Righteous fury stormed through the cavernous halls, waiting for a guardian to come forth and oppose it. Maimon was on his first mission issued by his new lord, one that he had been instructed to report to Thrum to learn anything about.
He had spent an hour in the ancient deity's presence, learning all he could.

Despite being an ancient being himself, Maimon had only heard stories about what Thrum told him.
The Sinner, supposedly nothing but ugly rumour and superstition amongst the Angels who resided in the heavens; a demoness who had travelled to heaven and warned of an impending war between heaven and the underworlds almost at the sacrifice of her own life, only to be betrayed and locked away for forevermore by the deities she warned.
He didn't think there would be any truth behind the stories, but...
He had no doubt that Thrum told him the truth, that Mars had, indeed, done something unforgivable to the demoness, that the story was in fact true.
He was to rescue her.

He'd prepared thoroughly, ensuring his holy blade was still rife with blessed power and that his armour was pristine. He entrusted his daughter, Purity, to the wife of his lord, a female anthropomorphic shark Reaper named Halycone, someone he knew he could trust implicitly. She was nearly two years old now, his daughter, and she had said her first words, two of which he was sure she'd picked up from the other angels:
'Daddy' and 'oh crap'.

He strode confidently, each step with purpose. His lord had graced him with the power of Reapers, the ability to ignore locks or doors, to pass through them as if they were simply not there. No lock can hold a Reaper.
He passed through intricately carved solid oak doors with gold panelling and ducked a swung spear which buried itself into the wood. Still he strode, ignoring the furious yells of the angels in the room until they all stood before him prepared to run him through.
His sword was unsheathed.

As if passing through but water, his holy blade carved the spears in half. An angel tried to halt him with physical prowess, but the unlucky male was simply flung across the hall with but a swing of Maimon's hand. Angels may be alike, but to an Archangel of a god, they are but angry gnats. The angels, after a solid beating, were soon huddled together in a corner tending to one-another's wounds, leaving Maimon free to proceed into the final hall. He passed through the iron door and allowed his holy blade to illuminate the room.
What he found nearly made him drop his weapon.

The Sinner was here, staring up at the ceiling with a pair of spikes driven through her neck into her jaw, keeping her from screaming. She was but a torso and head, her arms missing and her body gone, apparently violently ripped from her current body just under her ribcage. Her spine dangled down, her entrails left to sit in a bowl carved but inches below where her spine ended, it too sheared short. She was supported by a pair of holy stakes in the shape of crosses, Thrum's icon, and she wept pitifully. The stories were not just true; they told of a truth most horrifying.

He moved across the room, stopping before her and looking down at her pain-filled eyes. She only stared back, her pain masking any emotion she had towards him. Carefully he sheathed his sword, reaching forth with both hands and wrenching the stakes from her body. She groaned and screamed in her throat, unable to move her jaw. Maimon removed his hood, quickly scooping her innards into it and holding it up with her spine before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her from the iron spikes still holding her up.
"I knew someone would come..." She wheezed weakly.
'Any harm she has taken she will likely be unable to regenerate within her tomb.' Thrum had informed him. 'You must leave with all due haste once you have her, as she is liable to bleed to death.'
Maimon gritted his teeth and closed his eyes; the weeping female's savaged body leaving blood all over his robes. He pursed his lips and whistled loudly and then waited. After a few moments, there was a flash of light from outside the room, and the doors were ripped from their hinges by a large, nearly black purple wyvern with a saddle. She gave him a curious look before urging him to her. Hurriedly he moved to the dragon, climbing into the saddle. She ran across the room, magic swirling and condensing all around her, before the trio vanished.

They reappeared in Judgement, by Thrum's throne. Maimon climbed down from his perch and hurried up the steps to the powerful deity.
Another god stopped him.
"Where do you think you are going?" Mars demanded.
"Thrum is expecting me, lord Mars." Maimon replied meekly.
"I think not!" Mars snapped. "You will hand me the demon!"
Maimon blinked, thinking back on any advice he had been told about handing situations like this. Nothing sprung to mind before the wyvern swooped out of nowhere and tackled Mars to the ground, a new rider on her back.
"Good girl, Lilith." Trace said, patting her side. "Mars, you have done enough wrong to this girl, do not do something that you will regret."
Maimon took a large step up the stairs. "Thank you, milord!"
"We have not time for thanks, Thrum waits."

Maimon wasted no time in hurrying to Thrum's side, kneeling and averting his eyes from the god.
"I have returned milord." He announced. "Please, she is in dire need of aid!"
Thrum nodded, leaning forth and placing a palm on the demoness' head. Light engulfed her, and Maimon set her on the tiles as Thrum's magic pulsed in the room. When the light faded, she was kneeling on the tiles, facing Thrum's throne while she kept her eyes to the floor. A mist seemed to surround her, wherever she was the atmosphere of the Underworld would be, to shield her from the light that could do nothing but harm to her.

"It has been many, many centuries since last I met on you, young demoness." The god's familiar voice boomed into her ears. "Yet your aura seems only more pure than ever before. I am most sorry for what you have endured, Mars' actions were inexcusable. You suffered much back in your home realm, abused daily by your fellow demons, and you only put yourself further into harm by travelling to judgement itself to warn us of their warmongering plans; I had no intention of doing any harm to you that day.
"Yet, after almost eighty centuries you clung to life after being betrayed by those you trusted, and I cannot apologise enough for the torture you have been through, all to protect the mortal realm." He knelt down to her and gently lifted her face to see his own. "Young one, do you know who I am?"
She shook her head for what she could. "N... no, milord," She breathed huskily, her vocal cords unused to being used after so long, "I know not the faces of gods."
"Back when you arrived in heaven, you spoke to me, unaware of who I might be; only hoping that I could save the mortal realm." Thrum reinforced. "Of all the gods, you chose well who to speak to; I am Thrum."
The demoness' eyes went wide in shock, and she hurriedly pushed her face from his.
"I-I do not deserve your attention..!"
Thrum chuckled.

"Demoness, upon arrival at Judgement, you touched a part of my being; you gained my regard, that you might blindly enter Heaven unarmed and unprepared only to give us aid. Such bravery is legendary, but that you endured for so long in Mars' tomb without breaking your spirit or mind... You have managed to acquire true respect from me, and I am not one to let the honoured down."
Thrum put a hand on her shoulder, letting his holy magic flow into every fibre of her being. "Young demoness," he began, "of all the creatures in the worlds, you have shown faith beyond measure," he moved his hand from her shoulder to her crown, where it began to shine brilliantly, her hair managing to smooth itself back and tie itself into a loose tail, "you have shown that even demons are not beyond redemption. I place you under the guidance of Tara, Hindu goddess of peace and protection, as one of her angels, and bestow upon you sainthood; you are now Wyetta the Faithful."
His hand moved from her head back to his side, and a halo burst to life behind her head, glowing brightly. The aura of underworld atmosphere around her had dissipated, and yet she did not burn, proving that she was, indeed a divine being. Tears streamed from her face, tears of joy and pain now passed.
"M-milord..?" She breathed.
"Yes, my child?"
She almost leapt from the tiles, throwing her arms around his shoulders in an embrace as she cried blissfully. He didn't startle, merely returning the gesture by folding his arms around her back.
"You have given me kindness I could never have dreamed of!" She cried happily. "I have a purpose; words cannot express my thanks!
Thrum chuckled. "Your actions speak the words that a thousand could not and you are most welcome, my child." He said kindly before gently pushing her off of him. "Now, this angel shall lead you to your goddess, go with him."
She nodded and turned, smiling blissfully to Maimon as her eyes fell on his.
"Come along, Wyetta;" he urged, "it does not do to keep the gods waiting."
She nodded and followed him, he turning back to her for but a moment in the great hall.
"I trust you shall work hard to be the best angel that Tara could ever hope for, and I look forward to the days we meet." He said. "Welcome home, Wyetta."