The light was blinding.
My mind desperately sought for an explanation, but there was none to give.
I wondered for a moment if I was dead. Had Azazel killed me? Did I fail the prophecy and doom mankind?
There were shouts in the background. I couldn’t make out the words, but it became clear that I wasn’t alone.
The light began to fade back into the darkness, and I found myself tangled in Dorian’s arms. I was back to my usual height, and the light emanating from my body had dissipated. My thoughts were jumbled as I tried to remember what happened.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Dorian replied. “Azazel had you and was ready to take your head when Sam walked out of the tree line and demanded Azazel set you free. He laughed and started to bring the sword down, and then BAM! There was an explosion of light.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, sitting up. The glow from Azazel was still clear, but he had company whose light shone even brighter. “Who is that?” I asked.
“I think it’s Sam.”
“That’s not Sam,” I said mockingly.
“I’m telling you. One minute Sam was standing there, and the next a Watcher was standing in his place.”
The stranger stood just a few yards away from Azazel, towering over our enemy. His size struck me, telling me he must have been someone of great importance within the hierarchy of Heaven. He stood at least three feet above Azazel, and the radiant light that shone from the Watcher was whiter and softer than the glow that came from his adversary.
The Watcher’s robes appeared to be dark blue, and his chest was adorned with a silver breast plate. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were blue and almost seemed to shine, reflecting the light that gleamed off the broadsword he held, the point of which was aimed directly at Azazel’s chest.
In an instant, I understood everything. Who Sam had been all along, where he’d come from, and why he’d joined our merry band of misfits. He was a Watcher, disguising himself to keep me safe and to help me fulfill the prophecy.
My father.
“Sam,” I whispered to myself. “It’s you.”
I was sure I saw his eyes flutter in my direction for an instant, but he had other things to take care of first.
“Raphael. Have you come to join us in freeing your brothers?” Azazel asked through clenched teeth. It was clear he already knew the answer.
“No. I’ve come to ensure you join them. I will not fail my God again,” Raphael replied.
I scoured my surroundings and realized Azazel had inadvertently dropped, or been forced to drop, my sword to the ground below. It had landed several feet from where the Watchers stood. I’d been weakened by the entire experience, so Dorian crawled over to my prized possession and retrieved it. He handed it to me, and I grasped the hilt tightly in my hand.
My body tingled at its touch. Just holding it again seemed to give me a power surge, and I felt myself gaining strength once more.
In one swift movement, Azazel pulled his own broadsword from his sheath, and the Watchers began to battle one another to the death. When their swords collided, the ground shook violently. But Raphael had the clear advantage. He was far stronger and faster than his enemy, and it wasn’t long until Raphael had backed Azazel into a large rock wall.
I saw my chance and soared silently into the air. No one witnessed me disappearing into the night except for Dorian, who quietly pondered what my plan was—I heard him in my head, but I simply told him he needed to trust me.
My feet landed on the ledge of a large formation not far from the Watcher battle. I gripped the hilt of my sword and felt the energy returning to my body.
And then, I waited.
I had unfinished business to attend to.
I watched and waited for an opportunity.
Azazel spread his wings and hurdled himself into the air. But Raphael had already anticipated that his enemy would make a break for it and matched his leap, releasing his wings behind him and cutting Azazel off. They became entangled, wrestling in the air, finding themselves above the Fallen’s final resting place.
“Be ready,” I heard Raphael say telepathically. I honed in on his face, and in the melée, I saw him gesture below with his eyes.
Suddenly, I understood.
Raphael managed to knock Azazel’s broadsword from his grasp and seized the Fallen’s leader by the throat with both hands. Azazel clawed at the fingers wrapped round his neck in an attempt to pry himself free.
But it was too late.
“Now, Skyy!” Raphael shouted.
I sprinted toward the edge of the burial site and leapt into the air toward the Fallen’s leader, and for a brief moment, Azazel’s gaze met mine.
Fear had replaced his arrogance.
In one swift movement, his wings had been sliced off and fell into the dark void below.
Raphael released his grasp on his foe’s throat.
Raphael and I hovered above and watched the once-mighty Watcher fall into the portal below.
I flew to the center of the void and thrust my sword into the invisible force field that had kept the Fallen trapped for millennia.
The earth shook again, even harder than before.
Hybrids were tossed about. Rocks bounced. Trees fell.
Raphael and I were caught up in a cyclonic-force wind that threw us to the ground.
Dirt kicked up, making it difficult to see. I crawled around until I located Dorian, who was curled up on the ground trying to protect himself from the sudden catastrophe. I wrapped my wings around us, and we waited out the storm.
A few more moments passed, and then we were left with nothing but silence.
Cautiously, we peered out from under my wings, ensuring the coast was clear.
The burial site was again filled with dirt. My sword stood upright, its point plunged deep into the ground. Realization set in. My sword had not only been capable of opening the ancient underground prison, it was also able to close it.
I stood at the edge of the site and gazed out at my handiwork. It was over. I tentatively walked to the center of the site and grasped the hilt.
I yanked my sword from the ground, held it above my head, and screamed.
The Hybrids of Shamsiel screamed back in victory while Azazel’s army knelt in defeat. They would be taken as prisoner. From there, I didn’t know what would happen to them. Nor did I care.
My job, my destiny, had been fulfilled.
Raja and Azazel had been defeated. The Fallen had remained buried. And I had survived.
“Skyy.” Dorian stood behind me. I turned to face him.
His hands were instantly on my face, brushing the dirt from my cheeks.
“You did it,” he murmured. “I always knew you’d find the strength. I never doubted you.”
“I had help,” I replied, a faint smile spreading across my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. He held me tight, but my stare was on Raphael, on Sam—my father.
He winked, opened his wings, and flew off. I watched him until he disappeared through the clouds.
I knew then my questions would probably forever go unanswered.