In a previous era, I would have been burned for Heresy

Oh, the writing ideas I get while listening to symphonic death metal...

Arch Angel, Dark Angel lend me thy light;
Through death's veil 'till we have Heaven in sight.

The icy wind ripped at his dark and sodden clothes. The dark angel beat his black wings furously, trying to fly further and faster than he ever dared. He's head of the pack, a group of winged beings behind him, each straining to keep up. They had to be fast. They had to be swift. The cold cut through their skin like a blade. While they sneered at their opponents amongst themselves, there was no denying their battle skill.

Arch Angel, Dark Angel lend me thy light;
Through death's veil 'till we have Heaven in sight.

He squinted at the clouds, scanning them for any sign of movement. He bares his fingers like claws. Then, a sickening crunch and a sear of pain, they became claws. The razor-like points tore away the flesh of the human shaped fingers. He smiles, Ahh, the pain of that torn flesh; ecstasy! But he mustn't be distracted: God's little tin soldiers will be here soon.

Arch Angel, Dark Angel lend me thy light!
Through death's veil 'till we have Heaven in sight!

One of his own had creeped to the head of the pack. His appearance was youthful, the enormous black wings dwarfed his sticklike body. His simple clothing hung from him loosely, billowing in the force of the wind. The head dark angel considered him for a moment, tearing his eyes away from the clouds. Then, a white blur enveloped the youthful creature.

He seemed to hang there for moment, as if nothing had happened. An expression of shock broke over his narrowed face. The severed arms and wings began to slowly fall behind him. His erect body crumpled and fell with a shocking new speed.

ARCH Angel, DARK Angel lend me thy light!
Through death's veil 'till we have Heaven in SIGHT!

The leader of the pack turned to face the clouds once more, but it was already too late. There was a tiny white speck amongst the clouds, indistinct, almost as if he had imagined it. In a blink, the speck enlarged to the shape of a winged being. The white feathers were difficult to make out against the clouds. The sword he carried seemed to glow with the light around it.

Then it was gone. Pain erupted from the torn sockets of his wings and arms. He was falling. He summoned his powers to regrow the severed limbs. The icy wind that tore through him was matched only by the searing pain left by Gabirel's sword. Blood spattered from the cleaved joints.

ARCH ANGEL, DARK ANGEL lend me they LIGHT!
Though death's veil 'till WE HAVE HEAVEN IN SIGHT!

Below, the elders ceased their mantra. They know they had lost.