| |
––––––––
MITA huddled in the back of her cell, barely lucid. The Healers would come in another few hours and force more of the putrid liquid down her throat. She couldn’t remember how much time had passed. Days? Weeks? It all ran together now.
She tried again to reach her demon, but the drugs seemed to interfere. She scratched the burned skin of her forehead around the fresh tattoo, fruitless efforts.
A jarring rattle against the prison bars forced her to sway her head over her shoulder.
“Sweeeeeet Mita... That’s what he calls you,” said a girl’s voice. Mita strained and could hardly see a thing. The poison and lack of nourishment had rendered her vision useless.
“Who...” Mita tried to form the word as her cracked lips puckered. The effort came as a long drawl with expelled air. But the girl understood.
“I’m your ally, sweet Mita. Come to me. Come.” The voice was cynical and high-pitched. But Mita trusted her. She said the words that only he would know. Mita jerked her arm and flopped over on her side.
“Yes, yes, that’s it! Come closer.”
Mita took the one arm that seemed to function and dragged herself across the grainy floor. The pit of her chamber was covered in sand, a countermeasure to her excrement. When she was herself again...
Mita reached the bars and grasped her working hand onto them. Her other arm hung limp and useless over her chest.
The girl reached in-between the bars and lifted a small vial to Mita’s mouth. It didn’t smell sour like the Healer’s tonics, but sweet. Mita greedily drank the offering.
“Yes, sweet Mita. This will take time to have an effect, but it’ll repel the poisons they feed you. You will gain new strength. Then, you come to us. Yes. Come to us.”
Mita blinked her watering eyes at the girl. Faint lucidity was returning to her vision and she could make out the frail form guised in silk robes with a pink sash.
“You... Who...” Mita strained to say.
“I’m one of many who worship our clan master.” The girl reached into the cell and stroked Mita’s face. The tiny silver bells at her wrists had blood on them.
Mita almost purred as the girl’s hand swept down her cheek. It was the first kind touch she’d felt since being banished here.
“You have joined a powerful master. He claims humans, and occasionally, a Windborn or two. But Hallowed? You are a treasure, sweet Mita. You mean so much to us. Why did you stay? Why not come to us when the deed had been done?” The girl’s voice was chiding, but soft.
Mita had no words to offer. Instead, a growl rumbled in the base of her throat.
The servant girl laughed. The tones were delicate, but tinged with madness. “You’re angry. You needed to taste the sweetness of your revenge against the Princess. I understand.”
Mita tried to talk, but spittle foamed at her mouth.
The girl shushed her and stroked her cheek, but Mita had one important question.
“Please... His name...”
The girl smiled as Mita struggled to keep her eyes open. “Your demon? He’s called Xorn.”
For the first time, Mita noticed the dark shade that was overtaking her skin. She held her arm up and examined it with effort.
“Your change has begun. They can’t stop it. Come to us when your strength returns, sweet Mita. Complete your transformation.”
A wicked grin spread slowly across Mita’s face.
#
AFTER a month of recuperation, and learning to gain control of her delicate wings, Azrael impatiently waited for Gabriel’s announcement that she was fit to dole out Mita’s judgment. When he entered her chambers grim-faced, she knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.
“Azrael, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he began.
“What kind of bad news?” Azrael inched around in her chair. Her wings were uncooperative and bulged out in every direction. Stress destroyed any tentative control she had over the unruly things.
Gabriel’s jaw clenched before he answered. “Hyanthia has escaped.”
Azrael intended to jump out of her chair, but a wing caught on the edge of the desk and she went sprawling to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and clutched at Gabriel’s robes.
“What? She can’t escape. She murdered them! You promised she would get a just punishment. By me. You promised!”
Delicately, he disengaged Azrael’s clenched fingers from the silk fibers of his robe. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
She snarled and tried to hit him, pound his chest no matter what little damage she could do.
He held her wrists, probably to keep her from hurting herself. “This is Mehmet’s doing,” he said. “This isn’t over.”
Azrael bore her gaze into him. How could he let her escape like this? This is unacceptable! How could he?
“I felt a presence when I was in the halls,” he continued. “And I went as fast as I could to the dungeons. But by the time I got there, she was gone. Luckily, there were no Healers in the room at the time of her escape, or surely they would have been made victims.”
Azrael stared, hardly able to comprehend his words. All she could hear was the one meaning she had left in life had now escaped...all because of him.
“I don’t care about stupid Healers! With their smelly potions and salves. I hope they all die!” Azrael screamed and her voice cracked.
Gabriel let go of her wrists and she began to beat her fists violently against his chest. But her strength was not what it once was, and shortly after she fell against him, soaking his robes with salty tears. Without saying a word he embraced her. His large wings encased her body. Azrael clutched her own wings tightly against her back as rage and grief rolled in great tremors through her body.
Her wings trembled, still twitching as if agitated by her outburst. Gabriel ignored it and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Azrael shivered when he grazed her feathers.
“Gabriel, she killed them,” Azrael pressed. “I have nothing left except my revenge. Nothing at all.”
“They will be avenged, I promised you that. I don’t break my promises.”
Azrael’s tear-streaked face looked up to his. His gaze was distant. Lost in a forgotten time and place. Without thinking, she reached up and stroked a white eyebrow with her thumb until his face softened. She watched him silently, and unspoken they shared a moment of understanding. Her hand fell and she leaned her face against his hard chest.
“What do we do now?” Azrael asked.
His hand stroked her back underneath the roots of her wings. “We’ll leave tomorrow for Celestia. You are skilled enough now to fly. A Windborn girl has been chosen to be the next Terran Queen and will undergo the Acceptance. Another angelic Ambassador has already been chosen to guide her through the process.” Azrael stiffened at the news. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how much you have been through already. But now it’s time for us to move on.”
Numbly, Azrael nodded. He’d never intended for her to take her place as Mistress of Manor Saffron.
An ache throbbed in her chest. She knew deep down that as a Windborn with wings, she couldn’t be exposed to the general public. True reign as Terra’s Queen was impossible. Her rule was now meant for Celestia, and had she not such revenge seated in her heart, it would have been a kingdom far greater than the human’s realm could possibly ever be. And yet, it seemed the one thing she wanted would forever be out of her reach.
Her fists clenched onto his robes with a flash of anger. She made herself relax and buried her face further into the ruffles of the cloth. I trust you, Gabriel.
Azrael wondered if he could read her thoughts, for he stroked her dark hair thoughtfully.
“I’ll be by your side, Azrael. Since the day I met you, it was determined by fate that I would be your protector. And even if I may be a failure in your eyes, I give you everything I have to give.”
His words were delicate and soft. A part of Azrael wanted to hate him. Wasn’t it his fault that Hyanthia had escaped? Hadn’t he been charged with protecting the Queen? Grief choked her throat and she clutched onto him. No matter if she hated him or loved him, he was the only goodness she had left.
After she had managed to regain her composure, Gabriel let her slump onto her chair. Azrael didn’t want to see her reflection and angled herself away from the mirror. She knew her eyes were red and puffy as she placed a hand to her heated cheek. Gabriel offered an encouraging smile as he stroked her arm.
Somberly, she looked up to him. “You have nothing to look so sorry for, Gabriel. I don’t blame you,” she lied. If he was all she had left, she couldn’t push him away.
He nodded. “You’ve been through so much. I wouldn’t blame you if you accused me of neglecting my duties and allowing Hyanthia to escape.” He leaned, drawing her in with the intensity of his gaze. “I do promise you your revenge, Azrael. As much as revenge is considered a sin, there’s a fine line between that and justice. Therefore, I will do all that is in my power to keep my promise to you. We will find her. And justice will be served. But this will come in its own time and place. We must move on, for now, for your own safety.”
Azrael didn’t voice her anger, frustration, and confusion. Instead, she buried her head in her hands and sighed. “I understand.”
“Let us get some sleep then, and rest. For tomorrow will be a difficult journey.” He grinned. “Your first flight.”
Azrael rewarded him with a strained smile and climbed into her bed.
Gabriel ruffled his feathers and snuggled into his chair, his arms folded and his chin rested lightly on his chest. Within moments, Azrael marveled as his breath came slow and deep.
Azrael clenched her fists, empty with nothing but air and her thirst for revenge. Hyanthia had escaped her grasp.
She’s out there... Somewhere. How can I wallow in pity and silk sheets?
She shifted her wings and sighed. She held back a whimper as depression weaved through her body like an unwelcome chill. She needed to get out. Get out of this room. Get out of this cursed Manor. Get away from the steady rhythm of pain and suffering that had become the heartbeat of her home.
I can’t stand one more night in this place.
Azrael pushed herself up and glanced at Gabriel. He seemed in a deeper sleep than usual.
He must be exhausted from flying back and forth to the Council all the time. Good. Let him sleep.
Leaning on the edge of the bed until the tips of her toes rested on the floor, she glanced at Gabriel. He didn’t budge. She swept out of the room.
Azrael’s heart longed for comfort, for something to bring it hope. The gardens had become a place of refuge, and so she went to it without thinking. Scarcely any servants were roaming the halls at this hour, so her passage was unhindered.
Outside, a loving wind kissed her cheek, forcing a light smile on her face. The scents of night-blooming flowers embraced her in the humid darkness. The moon gave light to the silvered paths encircling the grand fountain. The only sound was the water as it kept its never-ending struggle to reach the heavens.
Looking up to the sky, Azrael pondered what star the fountain desperately was trying to reach. Wind caught under her feathers and they fanned out in reaction. A laugh escaped from her throat. She was pleased that control of her wings had progressed so much.
Azrael’s wings shrank and flexed at her back. I’ll be taken away to the Windborn city tomorrow... What if this is my last chance for revenge? No... To serve justice?
Hesitating, Azrael’s wings squished up against her back tightly. She shook her head with defiance.
“I will not confine myself to conformity or propriety,” she announced to the watching flowers and singing water. As if in an encouraging response, a spurt of water lurched to the sky from the fountain. Taking that as a sign, Azrael gave her wings a great plunge toward the ground and was flung into the air.
Azrael suppressed a screech. Her strength surprised her. Flapping her wings with effort, she was lifted further and further into night. Fear stung until she felt the elation of flight. She giggled as the Manor shrank beneath her. Spanning around it, she was greeted by fields of dark green reflecting the silver moonlight.
Keeping in a quick and steady rhythm, Azrael climbed higher into the sky. She spread out her hands and delighted in the new rush of ecstasy. Gabriel had taught her a few things about flight, but it was nearly all theory and practiced moves on the ground. She hadn’t truly gotten to fly yet. But the sensation! It was freedom she’d always craved, the sense of absolute security and bliss. How Meretta would have loved it.
A grin stretched across her face. She was not only free, but safe. What could reach me here? What evil could possibly find me in this beautiful nothingness, this place of joy that surged from my heart and gave my wings flight?
For a short while, Azrael simply enjoyed the new sensations. She let the wind sing its new songs in her ears. On the surface, it was nearly as confined as she. But up here, away from the world and free, Azrael could truly hear its voice. It wove through her hair, sung through her feathers, and soared up with her higher and higher into the clouds.
Curiosity soon made her gaze wander downwards, to places below that she’d never seen. The Manor was nothing but a rose petal with the Inner Sanctum making it glow amid the looming shadows. She searched the land and spotted a span of blue. She squinted at the rippling reflections and realized it was a sea.
I’ve never seen the sea before. Amazing!
Excited with her new find, Azrael’s wings folded against her back. A scream escaped her as she plummeted to the ground. She panicked and snapped out her wings to their full length. Azrael was jerked up and winced from the jolt. But soon the pain abated and she drifted into a smooth glide.
Her descent was less than graceful, to say the least. Azrael alternated in death-gripping falls and zig-zagged glides. After a few cycles, she managed to make an awkward landing close to the water’s edge. She tripped onto the ground and went sprawling. Her hair flung in her face and her wings tingled from the expended effort. Finally calming her frantic heart, Azrael fell silent and listened to a sound she had never heard before, the lapping of waves.
As the wind had sung stories of freedom in her ears, the water had a new story to tell. It was a rhythmic song, telling of the cycles of nature. The waves splashed against the shore playfully as sleepy birds dove into the water in the moonlight horizon for fish. It was miraculous. Azrael could never have imagined such beauty as this moonlit portrait. She took in a deep breath, marveling at the cool, salty air.
Azrael gingerly sat in her new grassy domain, entranced by the scene. For a long while, she let her worries and cares sink away into the sounds of watery foam joining with the soils of the land. The air encircled her like a wonderful dream.
It was an untold peace, until twigs crunched violently behind her.
Azrael spun, but there was nothing there. Crouching low, Azrael studied a strange light in the night’s fog. It grew closer and closer, bobbing like a spirit. The mists parted, revealing a girl with brown curls. Azrael jumped to her feet with a gasp.
Meretta?
Azrael stepped forward, then sucked in a breath and hesitated. The girl was coming closer. She looked as if she was glowing, or did it just seem that way because of the moonlight? The girl was close enough for Azrael to see her face. She had no doubt who was standing before her, possible or not.
“Meretta?” Azrael shouted.
As if the phantom hadn’t realized someone was there, she started and looked at Azrael for a brief moment. Meretta smiled, and then turned and ran.
“Meretta! Wait!” Azrael flung herself forward and tripped. Pulling herself up, she stumbled in desperation after the apparition.
Azrael snapped her wings out and thrust herself into the air, panic aiding her untrained flight. Azrael couldn’t gain altitude, but she found a rhythm between flight and foot. She beat her wings with wide thrusts as she bounced across the grass, barely able to keep up with the running girl.
“Meretta! It’s me!” A gust of wind caught her wing and she went flinging into Meretta. But Meretta vanished and Azrael went rolling into the ground. A sharp stone seared across her rib and Azrael cried out. Falling painfully on her back, Azrael clutched onto her side.
Out of a cloud of mist a crouched silhouette formed. Still gasping for air, Azrael stood alert and watched the unmoving shadow. Oily feathers reflected the moonlight, revealing wide, dark bat wings rimmed with grimy feathers. Talons pierced the sky on the wing’s arches. Even at the tips, the feathers grew together and formed talons of their own. Azrael shivered with terror at the sight.
Underneath those wings, a looming shadow squirmed and drew cold breaths, sucking life out of the very air. Faint laughter gurgled in the creature’s throat.
Azrael had never seen a demon before, and she wasn’t sure what she had imagined, but it was nothing like this. It had lured her with Meretta’s ghost, and now she was trapped.
Azrael shrunk her wings close to her body in horror as the stench of sulfur reached her nostrils. The creature approached, Dark oozed down its white legs, leaving steaming footprints in its path. Its face was hidden, but Azrael could feel it watching her with a crooked smile in the darkness.
Slowly, it unfurled its wings; Azrael trembled as two red eyes appeared in the blackness. She’d expected green, but this was something beyond evil. A strange and disturbing contrast of death and life swirled underneath that gaze. Her skin was pale, as if she had been dead for far too long. Underneath the black unruly hair Azrael saw a creature of nightmares. A she-demon, with facial features of a goddess, and eyes filled with insanity. A gleaming gold tattoo on her forehead blazed, seeming out of place between her beady eyes. The demon wheezed in a giddy laugh at Azrael’s fear, revealing sharp fanged teeth and a slithering tongue. The demon crouched, naked, and without shame. Though sanity seemed to have been lost from her long ago, her head tilted in eerie recognition.
“Alexandria?” she wheezed.
Oh Divine... She thinks I’m Alexandria. Azrael crouched and trembled, too afraid to speak.
Again the demon wheezed a laugh, her tongue licking happily on her blood-red lips. “Do you not remember me, Alexandria? Do you not remember what I did to you?” Suddenly she shrieked at the sky, fanning out her wings with a loud snap. Azrael cowered and fell back onto her feathers, hearing a slight crunch as some of the stems broke. “Do you come back for more? Was one death not satisfying enough?” the she-beast continued.
Trembling on her broken feathers, Azrael whimpered from the fear in her heart and the pain rushing up her wings. The demon slinked toward her, clearly enjoying every moment of Azrael’s terror. She snapped out an arm and clasped her long slender fingers around Azrael’s ankle. Her ice cold skin made Azrael freeze with fear. With a pointed nail, she took her other hand and slowly slit a line up Azrael’s leg, bright red followed in its wake.
Azrael watched as if she were a helpless observer inside her own body, no longer aware of the pain that began to throb.
A strong burn ran up Azrael’s back without warning. As if she shared the sudden pain, the she-demon leapt away, watching Azrael with wide eyes. The pain intensified, and Azrael’s stone position was broken. Azrael fell forward, hearing more crunching from her feathers as she gasped for air. She spread her wings away from her back as far as they would reach. Still, the pain grew as Azrael gasped and groaned.
The she-demon danced on bent legs, shaking her head. Azrael’s lips curved into an unbidden smile before she closed her eyes.
The familiar Light of the heavens that had shone on her sleeping face countless nights in the Manor now beat against her eyelids. She clawed her fingernails into the soft soil and her spine flamed with a pain similar to that which she had only felt under the Hallowed’s needles. Waves of molten fire encircled her body.
In the distance, war trumpets sounded above the clouds. Their long, solid tones brought reassurance to her trembling body.
The she-demon hissed and sputtered. “What are you doing, little angel? What’s this trickery?” she screeched. She lunged as if to choke the life from Azrael right then and there, but was repelled as she hit an invisible barrier. She hissed, clawing at the ground, effectively spraying weeds and soil in all directions.
Rising tones of approaching war-trumpets were now accentuated by male voices. They shouted in anger and cheered with might.
“Remove your filthy claws from our Queen!”
“Step away from the Queen!”
“Be gone, wretched beast!”
Queen? They couldn’t possibly mean me. Could they?
Azrael opened her eyes as the last of her pain finally melted away. She was met with the frightened stare of the she-demon, red eyes seeming suddenly dull as Divine Light shone out of her own.
Azrael flexed the muscles in her wings and found them healed. A warm and comforting sensation spread out from her Acceptance in pulses, like a steady heartbeat. Slowly, she felt a presence gather within herself. Memories that were not her own flooded her mind. Her mouth opened to speak... Yet, she had not commanded it to do so.
“Nethara!” Azrael’s voice boomed with unfamiliar confidence.
The she-demon recoiled within the safety of her own leathery wings with a frightened squeak.
“You think you’re so cunning, so powerful to have slain the almighty Alexandria.” Azrael’s face, unbidden, formed a disappointed scowl. “Yet you came in secret. You came to me in the night with a blessing from your new Lord. The power that caused my death was not your own! You couldn’t even face me on a battlefield. You are a cowardly traitor!”
Light flashed in strength as the intrusive presence within Azrael grew, staring down at the pitiful creature.
Strong wingbeats carried angels on the wind.
“Mehmet will punish you for this,” the she-demon spat. With an angry glare she placed both hands on her chest. Azrael flinched as the she-demon’s nails stabbed into her flesh with an audible snap. As dark blood oozed from her wounds, she thrust out her fingers, causing steaming droplets to spatter on the ground.
“Until we meet again, little angel.” The she-demon cackled and her eyes turned black as she rolled them to the back of her head. A strange deep sound vibrated in her throat. The air shimmered and split. She was gone.
A few moments too late, the army of angels landed with a disoriented pattern with no enemy in which to fight. They turned to Azrael for guidance.
Azrael tried to speak, yet she was not in command of her body. Panic surged as she tried again and again to force her body to move, but it wouldn’t listen.
A blue-eyed angel appeared in the distance, surging through the clouds.
Gabriel.
Spearing to the ground with wings flattened to his back, he snapped them out at the last possible moment. Landing, he approached Azrael with eyes wide. He kept a respectful distance, as if he didn’t believe what he saw. Crystal tears formed and glided down his flawless face.
“Alexandria?” His voice shook as he said the name.
Azrael’s own vision blurred as tears fell from her Divine-lit eyes. “Gabriel...my love. How I have missed you.” Her lips formed unfamiliar shapes as her voice spoke the Windborn tongue. She’d never learned such words, but she knew their meaning.
Gabriel raced to her and they embraced each other in heart-aching passion. Or rather, Gabriel and Alexandria embraced each other. Whose feelings are these? Mine? Hers? Both? Azrael felt sorrow, and relief, and she felt her soul cry along with Alexandria’s.
Carefully, Gabriel undid the tight embrace and gazed unblinking into her eyes, despite the blinding Light. “Alexandria. You can’t stay. You should never have come. You know this.” His hands shook as pain distorted his face as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I can’t do this again.”
Like a puppet, Azrael’s head bobbed as Alexandria nodded with sympathy. “Allow me this, at least.”
With parted lips, Azrael’s body leaned forward. Alexandria’s feelings of pain, love, and longing flooded into Azrael’s soul. And together, they kissed him. A kiss beyond expression, all the love they both had for him expressed itself in that kiss. Gabriel held onto Alexandria tight, or Azrael? She wasn’t sure as he kissed her back with such passion it made Azrael ache.
Azrael’s voice whispered softly in his ear. “I love you.” The Light then faded away, along with the presence that had controlled Azrael’s body.