Earth-1368; Brothers

Trigger warnings

Death, blood, dismemberment, demonic ritual

This is a story that covers an important event in the past of MU-Earth-1368. The death of Zarathos, the creation of Ghost Rider and a powerful demonic bloodline. The scars on Mephisto, and a hint for Lilith’s betrayal. The story only uses biblical names, and is not a commentary on the religious text. For MU; it sets more story for the past of Unwanted.

“Zarathos,” Mephisto almost sang the name as he stepped through the door. The servant who had fetched him, a barely sentient demon thrawl, quivering behind him.

“Brother,” Zarathos, the tall and sleek demon inside the room, returned gleefully. A wide smile present on his soft grey face.

“I was worried when you sent one of them to fetch me,” Mephisto expressed, scoffing towards the servant which immediately cowered back.

“Please, you know no other creature will carry my exact words without twisting them in their favour. Or have you forgotten how most of us lie?” Zarathos almost challenged with a laugh, making Mephisto shake his head with a sweet smile. Waving the servant away as he entered the room. Listening to the door sealing behind him.

“It must be important for you to meet me here,” Mephisto started, stepping over to his most trusted consultant, glaring across the table that stood in the centre. “Where His eyes and ears cannot reach.”

“I… had a vision,” Zarathos started, looking to his king with a sudden worry in his golden eyes.

“A vision? I thought you told me He stripped you of such when you fell,” he questioned, raising his red clawed hand to lay it on Zarathos's silver decorated shoulder. Squeezing down as he forced the other to make complete eye with him.

“I thought so as well,” he responded quietly, “but I think He may have sent me the vision on purpose.”

“Why would he ever-”

“It's God, What do you expect?” Zarathos cut through Mephisto's words with a raised eyebrow.

Had it been anyone else the king of Hell would've had them executed in public while begging for their lives. Yet when it was his consultant, his right hand wing man, he burst out laughing in response. Holding his gut with a cackle so infections the entirety of Hell would have erupted in laughter alongside him. Yet Zarathos stood with a frown, rubbing his nose bridge while groaning.

“That's right!” Mephisto exclaimed, grinning wide as he finally stopped laughing. “God. Say, weren't you a favourite? Even high ranking.”

“You already know, brother. How else would I have created a room he cannot see,” Zarathos rolled his eyes, then looked to the table in the room. Where his books laid sprawled about. Every word written delicately with an ink mixture he himself created. For writing with the blood of the punished worked, but dried far too soon for his liking.

“Alright, alright,” Mephisto laughed, brushing tears out of his eyes with a lingering snicker. “Tell me what I need to hear, angel boy.”

“... I can still kill you,” Zarathos muttered.

“Awww good to know you still love me.” Mephisto egged the other on, only shutting up when he saw Zarathos's intense stare. One he hadn't seen in centuries.

“Not today, brother. I cannot waste much time,” he took in a sharp breath, exhaling a puff of white smoke upon release.

“One day. Tomorrow, in a century, perhaps even in many millennia. Hell will reach earth.” he began, his words already bringing confusion to Mephisto's face. “It will not be carried out by natural means, nor will it pull any sight of angels. For a singular demon leads the spread, the beasts and the people… many humans will die. Many. I cannot see if they succeed or if they are stopped. All I can see is a shape, ever changing in its outline. The fire cycling through all colours, and through every demon.”

He paused, and swiftly grabbed Mephisto's shoulder. Who was quietly processing it. His yellow eyes shifting back and forth as his sharp pupils showed Zarathos he wasn't even there. His tongue clicking, and his fingers shifting at his side. While his shoulders slowly started sinking under his pressure.

“Please-”

“No,” Mephisto swiftly lifted his hand to Zarathos’ arm, squeezing. “No I am not the one you see. Brother. I promised you a century ago, and it is a promise I intend to keep. You adore the humans, and I have to say their wonder and thoughts are wonderful for Hell. So no, my advisor, councilor, and most trusted bro. It is not me.”

Zarathos let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, nodding his head a few times as well. He patted Mephisto's shoulder, then composed himself slowly. His eyes darted to what was written, and his hands nervously rubbed along the holy scars that laid across his arms. Enough to keep him from holding a sword, but not from holding a pen.

“There is something else isn't there?” Mephisto asked quietly, tilting his head slightly as he looked across the papers. The last two weren't even in any written language, it was just scribbles and lines.

“I don't know how long I have,” Zarathos itted. “I did something I said I'd never do. The very reason I fell. The one thing I can be pushed for… and I think I for once went too far, brother. There may be no way to save me from it this time.”

“What?” Mephisto almost spat out, staring at his most trusted with worry. “What can they possibly do-”

He was cut off by loud knocks on the door. It wasn't unheard of, but by the way Zarathos’ black and burnt wings dropped to the ground upon hearing it; it wasn't good.

“They're… already here?” he whispered as Mephisto firmly grabbed his shoulder.

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Centuries before

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“Don't!” his voice so sharply rang out that it brought Zarathos right back from his land of endless thoughts. Showing him where he had stood; at the edge of the stairs to the heavenly gates. His heavy white wings, with the golden second and third set around his legs and eyes, folded back as he turned. His white toga briefly shimmering with the disappearance of his golden armour.

“Altair,” his smooth voice whispered before his little brother gripped his arm. The tug back was rough, but immediately got the man moving. “Alright alright, let's not rush-”

“No!” Altair turned, glaring up at the golden orbs that looked at him so curiously. “I am not letting you stand there. Not after what you told Luci, what you told father.”

“Altair, please,” Zarathos spoke, raising his hand to lay it on the other’s shoulder; but it was smacked away.

“No, I don't care what you have to say. I am not losing another brother. Not after… after Michael.” Altair calmed down upon the words, crossing his arms while he looked to the golden tinted wings that usually encased Zarathos’ legs.

“I understand-”

“Zarathos! Altair!” Samuel shouted as he finally reached them, almost tumbling down the stairs to reach them both. “Father's thoughts- I feared I had been late.” he uttered as he wrapped his arms and wings around the two instantly.

“Samuel,” Zarathos spoke the name carefully, his hand gently moving the angel's wing off of him.

“Right… personal space.” Samuel mumbled, retracting his wings but not his arms. Which was sufficient for Zarathos.

“Must I explain myself again? Just to ease your mind,” he looked to Alitar, who didn't even want to look at him. Disappointing the older angel; but he understood.

“Yes. Just, not here, we should discuss it with our brothers.” Altair muttered, but was met with only a ruffle of his hair from Zarathos.

“No, we will not. For you will all vote against my decision. I am the oldest among us, the one He has given the most power. Therefore… my thoughts, the ones I cannot battle any longer, have to be fulfilled. I cannot sit idly by any longer. My role may be to carry His voice, but I wish to use all I know to aid. To show the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve what to do. So another Cain will not occur… so that men will not act like Michael when they see a woman.” Zarathos raised himself high, causing Samuel's arm to fall off his shoulders. While his eyes lifted to the gates they stood in front of.

“But you can do that through his words,” Altair pleaded. “Stay. Please. We need you here.”

“No… you want me here. But angels aren't meant to want anything, little brother. If one does, temptation is too close to their reach.” Zarathos lectured Altair, before he'd ruffle both the angels' hair with a little chuckle.

“You can both travel to them, today is not the last day you see me. It is just the last day you see this form, my brothers. You will always be able to find me, and I will always respond. I write it so, and so it shall stay for eternity,” his golden eyes gave a bright flash of light. Indicating he had cast a powerful holy incantation upon them with his words. Making Samual gasp with wide eyes.

“He didn't let you-”

“Boys,” His smooth and empowering voice brought all three's attention over to him.

“Father!” Samuel squeaked, running quickly to God's side. “I thought you were going to be resting.”

“I cannot rest while one of my sons struggle,” he explained, slowly walking over to Altair and Zarathos. “Are you certain about your wish, my son?”

“Dad, you can't just let him!” Altair protested, having grabbed onto Zarathos arm firmly once more.

“Altair,” Zarathos spoke quietly, patting Altair's hand, “I cannot stay… I will get worse. And one day, I know I will cause you all more pain if I stay.”

“You don't know that!” Altair snapped back, staring up at his older brother.

“But I do,” he promptly responded, lifting his golden gaze to their Father with a pained expression on his face.

“... you saw your fall.” God responded quietly, placing his warm hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I saw many different falls… I saw me drag angels with me, I saw me causing you great pain before you throw me, I saw Altair fall with his wing shattered, I saw Samuel leap off without a care, I saw-”

“My son,” Zarathos stopped as the soothing words were uttered. His wings shivering as he was pulled into a tight hug. A hug where he felt his wings burn with fiery sensations.

“... I release you from your burden. I release you from your sight. And I release you from your titles.” God spoke firmly, then slowly let go of Zarathos. Pausing to watch the once happy and content angel cry in relief.

“I thank you, Father. As I thank you, my brothers.” Zarathos cried out, looking to Altair and Samuel who stood with tears of their own.

“Do not forget what I have told you.” he expressed, hugging both angels and wrapping his wings around them firmly. “I will always be here. I will always be just a word away.”

“I hate that you are leaving,” Altair muttered through his teeth. Holding so firmly onto Zarathos that the bigger angel struggled to move.

“We're going to miss you,” Samuel expressed.

“Continue your lives, and I will ensure we will see each other once more.” he hummed, shifting his hands to rub Altair's tears away, then swiftly ruffled Samuel's hair. Afterwards he stepped back, bowed to them; and God, then took another three steps. His smile grew the closer he got, before he'd stretch his arms and wings to the side with a sigh of relief. His eyes closed; and he fell.

_____________________________________

Back in Hell, still before time was counted

_____________________________________

“What is the meaning of this!?” Mephisto roared as he entered his throne room. His cape flourishing like a blazing flame while he moved.

“We assumed your advisor would’ve explained,” Uriel almost snarled, aiming the head of his spear at Zarathos as he stepped through. “Or are you holding secrets even to your king, brother?”

Zarathos was quiet, merely staring with half open eyes as his hands folded. He wasn’t shocked that Uriel was standing in front; but as his eyes drifted to the back his dark wings drooped. Samuel stood quietly in the back of the group. His head dropped while he carried a basket tightly within his grasp. Zarathos immediately knew what it was, and felt anger boiling within him at the thought of them making him do that.

“Please,” Mephisto scoffed, “secrets are our livelihood! I may expect the truth, but I am not disappointed that he has kept such a secret from me!”

“Enough… my king,” Zarathos whispered as he stepped forwards. Standing between Mephisto and Uriel when he came to a halt. “I am prepared for my punishment, Uriel. I am disappointed to see so many of you; because a battle would never have happened.”

“Tch. You think I believe that? You think Father, whom you stabbed in the gut with your decision, believes that?” Uriel snarled, swinging his beard which cut straight across Zarathos’ face. Making the demon king behind him roar, and the angels in front flinch. Yet Zarathos just raised a hand, and remained unmoving as the thick black and gold blood trickled down his face. Splattering on the ground and his clothes.

“I am not Michael. This is all unnecessary. Because I come unarmed, and I face my punishment without regret.”

“What has he even done to cause this!?” Mephisto yelled, his voice echoing once more, as he stepped up beside Zarathos. His swords drawn.

“He broke the one rule we all have to obey!” Uriel responded. “He created life!”

“Psh. You angels might follow this rule, but we can make as many offsprings as we wish. So I ask again, what has he done?!” Mephisto argued for his advisor. Who had slid a delicate hand onto his arm. Calming him down to the mere cold blue flamed touch.

“You really didn’t tell him, huh?” Uriel spoke, a shit eating grin plastered across his face. His words oozing with confidence. “He created life in the only way God can. He used magic, unwritten spells, and forbidden ingredients to create a daughter. One he has since hidden from even God’s sight!”

Mephisto turned his head towards Zarathos after the explanation. His eyes wide and his mouth agape. His fists tightening around the sword hilts.

“That’s…” his head twisted swiftly, burning with anger as he stared at the angels. [c]“Impossible! We cannot access such powers without eradicating ourselves. You know damn well that God has stripped him of all this. That he cannot do miracles like you angels!”

Uriel scoffed as he sat his spear down on the ground. Leaning his head to the side to pop his neck, before he’d just laugh. The angels on either side looking at him with a confused glance as Samuel started shivering.

“Do you even know who you are speaking about? Do you even know who your advisor is? What he is-”

“ENOUGH!” Zarathos’ shout carried a wave of energy. One that sent Uriel and the other two angels flying back, leaving only Samuel standing. As well as Mephisto at his side.

“I will not have this!” he spat, then turned to Mephisto fully. “I created her,” he stammered. [c]“She is ours, brother. A perfect mixture of your magic and my fire, with the humanity that we so adore! I am her father, and you her uncle. She is to be your student, and her bloodline mine.”

Mephisto was quiet, staring at Zarathos with wide eyes. His hands shaking before he dropped his swords and his head. Unable to look at his advisor who quietly laid his head against his. Their hair tangling, while Mephisto felt the cold hands grip his shoulders firmly.

“This… is not the end. It is just the last time you see me in this form.” Zarathos started, causing Samuel to squeak as the angel approached the two. Only to pause when Zarathos briefly looked his way. Shaking his head before he returned it to Mephisto.

“I will always be your advisor, always be at your side. I will never truly leave you, brother. So it is written. For eternity.”

“How dare you!” Uriel shouted before Zarathos gasped and Samuel screamed.

Mephisto barely had time to react before the angel carrying the basket had flung Uriel back. In turn letting the spear that had stabbed through Zarathos get pulled out. Leaving the fallen angel crumbling to his knees. The king of hell clinging to his bleeding body, while the sweetest of the angels crouched at their side. The basket was thrown away. Its contents, holy water of the highest grade, splattering across the floor. Burning through the very stone it landed on, creating a crater that they’d have to fix later. The basket, and the bottle that held the water, got destroyed in the process.

“It is not-” Zarathos had to stop so he could cough up blood that he almost choked on. “The end! This I promise you. Both of you! As long as my blood lives, so shall I.”

“Spare you breath, brother,” Samuel mumbled, reaching a hand out, “it’s not lethal-”

“No, you cannot heal him.” Mephisto quietly muttered, clutching Zarathos’ hand in his as he stared at the other.

“I will find your blood, one day or another, and train them as you request. It may not be your daughter, but they will hold your blood. I will ensure you and your teachings do not die.”

Zarathos nodded despite his battling, his eyes lifting to Samuel as they returned to their old glow from before. His hand reached to his brother’s face, smearing it in his own blood just to wipe the angels’ tears.

“Altair is going to be pissed…” Samuel whispered, hugging onto his older brother’s arm.

“Then so it shall be,” Zarathos whispered in response, coughing before he dropped his head back. His hands grew limp, while Samuel quietly begged. Laying down over his former brother in a tight hug. While Mephisto stood up tall, and glared upon the three other angels. His eyes ablaze in red.

_____________________________________

Moments later

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“This is not the end, king of hell!!!” Uriel exclaimed, stumbling back while he held his bleeding arm. Two dead angels strung at his side, with their wings far from their bodies.

“So you have said!” Mephisto yelled in response. Gasping briefly for air as he regained his composure. His body sizzled and burned as the angel blood splattered across him became smoke. Swirling around him in an inferno that only the king of hell could truly demonstrate. Yet, when the angel in front of him had scrambled away and flown back to his “sky daddy” he turned around. Because the only sound after the fighting had fully settled; was the quiet sobs of Samuel.

“Oi, kid,” Mehisto rumbled, slowly walking over to Samuel and Zarathos. Glaring briefly at the still corpse of his advisor. Who would’ve clearly survived this; if he hadn’t used his powers to create kin.

“You have to leave. Hell does all kinds of things to angels who stay,” he muttered, sheathing his swords while he knelt down beside the two. Laying a burnt fist on the angel’s shoulder, which made Samuel flinch to look at him. His eyes wide and riddled with so many tears he barely saw the king of hell through them.

“Why does this always happen to us?” he asked between sobs. Which made the demon king tilt his head, then smiled; a sweet but short lived one.

“Sometimes angels and demons have to face hardships just as the humans do. To shape us, to form us as we are. Because angels and demons can grow… and just as mortals; consequences can kill us.” Mephisto quietly explained before he shook the angel's shoulder. Encouraging him to leave a few more times, which he eventually did.

Samuel left, and in turn the king of hell was left completely alone. Staring at the still remaining body of his advisor. Watching as the wound left from the angel’s spear seemed to have entangled the spirit. A spirit Zarathos was never truly meant to have.

“Why would you have ever…” he whispered to himself as tears formed in his eyes. His head dropping while he raised a hand to finally close the fallen angel’s eyes.

“Mephistopheles,” the soft call of Lilith rang behind him. Followed by the soft thuds of her heels as she moved in closer. “Is everything alright, my king? Shall I call for your army to be ready to fight the angels? They may be coming this way after-”

“Shut up,” Mephisto snarled as he slid his arms under Zarathos. Lifting his limp and dead friend from the ground. “Shut up, Lilith. I don’t give a fuck about those angel pricks. We have lost Zarathos. We have lost the strongest and fairest among us all. We are to mourn, not fight.”

Lilith stuttered as she walked closer, dragging angelic blood along with the trail of her deep green dress. Her eyes sharp, almost sinister, as she gritted her teeth in annoyance. “But, my king, should we not avenge him? Rain hell upon the heavens for what they-”

“I told you to shut your mouth,” Mephisto snapped, having barely turned his head to stare her down. “We are mourning, not fighting. Get that through your thick skull and get someone here to clean up the damn blood!”

With that said he left the room. Vanishing behind the throne towards the room that Zarathos had sat up for him. His most trusted, the soldier who will burn forever with his embers, running in behind him. Sprinting past Lilith on its endless path to follow Mephisto’s every command.

“He… didn’t want it?” Lilith whispered to herself, clutching her fist and tightening her jaw. “I am not his errand girl.” she snarled to herself, then left. Her steps closer to stomps than steps.

“My ghost,” Mephisto rumbled as he laid Zarathos down on the table. Pushing everything down onto the floor. “My soldier,” he continued as the ever burning soldier stepped to his side. A human in eternal torment of burning as punishment for standing up against the king once. Loyal to its burnt core, with its bones so sharply on display the surfaces were almost reflective.

“I need you… to hunt them. To ensure that neither demon nor angel can walk earth without punishment. That men so riddled with sin they can become demons are immediately sent to me. I need control. I need a loyal soldier, a… loyal friend. Who can ensure that even I won’t try to take the human world. So that none of us will.”

He turned to the soldier who stared without eyes. Unmoving and unresponsive. The eyes that he had created; able to see all and read the soul fully without any difficulty. The eyes that Zarathos had forged with his own sight. Which meant the only thing perfect to give the soldier the exact tool it would need… was a strong soul of its own.

Mephisto turned to Zarathos’ body, and with a small cry of despair he ripped what remained of his friend’s soul out. Taking some of his blood and some of his still clinging to life magic. Grasping, clasping, and reforming it. Grabbing sections of his dead friend’s heart to ensure it remained together. All the while the soldier at his side got rid of his chest plate. Exposing its ribcage and its burning core. He was quick to gather it all, locking it with a ring of deep red demonic magic before he pushed the heart, blood and soul into the chest of the soldier. Muttering words through gritted teeth as he fought against the burling fire that sprouted as the soldier devoured it all.

“Be reborn!!” Mephisto roared as he pushed in between the ribs. Giving the long lost soldier a new heart and soul in one swift but brutal ritual. Leaving his friend's corpse mangled, but it would all be better. He ripped his hands back with a big push from the sudden force of the being reforming itself. Roaring as it snapped a newly created jaw bone back into place. Panting, before speaking in a deep husky voice;

“What… do you… require… master.”

Mephisto turned to him, rubbing his burning hands while he grumbled. Glaring at the burning ghost in front of him. The soldier he always had leading his charged battalions. His ghost rider.

“I will find you a vessel. And you… you will be my tool of vengeance. Mine to command until I have said we are done.”

“Yes… my king.”

Will, I had permission to write the character for this story.

#Earth1368