Chapter One

The Tragic Ballad of Samienne and Noriel

A long time ago, when everything was still young and new, angels had a lot more power in than they do today.
The angels had say of what went on in Earth - who lived, who died, who achieved greatness, and who ended up in the gutter.
Some angels were very good at their desired tasks. It seemed to be that the Dominions relished when they decided on the death times for the mortal folk down on Earth. They loved to swoop down from their seats high above, to tap on the shoulders of the old, to tell them their time was up.
The Seraphim, the highest choir of angels, enjoyed their particular task of bringing forth wisdom and spirituality into the mortals - both human and creature - and they did so with vigour and skill.
It soon became obvious, however, that one of the Seraphim longed for another task. He had done all he could possibly do to connect to the Earth beings, yet they did not want to listen to him, so he prayed for another purpose to come his way.
Meanwhile, whilst that particular Seraph was lamenting on how he had grown tired of his situation, one of the Cherubim, the rank just below Seraphim, began to realise how he had also become bored of his. Soon, the prayers of both angels were answered, and Samienne, the Seraphim, and Noriel, the Cherubim, were given bigger roles to pursue.
"Samienne," whispered the voice, "Your new purpose is to be the Guardian of the Moon. The Earth beings look up to the moon for guidance and companionship. You must now take her under your wing and make sure that she is always there for them, and that she is never hidden by the clouds."
“I promise that I will,” Samienne replied.
“And Noriel,” the voice spoke again, “Your new purpose is to be the Chariot of the Sun. The Earth needs the sun to survive and it is up to you to hold it up high above her, to make sure the Sun never burns out, never falters. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try my very best,” Noriel promised.

For many a year, that was how it followed. The Moon was kept under the watchful eyes of Samienne, and the Sun sat nestled between Noriel’s wings, which were previously white and had now been scorched grey. He did not mind. He had a task, the way his wings looked was not important.
However, as with many things, even to angels, the tasks grew tiresome, especially to Samienne. He was very proud of his post, and devoted to the moon, but he longed to do other things. He had begun to amuse himself by creating stars. He wasn’t sure when he learned how to do it, but he spent many nights lying on his back, blowing them out of his lips like bubbles, or casting them in his palms and scattering them across the bed of the sky.

One night, Samienne’s frivolous nature got the better of him. He was growing weary of watching the Earth people and animals go about their business. He especially tired of those who lamented the moon, who flocked underneath it like rats, each of them in pairs, each of them side by side – each of them in the deepest trance of love they could find themselves in.
Samienne decided enough was enough. He kissed the moon goodbye as he found himself suddenly distracted by a distant light. Knowing all of the angels were sleeping, or busy at their posts elsewhere, he shrugged away his cautions, and approached.

“Hello?” he called, “Who’s there?”
“Samienne – the moon guardian?” a timid tone replied, “That is Samienne, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” answered Samienne, “It is. Who are you?”
“You can’t tell, I suppose, when my light is turned off,” the voice retorted, with a smirk, “It is me, Noriel.”
Samienne was taken aback. He had heard of Noriel, but, until now, he’d never dare approach. He knew the guardian of the sun and the guardian of the moon were too different to mingle amongst one and other – he knew they were both too busy with the jobs they had been given to complete each day, each night.
“Noriel..?” Samienne smiled, “I’ve never met you. I’ve heard lots about you, though.”
“As have I, about you,” replied Noriel, his voice shrinking to a whisper, “but you shouldn’t be here. You’ve left the moon; you aren’t supposed to do that.”
“You get to sleep at night, like most of the others, when I take over,” Samienne smirked, “Surely I get a break too?”
“What do you do during the day?” Noriel asked.
“I remain on the other side,” explained Samienne, “I’ve been warned about that sun of yours. I’m not about to get my wings blackened.”
Deep down, Noriel knew it had been a joke, but he could not help but feel a stab of pain at Samienne’s words.
“My wings are tattered and blackened,” he sighed.
“Oh,” Samienne felt terrible suddenly. He paused for a moment, then suggested the unthinkable, “Let me see?”
Noriel panicked.
“Oh no,” he stammered, “You don’t want to see them. They’re just the same as everybody else’s wings, except smaller, grubbier and grey. Nothing spectacular.”
Samienne was adamant.
“Let me see.” He demanded, “I’m sure they look fine. Beautiful, even.”
Noriel began to feel incredibly nervous.
“My wings are tattered and blackened,” he repeated, “and you have been turned mad by the moon!”
Samienne laughed.
“Don’t be ridiculous” He scoffed, “now. Come on out. Let me see you.”
Noriel sighed and gave in, knowing inside he really wanted to. He emerged from his hiding place, his wings, as described, grey, tatty and torn, and his hair, a mass of golden curls that flowed from the top of his head to where his shoulders began. With soulful, dark eyes that held more affection than an angel ever should for another, he looked at Samienne, staring at his pale face with curiosity that could make a cat blush.
“See…” Samienne replied quietly, after what seemed like a lifetime of silence, “I was right. Beautiful…”
“You are wrong, I’m certain of it,” Noriel protested.
Samienne gazed at him, and with confidence he picked up from years of researching how the humans behaved, took Noriel’s hands.
“I did not mean just your wings,” he admitted, pulling him close. Noriel looked up at the taller angel and stopped his shivering.
“Clearly, we have been observing the creatures on Earth for too long,” he suggested, “We are acting just as they do.”

For what seemed all too short a time, Samienne and Noriel met up at night. They made an occasion of it, almost even a ritual. They would meet up in the middle of the clouds, hover just above the garden, and, as Samienne put the stars out, they would talk about trivial things, happy just to be with each other.
Then, their final, fateful meeting occurred. After a first kiss that eclipsed the sky, Samienne and Noriel found themselves surrounded – an ambush of Dominions had them trapped, their weapons blazing, their wings beating faster than fear.
“Go away from us!” Samienne cried, “We are doing no harm – we are keeping to our posts, we are hurting no one!”
“You are disobeying orders,” One snapped back.
“You must be put to trial,” another shouted.
“You are all talking out of line!” The loudest Dominion screamed. Noriel followed his voice in hope, but was met by an expression of hatred and anger.
“No trial is to be held for these two,” He continued, “See now, how the one who, right now should be protecting the moon, shields the sun guarder with his wings! I’ll have those wings tossed to the fires of Hell!”
“No,” protested Noriel, “Please! You don’t understand! We still care about our posts, we still attend to them! The sun will remain hot forever! The moon will not fall apart just because Samienne is not with her!”
“It has a name,” hissed a pair of twin angels, “Samienne…we shall remember that name.”
“Stay away from us,” Samienne glared, “Perhaps Noriel was right all along. Maybe too long at the side of the moon has driven me to madness…”
“That is supposed to be a threat,” the twins smiled, “Marrizel, you were completely right. They do not deserve a trial…”
“Then,” Marrizel, the loudest of the Dominion army asked, “Are we in agreement?”
“Yes!” A flurry of voices replied in unison, “No trial! No trial!”
“What is to happen to us? I feel like it is the end of the world…” Noriel admitted, burying his face into the soft, downy wings of his lover.
“I’m afraid, for us,” replied Samienne, feeling beaten, “I believe it is.”

They were dragged by the Dominions to a faraway place, away from the watchful eyes, away from any other angels or beings to see, somewhere near where the sun was awaiting the wake-up call by it’s master, their wings bound.
“Now, we are all here,” Marrizel spoke first, “I ask of Noriel a simple request. Samienne believes you to be beautiful, despite your obvious flaws, so please, do us the honour of showing your true self to him.”
“What?” Noriel gasped, “No! I can’t do that!”
Marrizel slapped him across the face.
“Do it.” He sneered, “My demands are small and short. Do as I say and this will be over as soon as it has begun.”
“Do as he says,” Samienne whispered, opting for bravery, “I am curious to see.”
Noriel closed his eyes in shame and terror at himself as the tethers were removed from his wings by Marrizel, who then motioned with his fingers to the other Dominions. They scattered, and he followed, in the split-second between Noriel’s wings unfurling and the sun being placed in between them, burning intensely. The Dominions returned as soon as Samienne’s screaming had stopped, and he was covering his face with his hands, his eyes destroyed, blinded by the one he loved most.
Noriel stumbled towards him, crying desperately. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry!”
“You did what you had to,” Samienne replied weakly, “but the thing I do not understand is how this hurts.”
“They have turned us human,” Noriel whispered, feeling the hot tears roll down his cheeks, “The monsters! They’ve turned us human.”
Marrizel approached them gravely, his hands falling on both of their backs, “Not quite.”
With the final angelic words they would ever hear, Samienne and Noriel felt themselves falling, searing like comets towards the Earth. Their wings had been ripped from their backs, and all at once, they felt every fear, every pain and every emotion known to humankind.
“This is not the end,” Samienne called to his lover, “I promise you – whatever happens to us, this is not the end. This is not how it ends!”
Noriel cried out to Samienne, screaming his name until he could do so no more, unheard between the howls and moans of the wind.

Samienne was the first to experience death, falling onto the skeleton of a winter tree, the branches pushing through his skin and newly formed muscles and bone. Had the fall itself not killed him, it would have been choking that should have been etched on his death certificate. Samienne had been blessed as a Seraphim with long, flowing ebony hair, which twisted around his neck and intertwined with the tree as he landed – spilling forth an eruption of blue blood from his mouth, vomiting the first and last of his life away.
Noriel fell beside the tree, and for a moment, it seemed that he had died a quick, sudden, and strangely clean death. However, he was still alive, and it crossed his mind briefly that perhaps his own punishment had been to watch Samienne suffer so, and lie in disgrace hanging.
Shakily, Noriel picked himself up and fell at Samienne’s feet, gazing up in awe of his beauty, and opened his mouth to tell him how much he adored him, but no sound came out. Not a murmur, not a sigh, nothing.
The last thing Noriel remembered was the sudden sensation of a monster in his chest, running after him, pounding, pounding, until it finally exploded and there was only black.

It is said that blue flowers grew in the place where Samienne and Noriel fell.

Samienne’s prophecy was right; it was most certainly not the end. In fact, it was only the beginning. The beginning for many an era when Samienne and Noriel would both be reborn, meet up again, and die together, as their punishment and curse.
Samienne was the first to experience death, and he always would be, and Noriel would always be there to witness it – there would always be heartache, there would always be pain and punishment, but above all of that, there would always be love.