The Angels of Light and Death

I remember my last moments as an Angel of Light. They were spent, appropriately, in combat with the Angel of Death.

As an Angel of Light, I saw the light within everything: even my opponents. And though I'd won the fight, I was certain I'd lost the fight: as the Angel of Death lay crumpled on the floor of heaven beneath the pointed tip of my blade, I thought that she looked too beautiful to finish off.

I sheathed my blade, knowing that I'd have to finish the job in the coming years.

Needless to say, we met again in a future lifetime.

The year, according to foolish calendars of the mortals, was 2020. The Angel of Death had taken force in Babylon, where she operated a chain of beauty stores and clothing shops. Using the guise of 'fashion,' she had devised a way for mortals to willingly sell their freedom in exchange for false piety, materialism, and vanity.

I approached the Angel of Death where she resided: the CEO's office of the world's largest fashion chain. Reclining in her chair, feet perched on the desk, she regarded me through slitted eyes as I unsheathed my sword.

"Before I kill you," I muttered, "would you like to know why I didn't finish you off the first time?"

The Angel of Death regarded me with steely eyes, keeping her legs crossed calmly on the desk.

I, the Angel of Light, wore a pristine dress so pure that it seemed to shine as bright as the sun. I stood poised with my cerulean blade pointed at the Angel of Death, who stared at me with eyes underscored by jet-black eyeliner. She wore dark netted stockings and had hair so dark that it seemed to suck the light from the room.

A moment after this poetic exchange between the duality of Yin and Yang, she nodded.

"It was because you were too beautiful."

It has been said that when the cold heart of Death is touched by the fire of compassion, it warms. At that moment, the Angel's frozen heart and the billions of souls trapped in limbo within were pierced by the light of love, and the ice began to melt.

I bore witness to something unprecedented in the entire history of the cosmos: the Angel of Death stuttered, and then responded:

"I... thought you were quite beautiful, too."

As the two polar opposites converged and the ice of the Angel's cold heart melted, a thousand oceans began to flood the very planes of Hell. The waves that crashed across purgatory took with them the tormenting inferno that had tortured lost spirits for eternities. In the brief moment that the Angel of Death let her walls down and accepted the limitless gift of compassion, humanity was freed from its bonds.

And me and the Angel of Death became, like, totally BFFs.