In the space between everything, Angel shuddered. Xe’d delivered Quin to the angel Murmuration as Lena had asked. Had xe done the right thing? Quin had been suffering, in pain. If xe’d acted sooner, if xe hadn’t been afraid, could xe have stopped the Sisters before Quin Drowned?
It was xyr fault.
But the angel. The angel...
Xe’d never known one of xyr own kind so full of jagged edges. So full of hurt. Xe’d only brushed up against him briefly, accidentally, and it had been like scraping the rawest and most vulnerable parts of xemself against shattered glass.
Mouths. Murmuration looked like something human, if uncanny in his appearance, but beneath his skin, all Angel had seen was mouths, razor teeth, endless hunger.
Xe’d seen the broken places, too. The edges where the angel no longer fit together as a whole, where he’d been changed.
Angel had also changed. Even now, xe felt the subtle tug of divinity, like splinters left beneath xyr skin. Translucent fish swam between xyr ribs, nibbled at xyr flesh – even when xe did not have flesh. It would be too easy to break along the seams the Drowned God had left behind.
What if xe couldn’t stop changing?
What if xe couldn’t help but fall?
What if xe became a hungry thing like Murmuration, all jagged edges and mouths?
If Lena had not simply asked, but prayed; if Quin had asked himself, could Angel have eaten his memories? Would xe have been compelled? Even before that, in the cave, xe could have acted without compulsion, without prayer, if xe hadn’t been so afraid. Xyr fear had earned them nothing: Quin had suffered, and the Drowned God had made a home in Angel’s bones all the same.
If xe’d chosen to fall on xyr own terms, would it have been better?
Angel wondered – once upon a time, had Murmuration seen Quin’s hurt and sought to soothe it? Or had Quin prayed, leaving Murmuration no choice but to answer? Xe’d heard Murmuration mourn in the moment Quin started to Drown. Xe’d felt it spread all across the firmament, shaking the very foundation of Heaven.
An angel could be a terrible thing, but so could a human, sometimes without even trying.
Hunger could cause an angel to fall, but so could love, and that was possibly the more terrible of the two.
If xe fell, would it be for hunger, or love?
Angel curled closer upon xemself, listening to the stars chime, trying to let their light bathe and soothe xem. But building somewhere in xyr core, xe felt a scream.
Xe let the light pull xem apart, becoming sound, becoming the ringing of bells, the chiming of gongs, the sound of fire upon the deep.
Angel gasped, a ragged noise without lungs, and the shuddering went on and on through xyr body, curling close, curling closer, a black hole collapsing inward, a dense star gathering mass before exploding to birth something new.
In the heart of that star, xe forgot to be anything but fear. In the next shuddering breath, xe recalled that Scribe IV had stayed with xem. When xe’d shrunk back into xemself after being a god, Scribe IV hadn’t looked on xem with disgust or fear.
Love could save an angel, too.
Xe’d never been anything but Angel before, utterly xemself, with no need for any other name. Now xe’d changed, but that didn’t mean Angel couldn’t remain xemself. The offer xe’d made to Scribe IV held for Angel as well. Xe could choose what xe wanted to be.
The chiming bells stilled, the echoing gongs fading so only the soft melody of the stars remained. Light bathed xem. Angel slowly drifted back into xemself, pulled inward, gathering the pieces of xyr being into something new – a shape like a prayer, smelling of warm wax and honey. Not a school of fish, but a hive, the hum of wings reminding xem that xe was not alone – not if xe didn’t want to be.
Scribe IV was only ever a breath away. He had saved Angel, even if he didn’t realize it. Scribe IV was xyr friend.
The last fragments of Angel settled together, the tension and fear unwinding from xem. Xe would return to the Bastion, to Scribe IV, and find a way to thank him.