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THE CAVERNS TREMBLED, but Alameth wasn’t certain if he imagined it or not. The mind can play terrible tricks in this void he’d been trapped in—a cursed realm stuck in a maddening, repeating loop. He hoped his tormentors would have grown bored long by now. They didn’t. They continued to help themselves to him. The gashes they gouged into his back, shoulders, and sides soaked his clothes with his energy. They traced their scalpels around the rims of his fake wing armor. They picked. They pried, but still Alameth wouldn’t give up the ‘key’ they coveted. It remained the one thing he could do to retaliate.
Soon, the demons argued amongst themselves and turned their carving knives on each other. That is, until the tunnels shook. Their quarrel ceased into an eerie quiet.
The frigid floor cooled Alameth’s thumping head. Chilled water trickled under his aching torso and kept the numbed parts of himself awake. He thanked the Lord for it. Fading out was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He didn’t know if his altered appearance could be sustained while unconscious, and too much relied on this charade.
Anxious from the minor quake, Yakum pointed and asked the nearest guard, “What was that? Was it Elazar?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” the guard replied. “It sounded like our shields failed.”
“That’s impossible. Find out what’s really going on now! I can’t risk anyone interfering!”
The demon bowed and hurried down the tunnel passage.
“And get him on his knees!” Yakum ordered.
A pitiful cry escaped Alameth’s lips as they jerked him up. His stone-heavy head hung.
Yakum’s spit speckled Alameth’s neck as he spoke. “I grow tired of your stubborn silence, Jediah.” He clamped a batch of Alameth’s hair and shook him. “I’ve risked too much for you to deny me ultimate power now. Give me the key!”
A harsher shaking crackled Alameth’s cramping neck. His vision darkened.
***
Nechum led Jediah, Eran, and Laszio through the underground. The winding tunnels were abundant, but his empathic sense stayed locked onto Alameth. The concentration of pain he felt from his brother mounted to the point where even he began to share in it.
***
Yakum lifted Alameth by the scruff of his neck. “Last chance, Jediah. Unfurl your wings.”
Alameth took as deep a breath as his sore chest could.
Yakum’s scowl subsided into indignant resignation. “Fine,” he said. “Suit yourself. Open your wings once you’re good and ready. But I do believe you’ll be ready soon.” Yakum opened a hand, and black mist collected and wound into a sphere. It was a writhing abomination of sputtering oil. Yakum nestled the vile thing in his palm, and Alameth recoiled as he inched it close to his nose.
Alameth squirmed as the pellet’s putrid stench half choked him.
“It’s rather thrilling for me really,” Yakum taunted. “You’re the first angel in centuries I’ve tested a toxin on. So then. How about we see what happens, huh?”
Gathering his courage, Alameth looked Yakum straight in the eye. “This... will not... end well for you.”
“You mean, it won’t end well for you,” Yakum replied. He shoved the virus into Alameth’s head and dropped him.
Alameth fell headfirst. Cold, sapping, killing cold, squeezed his head. A thousand thorns seemed to burrow themselves inside. Screams roared out of him he did not recognize. His legs kicked in seizures. His cuffed hands tore at their chains, desperate to break free and claw the thing out of his forehead, but the infection spread, creeping down his neck. He thrashed around as it consumed his chest and back. The quivering in his limbs wouldn’t stop.
The world around him mutated.
Alameth blinked hard.
Stalactites and stalagmites became teeth. The cave’s natural moisture turned to saliva.
Realizing he was hallucinating, Alameth twisted his neck back and forth. It’s not real. It’s not real! His attempts to shake off the madness failed. For the new visions replacing the old were twice as awful, yet the most frightening development was the ensuing dementia that thwarted his attempts to pray. He’d forget his words before they started.
Soon, his inner voice quieted altogether.
Alameth had forgotten why he was even there.
A sudden spark of remembrance broke through him, and Alameth fell into a panic. He was degrading, exactly like they wanted him to. The shame and horror of it shattered him. He hollered between gasps against both the toxin and Yakum, its maker.
Alameth raised a knee, but his leg couldn’t bear his weight. He flopped to the floor, suddenly numb. He wanted to lift an arm. It wouldn’t move. He tried to lift his head. It did nothing, and the all consuming paralysis soon trapped him inside his own growing insanity.
***
An awful screech echoed, and a prickling chill in Jediah’s entire being froze him and everyone else in place. It seemed to last forever. Then a cacophony of ongoing cries and shrieks drowned out the first. The angels ducked their heads and clamped their ears after the first minute, just to get some relief from the racket. Then they stopped.
Laszio spun on his heel. “What was that?
A small rumble in the caverns grew into a quake. Crags cracked opened along the ceiling. Stones clattered and grounded into grime as entire sections of rock inched out of place in enormous blocks.
“Move!” Jediah shouted, as the first boulders thundered into a full-scale cave in. The avalanche chased them for several feet before settling.
Laszio stared back at the upturned earth. “What in the name of sense is Yakum trying to do?”
A pair of red eyes just behind caught Jediah’s attention. He spun around. His blade rang out of the scabbard and slashed a black tendril. The severed chunk dissipated. “Yakum!”
The towering demon, dressed in ornamented robes, phased through the ground to float above. “Lost something, Captain? You are the real Captain, right?” Yakum queried.
Jediah’s quills bristled and sharpened. “Where’s Alameth?” he demanded.
Yakum narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “He’s entertaining my troops, of course. You did what you wanted with my informant, Malkior. I consider the loss of one of yours as restitution. An angel for a demon. It’s only fair.”
“You’re sick,” Laszio interjected.
“I’m sorry,” Yakum growled. “I didn’t know you didn’t know I wasn’t talking to you.” Their surroundings shook again. “You hear that, Captain?” the demon asked. “My troops are having a wild time with your little actor. But you can end it. Grant me the key. I’ll call them off, and you get to take your body double home.”
Jediah poised his sword with its blade close to his cheek. “I won’t dishonor our brother’s sacrifice by bending to you. I’m completing my mission, and you’re going where you belong.”
Yakum’s eyes sizzled red. A mass of black amassed, and it poured out before him.
Acting fast, Jediah swept a wing behind him. The angled light knocked the other angels out of range before the dark fog could hem them in. “Find Alameth! Leave Yakum to me!” Jediah commanded.
The last spaces of air were pinched closed between himself and his muffled brothers’ protests.
Jediah armored himself. “Yakum! The Lord rightly demands your freedom from you this day.” He lit his sword. “You shall answer to Him for preying upon Adam’s race and for desecrating our brothers.” Wings bright and intense, Jediah torched the surrounding floor, and Yakum blinked against the sudden light.
***
With his senses still linked to Alameth’s, Nechum continued to lead Laszio and Eran, but the closer they got to Alameth, the worse he felt. His heart had caught Alameth’s malaise. It wearied him like a decomposing illness was eating him alive. After a while, Nechum stopped in his tracks as a draining sensation ran him through.
Laszio and Eran halted mid-sprint. “Okay, Nechum. Which way?” Laszio asked.
Nechum pointed left, but did so with hesitation. Something hollered at him, warning him not to take them any further.
“What’s wrong?” asked Eran.
Stalled in his words, Nechum couldn’t say anything. He felt like someone tore out his spirit and replaced it with a soulless doll.
Impatient, Laszio charged ahead. “There’s no time,” he said. “Alameth is—whoa!” His foot slipped out from under him, and he fell into something damp. A smelly, red puss coated his legs, a product of which Nechum dared not think.
“What the?” Laszio wiped it off in disgust.
Alarmed, Eran raised his wings in defense. He searched their surroundings, but the large cave seemed vacant. “Where is everyone?” he wondered aloud.
Bending over the goo, Nechum picked some of it up in his fingers. It felt warm. Shivering, he turned to see more red pools, and all color fled from his face. “U-um, brothers?” he began, but his next words froze on his tongue. Just above him, two demons hung from the ceiling with stalactites punctured through their chests and their lower halves melted off like wax.
Eran gaped at the sight of them. “W-what happened here?”
“I found him!” Laszio cried. Nechum and Eran watched him sprint to a lump that could have easily been mistaken for a grey rock. He slid to his knees beside the still form. “Alameth?” He rubbed his back. “Alameth, it’s us.” He leaned over him to see his face, but then recoiled, falling backwards in shock.
“Laszio! What is it?” Eran asked as he brandished his sticks.
Nechum shrank back. Grey mists raised a cuffed and chained Alameth up. It animated him like a puppet with its strings cut; his movements awkward and uncanny, but Nechum’s heart dropped the farthest once he saw Alameth’s eyes. They were neither green nor energized in white. They were black. Dead. Without sign of thought or conscience—demonized.
Laszio, who laid before him, fumbled to drag himself away. He called Alameth’s name, but his voice hitched.
More fog loomed over Laszio at Alameth’s bidding and splintered into a million needles.
Struggling against his own terror, Nechum stepped forward and offered an open hand. “Alameth, please. We know you. You wouldn’t willfully attack your brothers.”
Alameth looked at Nechum, but his fog lowered over Laszio.
“Alameth, stop,” Nechum pleaded.
Suddenly, Eran, who had crept up from behind, rushed Alameth and pulled him away from Laszio.
“Eran, don’t!” Nechum yelled. “You’ll make things worse!”
Alameth slipped right out of Eran’s arms, and his mist punched him right off his feet. Laszio intercepted Eran in midair. The two tumbled, then scrambled to escape Alameth’s follow-up strikes.
An explosion of destructive cloud ravaged the cavern. Their grey plumes turned black and shrouded Alameth entirely. Blinded, the three angels huddled together behind a stone. Nechum crumbled. This was the worst nightmare he could have possibly imagined. Peeking toward the others, Nechum watched Laszio’s fearful expression harden. His eyes turned pointed and set, as he pulled out his weapons.
“What are you doing?” Eran hollered in the tumult.
“What’s it look like?” Laszio said as he harnessed a sphere. “I’m taking him down.”
Eran shook his head and objected, “He’s our brother, Laszio!”
“No, he’s not!” Laszio argued. “This can’t be Alameth!” He gestured to the swirling chaos around them. “Would Alameth act this way? Yakum isn’t the only demon of death, Eran! I won’t let this imposter disgrace our brother’s image like this!”
Nechum pressed his hands against his temples. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing or how this nightmare managed to become so much worse. His brothers were on the brink of attacking one another. Hoping to prevent conflict, Nechum started to speak, but before he could get a word in, smoke grabbed him. Laszio and Eran yelled his name as it then chucked him down the exit corridor. Knees torn and rubbing a sore arm, Nechum stared into the impenetrable fog that blocked the path inside.
***
Jediah battled a maelstrom of black as Yakum lingered on high, content to let his fog fight for him. Two, three, sometimes four mist prongs tried to spear Jediah, but his practiced sword arm slashed every one of them with pinpoint precision and accuracy. Unfortunately, for very tendril he spliced, another two replaced it.
One arm from the black mist stole Jediah’s sword from behind, but Jediah clapped his wings, destroying the thieving appendage. He caught the falling blade, then plunged it into the floor. The flames that graced the sword’s edges soaked into the ground and erupted into a towering ring of holy fire that consumed the black and extinguished it all in a puff of white. The inferno even reached the ceiling where Yakum spectated.
Yakum discarded his singed robe in annoyance.
Jediah’s grip tightened on the hilt as he pulled his sword out of the ground. The steel steamed as it cooled, but before Jediah could charge Yakum, fresh mist flooded the floor. Its grainy particles ensnared Jediah’s feet like tar and glued him down. It climbed his legs. Countless more strands whipped up to entangle him, but Jediah instinctively armored his wings before they could reach them.
Yakum descended as he spoke. “Impressive but not near impressive enough.” He squinted. “Is that why you sent another in your place? Because you knew you’re too weak to challenge me?”
Jediah lurched at him.
Yakum grinned. “Tell me. How long did it take to coach your imitator? Do your screams sound the same? Do you taste the same?” He licked his teeth, and Jediah didn’t miss the gold specks between each tooth. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Resisting the prodding mist, Jediah grunted. He had one shot to break free. He put all focus on the topmost quills that plated his collar. They glowed, bent at the tips, and shot Yakum square in the eyes.
With their master blinded, the darkness loosed. Jediah soared upward. Wrapping a wing over the sword hilt, Jediah channeled energy through his feathers and out the smooth metal strips. Floodlights swallowed the room in a complete whiteout.
The light dimmed into a lingering residue. Seeing Yakum sprawled on the floor, Jediah summoned the chains. This was it. Mission complete.
He swung. The chain arched as it whipped. Jediah tugged. The links strapped and tightened, but to his shock, Yakum wasn’t ensnared. Black mist had snatched the opposite end.
Yakum opened his eyes of smoking red, and before Jediah could let go, the fog yanked him forward into a black pike. Jediah let out a ripping scream as his exposed left shoulder sank deep into its point.
Yakum approached with his hands behind his back. “Whoops,” he crooned. “I missed.” By mental command, he tipped the pike vertically, suspending Jediah like forked meat.
Jediah wriggled as he slid further down the shaft. Gold dripped out of him and smeared his hands, but to his greater terror, his vision warbled and narrowed. Examining the wound where he was skewered, Jediah watched black specks seep from the pike. They infected the wound and dyed his bleeding energy a shade darker.
***
Alameth wielded fog at the monster charging him, but the slobbering beast ducked and grabbed the chain that was still cuffed to his wrists. Alameth winced. The motion nearly yanked his arms out. The creature then called to its twin in a hideous, garbled speech that sounded wet and gluttonous. A white fireball grazed Alameth’s shoulder seconds before the second monster launched itself into his side. Alameth hollered as they dragged him down. They’ve imprisoned me! Beaten me! Tortured me! What more could they want from me?!?
Enraged and desperate, Alameth poured more mist from his robes and smothered both beasts. The creatures tried to pull away, but Alameth willed his fog to throw the creatures to the ground and consume them whole. His mist’s acidic stings leaked into their eyes and swarmed their mouths like bullet ants at the feast. He dared not let them go. Even as they wriggled like bugs being squashed under a slow, descending boot, he felt no pity.
One of them raised a claw for him. Alameth’s chest squeezed itself in tighter. He locked his jaw. His breathes hastened and heated, and he doubled his efforts to annihilate them.
The monsters stilled. Victory came near, but then something changed. Alameth saw their drooling maws slip off their faces like masks, only to reveal his own face underneath. Gasping, Alameth stumbled backwards. Broken slabs cut his elbows, but that was nothing compared to the scathing glares coming from his own mirrored images.
Alameth’s throat tightened. He lifted to his knees. These monsters were him, or maybe that’s precisely what he was fast becoming. Scared, Alameth drew his arms in. What was this vision?
No sooner did he ask than a voice, as still and small as a whisper, replied from the recesses of his subconscious. It didn’t sound like his own, but was more than familiar.
El Shaddai?
The name came to Alameth out of the blue. He didn’t know from where or why, but it felt... right.
“I—,” Alameth muttered. He didn’t know what compelled him to answer.
The voice beckoned to him again, calling him from the pit he had fallen into.
A recognition of what he had done and what he was about to do rushed through Alameth’s core. “I—I won’t become them,” he whispered. Lifting his face toward the heavens, his voice raised, firm and decided. “I won’t be like them, Yahweh!” With that—aching, delirious, and broken—he settled himself into a divine peace he long missed.
***
Jediah’s neck drooped as he panted against an increasing chill. Two hellish eyes, Yakum’s eyes, filled his tunneling consciousness. He couldn’t hear the demon’s garbled scoffs, but he realized one thing: He was close enough.
Jediah kneed Yakum in the chin. Yakum fumbled and grabbed the pike for support, and seizing his chance, Jediah swatted with his razored wing. He pierced Yakum deep with sharp quills. Energy coursed hot through Jediah’s feathers and ignited Yakum’s side.
The demon screamed. After shearing himself away, he hunched over the spear. His smoldering side gleamed yellow as though dipped in molten ore.
With Yakum decommissioned, Jediah clenched his teeth and tore the spear up and out of his shoulder. He dropped, summoned the chains, and ensnared Yakum by the neck before they both thudded to the floor.
They laid silent.
Agony pulsed through Jediah’s ruined shoulder and squelched all desires to move, but he knew move he must. His unfurling wings struggled to spread underneath him. The tips touched, and Yakum glowed beside him.
“Yakum,” Jediah said. “On behalf of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, I cast you into the void for your atrocities committed against the great I AM, His people, and His servants.”
Yakum’s lower legs fizzled. In seconds, chains clattered through the newly emptied air.
Curling in on his side, Jediah trembled, knowing he’d collapse if he tried to get up. As his hand covered his bleeding shoulder, his conflicting feelings collided. He did as God asked. He accomplished what He sent him out to do.
So why can’t I rest?
***
Staring out into the whirling storm he created, Alameth spotted a figure covered in translucent armor. It broke through the grey curtain. Mist streamed in creamy ribbons around the figure’s shin guards and arm braces. Wind batted his loose clothes.
Too tired to fight and unwilling to revert to his former rage, Alameth bowed his head and scrunched his eyes closed. “Be still,” he told himself. “Be still and know that He is God.”
The stranger’s padding feet stopped. Two hands touched Alameth’s shoulders. He flinched, but the fingers weren’t taloned or calloused. The hands were smooth and tender, soft as rose petals. They stroked soothing circles.
Then the stranger spoke in a gentle timbre he knew oh so well. “I know, brother... I know.”
Memory dawned.
Nechum?
Alameth let the last of his mist slip into nothing. Lightheadedness took over. He swayed, but a pair of arms enveloped him and drew him close.