Darksiders: The Abomination Vault Read Online Free PDF Page A

and the blade of his glaive was badly notched. It had struck something, repeatedly, yet no blood marred the edge.
    A moment, to plant Harvester a few inches deep in the soil, where it stood like some petrified pennant, and then Death knelt beside the fallen soldier. He held his left hand, palm-down, above the corpse’s heart; the right, with fingers curled toward the sky. His mask quivered as he incanted syllables that no humanoid mouth should ever have been able to produce.
    A fragment, the tiniest sliver, of the angel’s departed soul split away, swept back through the worlds by the Horseman’s necromancy. And though the blood did not flow, nor the lungs draw breath, the eyelids fluttered open as the angel awoke.

CHAPTER TWO
    I DO NOT  … W HERE  …
    Who are you?
    Oh, Creator, that voice! Everywhere, everywhere …
    Who are you?
    I do not understand. I saw the most wondrous colors, heard the most beautiful songs. I was at peace …
    And you will return shortly. Who are you?
    My name … I am … I was Sarasael.
    You know who I am?
    I do. I know not
how
I know, but I knew you the moment you called me back, before I knew even myself.
    You died here .
    Yes.
    You were murdered here. Cut down by your enemies. I would know who. I would know what happened .
    And then I might return to my rest?
    I promise it .
    Then listen well …
    I WAS A SOLDIER of the White City, and served well for centuries uncounted. My place was, and likely would ever be, withthe Faneguard. We were a brigade of steadfast, battle-hardened warriors. Our commander was Malahidael, personally chosen and elevated to the rank of general by our Lord Abaddon himself!
    We were a rarity among the legions of the White City: a division tasked with the defense and protection of vital or sacred places, rather than more direct action against the enemies of Heaven. A position of smaller glories, perhaps, less likely to raise us high in the esteem of our brethren, but an urgent and necessary undertaking for all that. We did our duty, followed where Malahidael ordered, and never once resented our lot.
    In our day, we guarded military outposts and ancient temples and repositories of knowledge that would make even the archivists of the Charred Council weep with envy. And then, at the dawn of the current age, we were assigned to patrol the borders of Eden.
    I can sense your surprise. You had no notion that the angels had taken it upon ourselves to defend the garden. But is it truly so startling? We know the Creator’s mind; we know His plans for that place, and for the race yet to be born.
    We certainly could not trust the Charred Council to look after Eden. Even if they thought it fell under their purview—and we still do not comprehend their thoughts or motivations well enough to guess whether they would have—who could they send to defend it? One of you? A Horseman? The last of the Nephilim, whose bloody transgressions are the very reason Eden requires protecting at all? No. Unacceptable.
    So the Faneguard came here, to this empty little world to which Eden is bound. Our long-term presence might technically violate our pact with Hell and the Charred Council, but we’ve never interfered with the world itself, nor left the isolated area we were meant to guard. A defensive force only, ready to rebuff any effort by any creature or faction to breach the sanctity of the garden, until the coming of the race-to-be.
    Our task was simple, and our battles few. Mostly we engaged the occasional scavenger, a Maker or one of the other Old Ones curious to explore the promised land, or to study its nature, or perhaps to forage the remains of your slaughtered brethren. We drove most away with ease, and killed those who proved too intractable for their own good. Again, perhaps not the most exhilarating of assignments, but we understood its importance.
    I do not
believe
we grew complacent. I believe that the forces that came upon us so recently—I cannot say precisely when,