A youthful-looking man had, without a doubt, otherworldly beauty. His skin was fair and pale, and his hair flowed like Japanese cherry blossoms. Long and wavy, it flowed down to his waist. Soft bangs fell past his eyes, yet they did little to hide them. His lips were dark pink, and his eyes carried a faint blossom hue as well. Dark circles framed those eyes, and he was alone in a great forest—a forest great in size and nature. As it was just outside Avalon.
He had returned from a visit to a friend and, for lack of better words, was bored. He had grown weary of life and had been waiting for death. But that death would never come. For he was an angel, and for as long as all of creation existed across the silver sea, he would live. Unlike most beings, angels are everlasting, forever in their prime, whether a hundred years old or a billion. And this man was far older than any of them.
As this was Apathiel Eventide, the first of all beings within the physical heaven. Yet to say he would never die is slightly misleading; should he wish, he could return to the great flow of all things, which is beyond even the silver sea.
Apathiel would return home to meet the great flow, to be free of life. There were no more wars, no more fighting, and all the strength and power he had accumulated over countless eons was for naught. For what is a soldier without a war? What is a man who belongs to the past, yet still breathes in the present?
A ghost.
Peace was a world he could not comprehend—a realm where his hands, too accustomed to the weight of a sword, found no purpose. A place where his name, once spoken with reverence, had faded into the whispers of a bygone era. He was a man out of time, trapped in a world that no longer required him. He told himself he could adapt, that he could live as others did, but no matter where he walked, he felt like a specter, haunting a life he had never been meant to lead.
And so he walked.
Through the forest thick with animals, monsters, and fairies, They tread carefully, careful not to mar his path. He came upon a cluster of flowers—Red Spider Lilies—reminding him of his friend, Remiel the Manjusaka. Kneeling, he plucked one, intending to leave it as a final gift before his departure.
As he held the flower, he noticed a path it seemed to mark. A surge of purpose stirred within him, he thought this must be God's guiding light and he followed. The path stretched seventy-eight feet before ending at a rock, perfectly shaped like an egg. Apathiel's thoughts turned to Remiel and the joy he had once felt upon seeing his child.
"Look, Apa! Look! Ain't she just a wonder upon this world?" Remiel had said, in great exhilaration. holding his child to the sun.
"I don't really know… I don't really see the real appeal of these tiny things," Apathiel had said, though hiding his great delight for his friend's joy.
"Oh, Apathiel, you are a great old man who cannot live without a war, who is the end of all things, and thus cannot understand the beauty of bringing life into the world." Remiel had said, prideful of having a child and arrogant at Apathiel's lack of one.
Apathiel had then stepped back, shocked and appalled.
"Me? Old? YOU ARE JUST AS OLD! AND I CAN LIVE PERFECTLY FINE WITHOUT A WAR, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, YOU PRICK!" Apathiel had said, with great defiance in his voice.
Remiel looked at him with a blank expression.
"Are you serious?" he said, in a monotone voice.
"…No," Apathiel looked down, pouting.
"But I do know beauty… the beauty of death. The great end to things—the force that gives meaning, the great ending that makes all else precious."
"....."
"..B-But have you thought of a name for her yet?" Apathiel said quickly, trying to change the subject, realizing that he alone had this option within the hall.
"Oh, yeah!!! My great, pretty bundle of joy," Remiel said in a soft baby voice, while looking at his daughter in his hands. "I will name her Asherah. One day, she will be a great and powerful angel, one the mortals will speak of for eons to come. She will be law and change. She will one day surpass both of us in fame and power." Remiel had exclaimed, with great pride and Prejudice.
Apathiel had only smiled and nodded.
Thousands of years ago, Remiel had been known as Remiel the Slayer, for the number of demons and monsters he had killed could have filled an entire universe.
"Ugh". Apathiel's cloak got tangled on a tree branch, which forced his thoughts back to the present.
Now, standing before the egg-shaped rock, Apathiel contemplated creation. He thought of making a child of his own. He did not wish to find a partner, and even less so a wife, but to bring forth life was not his jurisdiction. He was the Eventide, the Endbringer—not a giver of life. He wielded the absolute authority to conclude any process, any existence, any effect. He held dominion over everything that had already "ended"—people, stars, entire worlds—all under his command.
Yet this was life, not Death.
So he would use his own life stuff, that which the mortal beings called a soul. He reached into his chest, to rip out his heart, the blood spilling on the rock, and grass around it, and knell then placed it within the rock. A brilliant light flared, shining as bright as all suns. The stars of all the worlds aligned in perfect union at the becoming of this one's birth. Apathiel lifted and cradled the child, holding it close to his blooded chest.
It had blonde hair as bright and golden as the sun, and eyes just as great. They had fair pale skin with a hint of pink blush, a face exquisitely gorgeous, that they had.
"And… out pops a little bo… a little gir…?" he murmured, confusion now his own.
"Oh, I see… yes, I see. You are without sex, I see. Even still, you are my child—my son, or perhaps my daughter to be, whichever form you shall wear. Now, I shall name you… umm… something… umm… hmm… damn this is harder than I thought it would be, what had Remiel named his daughter? Ah yes, Asherah. But now… now you, my child… I have it. I shall name you Manassiel. You shall be my one and only, and I shall love you until the end of days. You shall bring forth joy and delight, and I swear, you had better have been worth it—heh, hah."