THE FALLENS

As Xarath emerged from the portal, he found himself standing at the edge of a dense forest, the trees towering above him like sentinels. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and damp earth.

Xarath's eyes scanned the horizon, his gaze piercing the veil of the mortal realm. He could feel the pulse of the land, the rhythm of life and death that beat like a drum in the darkness.

With a thought, Xarath left Gorthok, his demon dog, behind in the underworld, tasking him to guard the portal and await his return. Xarath knew that his mission required stealth and cunning, and Gorthok's presence might have alerted the Archangel to his approach.

Meanwhile, in a nearby village, Azrael and Luna walked through the bustling streets, their mission to collect groceries for the mountain temple. The villagers nodded and smiled as they passed, unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

Azrael's senses were on high alert, his angelic instincts scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. And then, like a whisper in the wind, he felt it. A presence, dark and malevolent, that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the mortal realm.

Azrael's eyes narrowed, his gaze scanning the horizon. He could feel the demon's energy, like a cold, dark stain spreading across the land. It was a presence he had never felt before, one that seemed to resonate with the very essence of evil.

"Luna, I sense something," Azrael said, his voice low and urgent. "A demon, powerful and malevolent. It entered the mortal realm."

Luna's eyes widened, her wings fluttering with anxiety. "What do we do, Azrael?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Azrael's face set in a determined expression. "We prepare for battle," he said. "This demon is not to be underestimated. We'll need all our strength and cunning to defeat it."

As they spoke, the air seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening and twisting into grotesque, living things. The presence of the demon grew stronger, its energy seeping into the very fabric of reality.

Azrael's eyes blazed with determination, his heart burning with a fierce, angelic fire. He knew that the battle ahead would be fierce, but he was ready. For he was Azrael, the Archangel, and he would not falter in the face of evil.

Xarath's eyes blazed with malevolent intent as he began to levitate into the sky. His dark, crimson-red skin seemed to ripple and writhe, like living flame, as he rose higher and higher.

The air around him seemed to distort and ripple, as if reality itself was bending to accommodate his presence. His wings, dark and leathery, unfolded from his back, casting long, ominous shadows across the landscape.

As Xarath soared through the skies, his gaze fixed on the mountain temple in the distance. He could sense the wizard's presence, a faint hum of magical energy that seemed to emanate from the temple itself.

Zorvath, the wizard, stood at the edge of the temple's courtyard, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. He sensed it, a growing feeling of unease that seemed to build in intensity with each passing moment.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a dark, winged shape hovering in the distance. Xarath's presence was like a cold, dark stain spreading across the land, and Zorvath knew that he was the source of the evil energy.

"Ah, no," Zorvath muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing in concern. "It seems we have demon friend."

With a swift motion, Zorvath raised his staff, and a burst of magical energy erupted from the tip. The energy coalesced into a shimmering barrier, one that would protect the temple and its occupants from the demon's evil destructive power.

Zorvath's eyes never left Xarath's form, his gaze fixed intently on the demon as he prepared for battle. He knew that Xarath was a formidable foe, one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

But Zorvath was not one to back down from a challenge. He stood tall, his staff at the ready, as he awaited Xarath's arrival. The battle ahead would be fierce, but Zorvath was confident in his abilities. He would defend the temple, with his life.

Xarath descended upon the temple, his dark wings beating the air with a deafening roar. He landed with a thud, his eyes blazing with malevolent intent as he gazed upon the wizard.

"Where is the Archangel Azrael?" Xarath growled, his voice like thunder in the courtyard.

Zorvath stood tall, his staff at the ready. "I will not tell you," he said, his voice firm and resolute.

Xarath's face twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing with anger. "You dare to defy me?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

With a swift motion, Xarath raised his hand, and a bolt of dark energy shot towards Zorvath. The wizard raised his staff, and a shield of magical energy erupted from the tip, deflecting the attack.

The battle had begun.

Xarath unleashed a flurry of attacks, each one more powerful than the last. Zorvath countered with his own magic, the two of them exchanging blows in a spectacular display of light and sound.

Meanwhile, Azrael and Luna were hurrying back to the temple, sensing the darkness that had descended upon the sacred place.

"Azrael, I sense something terrible," Luna said, her voice trembling with fear. "The demon is attacking the temple!"

Azrael's face set in a determined expression. "We must hurry," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "Zorvath is defending the temple, but he is alone."

With a burst of speed, Azrael and Luna rushed towards the temple, their hearts pounding with anticipation. They knew that they were about to face a formidable foe, one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

As they approached the temple, the sounds of battle grew louder, the air thickening with the smell of smoke and ozone. Azrael's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed intently on the temple.

"We're almost there," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Get ready, Luna. We're about to face the demon."