After Azraela's Bloodline Activation within the ancient alter at the Catacombs, Mirna quietly guided her away to a secluded corner. The atmosphere was thick with energy, heavy with the weight of newly awakened truths. Mirna's eyes were sharp with purpose. She knew all too well that Azraela's mind was now a battleground of questions. She could feel the barrage of them pumping like heartbeats through the air, each one urgent, each one demanding an answer.
Mirna settled gracefully into a chair across from Azraela, who was still trembling from the ceremony's aftershocks. To the world she was Azraela, but to Mirna and the past that refused to stay buried, she was Sera.
"You do realize you have shattered some of my belief bubbles in just the few moments we have spoken," Azraela said, her voice still laced with disbelief.
"I know," Mirna replied knowingly. Her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness behind it, the kind that suggested a tidal wave yet to come. "But unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, there are still many more bubbles to burst. I will try not to overwhelm you beyond your capacity. Every shock I deliver will come in time."
There was a softness to Mirna's words, almost like a mother calming a child who had just discovered that monsters under the bed were all too real.
"Speaking of shocks," Azraela said, leaning forward, her violet eyes burning with curiosity, "how did you know my real name?"
Mirna smiled faintly, and for a brief second, sadness brushed her strong features. "Because your blood sings louder than any name you could ever hide behind," she said, her voice carrying an ancient sadness.
Azraela stiffened. "What the hell does that mean?" she demanded.
Mirna's gaze deepened, her voice taking on a weight that seemed to stretch back through centuries. "It means," she said carefully, "that the wiping of your family was not simply the result of political maneuvering or power games. It was something far deeper, something far more dangerous."
Azraela's body tensed at the mention of her father. Her heart raced, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Brace yourself, young warlord," Mirna continued, her voice low. "The story is about to plunge even deeper. Your father's bloodline traces back to none other than Archangel Michael himself. Michael the Magnificent. God's Hammer." She paused, letting the words hang in the charged air. "This is why they feared you. Why they still fear you."
The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. It was as if the very air around them was holding its breath.
Azraela leaned back slowly, crossing her arms, struggling to process what she had just heard. "You are telling me I am some kind of angel?"
"Not exactly an angel," Mirna corrected gently. "A half-angel. A nephilim, to be precise. But not the towering kind written about in forgotten scriptures. Your heritage is far more complex than the myths ever described. Your ancestor, Michael, was not just God's chief enforcer. He also faced," Mirna paused, carefully weighing her next words, "challenges during his time walking the Earth, trying to mend what he saw as God's mistakes."
"God's mistake?" Azraela repeated, her mind reeling. How could perfection ever err?
Mirna chuckled softly, a sound both sad and amused. "Hello? Is somebody home?" she teased lightly, tapping the side of her temple. "Even God makes mistakes, dear one. Or have you forgotten? He regretted creating humanity once. That regret led to the Great Flood."
Azraela considered that, the pieces starting to fit into a new and unsettling picture. She nodded slowly.
"In this particular case," Mirna went on, "God's mistake was that he loved Lucifer too much. He loved him even to a fault. When Michael warned him that Lucifer was stirring rebellion among the Celestial Spheres, God could not bring Himself to act swiftly. His heartbreak clouded His judgment."
Azraela leaned forward, her curiosity intensifying. "And what was Lucifer's rebellion really about?"
Mirna's eyes darkened, her voice softening with gravity. "Lucifer was jealous. God's favor had shifted towards a new creation: humans. Instead of angels receiving the highest place of love and reverence, humans had stolen the spotlight. Lucifer saw it as betrayal. When he complained, instead of punishing him, God assigned him a task: to help humans evolve their consciousness, to raise them from mortal to immortal, from dust to divine. Lucifer saw it as humiliation."
Mirna's voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. "Imagine being the brightest of the celestial sons, second only to God Himself, and then being asked to serve mere mortals."
"Lucifer could not bear it," Mirna continued. "He failed the test of humility. His pride turned poisonous. His rebellion was inevitable. And as you know, it led to his fall."
Azraela frowned. "That is not exactly how the Bible tells it."
Mirna smirked, folding her hands in her lap. "Please. Do not get me started on the twisted fairy tales written in your so-called Holy Book. If you knew half the truth, you would question everything you have ever been taught."
A shadow flickered across her face as she continued. "In time, even Michael himself was not immune to earthly distractions. There was a woman. A powerful one. We still do not know her true identity, even among our highest circles. But from that union, your bloodline was born, carried through your father's side."
Azraela's eyes widened. "A woman powerful enough to ensnare the Chief Enforcer of Heaven? That must have been one remarkable woman."
Mirna simply nodded. "Even we in the Ancient Order of The Watchers do not know her name."
Azraela gasped audibly. The Watchers. She had heard the myths. The mysterious beings who once walked beside humanity, guiding without interfering, guarding without revealing themselves. Their power was said to be enough to destroy entire worlds if they chose to.
"You," Azraela whispered, awe creeping into her voice, "you are a Watcher?"
Mirna only smiled mischievously. "For your ears only," she said, her tone both playful and solemn.
Azraela sat in stunned silence, trying to absorb the enormity of what she was hearing.
"You are the last living carrier of a sleeping legacy," Mirna said. "A bloodline inheritance, locked inside you. Until now."
Azraela narrowed her eyes. Her voice sharpened. "What did you do to me?"
Mirna's smile was cryptic, holding secrets wrapped in riddles.
"I injected you with a Sigil," she said softly. "The Sigil of Michael. It was a Bloodline Activator."
Azraela's heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver racing down her spine.
"Now," Mirna said, "you are no longer just a descendant. You are worthy."
"Worthy of what?" Azraela asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
Mirna's eyes glittered with a fire that seemed to burn from within her very soul.
"Worthy to wield the Flaming Sword of Michael."
The air thickened, the walls of the Catacombs seeming to close in tighter around them.
Azraela felt the chill of destiny brush against her skin.
"Others have tried to claim it," Mirna continued, her voice growing heavy with unspoken memories. "Many warriors across countless centuries sought its power. They reached for it with greedy hands, but without the true inheritance, the sword judged them. Some were reduced to ash. Others were struck down by lightning that tore the sky apart."
Azraela's mind spun. "Where is it now?" she asked, breathless.
Mirna tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with a knowing light.
"Have you ever heard the legend of King Arthur's sword, Excalibur?" she asked.
Azraela blinked, her mind trying to catch up. "You are saying?"
Mirna gave a secretive smile as she stood, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"Let us just say the truth behind legends is often stranger than the stories left behind."
Azraela sat frozen, her body unable to move as her mind whirled with the enormity of everything she had just learned.
Outside, the sky darkened, and the first deep rumble of thunder echoed across the heavens, as if the storm above had heard their conversation and was answering in kind.
The winds picked up, and with them came the first heavy drops of rain, baptizing the world anew.
The battle for her destiny had begun.