walk on my own. I have been doing it for the last century.” She shoved me again, and I slowed my steps to a halt.

“Muriel shouldn’t have let you out of his sight.” Her cheeks turned bright red at my words, and she deviated her eyes from me. “What did you do to him?”

“I might have given him a sleep brew.”

I put her down at once. “Sleep potions don’t affect Angels.”

She shrugged and bent down to dry the skirt of her dress with a spell. The water that clung to its fibers evaporated in a billowing mist. “It took me thirty years to perfect it. I wish I could say I was sorry.”

My mouth dropped open at her admission, and she lifted her unapologetic eyes to me. “It almost cost you your life.”

“But what is life if I experience nothing?” Cera said, and the floppy hat she had discarded before landed on her now-messy, wet hair. “Now if you excuse me, Azrael, I have to go back to my prison.”

I’d almost taken this soul away, but maybe from the very beginning I’d known she wasn’t ready. She was still too alive, willing to fight death—literally. “Prison? It will alarm the gods that their pet is upset with her living arrangements.”

“What did you just call me?” She lifted her hand towards me so fast I barely registered it, and a wave of green magic hit me with a force that had me staggering back. The scent of singed feathers hung around me, and I put the fire out with an urgency I hadn’t felt in a long time. I lifted my surprised gaze to the woman who dared to cast a spell at the Angel of Death. “I’m no one's pet.”

A smile turned both my cheeks up, warming my chest. I felt something. Not boredom from my immortality. Not the tedious need to continue my dreaded task. 

I felt alive. 

BOO!

I wanted to share an illustration of the spirits/zombies in the Lake.

Let me know what you think of the story!