Azazel roared a battle cry, raising his sword in challenge.  Mara answered with a roar of her own, it carried with it all the pent-up hatred she had borne for him for all these years.  The demons in the sky above screamed in a horrific dissonance of guttural and snarling voices, drowning out all sound as Azazel leapt forward to cross blades with the young angel before him.  Despite the tremendous tumult of the demonic symphony above, the sound and fury of their duel resounded like thunder, and it seemed as if the very ground shook with each blow.  With every second the demons above grew inevitably closer, descending upon them with terrifying speed.

            Ethan, defenceless, a mortal man amongst supernatural powers, saw that his death approached, saw that Mara had little chance of survival, saw that the powers of darkness were arrayed to prevent them from ever achieving their destiny.  He saw no course of action, save one.  He knelt in the snow, clasping his hands together and he prayed.  He prayed silently and with fervour, and felt the wind at his back push him to the ground.  The wind came from countless demonic wings flapping up a storm as they descended like a whirlwind to tear him to pieces.  Just as the front lines were a breath away from reaching him, just as Azazel knocked Mara to the earth with a grunt and prepared to deliver a killing blow, just as all hope seemed lost, Ethan uttered a single word, and in that word changed everything.

            He said “Amen” and finished his prayer.

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