The fall came with a clap. A similar sound erupted during creation. Flames, choking smoke, screams and agony filled the air. Side by side there were hulking masses of burning feathers with balls of fire trapping unwilling occupants. There was no hope. Any struggle given was as meaningless as every former title of those burning.
Impacts of bodies created sonic booms throughout the Earth. Arms, legs, torsos and heads were mangled and twisted. The flesh of these entities attempted to combine to form their original shape as was the curse of immortality. Burning feathers fell from the skies. A smell of charred flesh and sulfur prevented those who had fallen from taking in any fresh air. Despite their immortal bodies, the discomfort of being denied air, burning endlessly, and the prevention of healing can appear eternal.
More fell. Every descent into the planet ended in a nuclear explosion of a landing. The fallen came in shapes that resembled a human to others who looked like beasts. They all met the same fate no matter the appearance. Their fate was torture, damnation, and subjugation for crimes against their own creator.
Piecing themselves back together was hard given the molten rock that was bonding to each body. If they only fell then none of them would have the appearance of undead angels with broken wings and fire for blood. Pain would be all they'd know for the rest of their immortal existence. Some moved like zombies. Others moved more naturally but had the splitting image of a zombie.
If the Earth had any perspective then the bombardment could have appeared endless. However, there were only 71 crashes in total. Volcanoes erupted across the planet upon the final body slamming into a mountain. Every one of them landed near a volcano as if it were designed that way. The creatures attempted to flee their impending fate of being turned to flesh jelly and mixed into volcanic heat. Some got far away from the frying to come. Others didn't.
Wings began to flap across the planet. Few could fly. Most couldn't. Many of the burning angels found one another. Shock and horrorified faces surveyed one another to see what each had become. The once beautiful angels of heaven were now the lava candied creatures that their leader rejected.
The damned attempted to find one another. Strength is numbers was what they used in heaven and so now they'd attempt to become a unit on Earth. Eyes, hair, teeth, limbs and feathers fell off of the creatures with each step, flap of a wing in flight or dragging crawl towards the sound of anything that sounded like a voice. So desperate were some that they'd try to fly with blood so hot that it let off fire upon falling. In heaven, their strength was togetherness. Here, to amass as a single unit, pain will be required.
A single angel with wings torn and waving in smoke like paper stood upon the highest peaked mountain that was still left standing. If it wasn't for him being an angel once he could have passed for particularly tall human. Outlines of his long, flowing hair matched some of the gray smoke. Unlike the others, there were no signs of damage to this lone entity. Instead of rotting and burning flesh, he stood unclothed with a red sheathed sword in his hand and blood pouring from his eyes.
The others were trying to reach him. He watched as the land burned. Then the damned angel's gaze was redirected towards the sky.
He drew his sword and raised the weapon in defiance of heaven's will.
With a booming voice fit for a dragon, he shouted, "I want a rematch!"
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