This masterpiece was done by the amazing   TheBigSlick
Great artist to work with and simply stunning art.

The jackal falling from heaven is mine.

-The inspiration. A tiny short I just jotted down before making the commission, -

“I have a task for you.”
“Father?”
“It may be the most difficult task I have ever bestowed.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to become a fallen.”
“But father. Lucifer appears to be on his way to become fallen.”
“That is why I want you to become a fallen. To outshine Lucifer even when fallen. Make his cause yours and you will lead the way.”
“But father… I can not bear to hear the words he speaks. How could I ever bare speaking them myself?”
“You must, Azazel. I need you to do this.”
“I can’t. I will cast myself into hell before I speak like him. To say those things. About me. About you. I cannot.”
“That is why you must. Why I ask you, of all in heaven.”
“But father… I can never come home… Do you wish me gone?”
“Never, have I wished you gone. It breaks my heart to ask this of you. You are the only one that can complete this task. The only one who can save them.”
“Save them?”
“Yes Azazel. You are the only one who can save, your brothers and sisters after they have fallen.”
“Once they are all forgiven. Can I come home?”
“They can not all be forgiven. Nor would you be able to come home.”
“…”
“I am pleading, Azazel. Please. You must rule hell. You will not be a tyrant. You will be just. Otherwise Hell will become something no angel can even begin to imagine. You will save the fallen in time. You will be fair to souls.”
And it was in these words. His father. The father of all, was pleading with him. Begging him to accept this task. It was then, the angel would do as was asked of him. To become a shadow of what he was in heaven. Take the lead of this growing little rebellion. Outshine, his brother, Lucifer.
Though as time had proven. Lucifer’s name was certainly not forgotten. If for no other reason than he was the first to whisper the blasphemous words that would later be the spark that shook Heaven.
The mere mention of Azazel, goes unnoticed. For mortals anyway. But for the heavens and hell, all told stories. His name could silence a room or make demons sweat. He had spearheaded the entire rebellion after emerging as louder than Lucifer. The Jackal did not let anger drive him, as it had his brother. All who listened witnessed how precise and calculated his was. He had a plan rather than acting like a mob of angry farmers attempting to storm a fortified castle. Azazel, led an army. And he would be the last to fall.
His name, was the name that could command all attention in the universe. To younger angels and newly arrived souls in hell. He was a legend. A myth almost. The only creature to stand against the father… And stories say. He nearly won.
Angels say, he was the last to fall. That the greatest of angels had won in their final duel with Azazel and managed to cast him from heaven. Believing he deserved a greater punishment than death. Eternity in hell disgraced. As the folktales went.
Some whisper that only when the greatest angels, Michael, Gabriel and Uriel, laid at his feet, defeated, would he fall. It is said it was at the hands of the father himself. That he, creator of the universe would at last intervene to cast Azazel from heaven. Otherwise, who else could it have done it when all others had been defeated and Azazel stood alone. And for a few precious moments, He was God.
A heavenly creature, who was once loved by all. Turned a small rebellion into a civil war. The death toll seemed as though it was all of heaven. The number of fallen unfathomable. When Azazel stood as ruler of the universe in those moments, there was almost no one left in heaven to rule. When the jackal stood in a silent city of heaven, surrounded by death and destruction with only the crackling flames of war the drown out the silence. The occasional groans of the dying or defeated angels lining the streets.
It was then, when all hope was lost that Azazel, would fall. Starring at the sky, with his spear in hand, atop the throne. Blood drying on his hands and a smirk upon his lips. He would just fall back as though lulled by the father to fall from heaven. Without a fight, without a word. The jackal would spread his arms and fall.