The Downfall of Man

by J J Marshall

  “Because I’m your guardian,” Orian stated simply.

  “You’re what?” Hanna asked as she backed up towards the wall, trembling from fear or the cold nip of the night air, Orian didn’t know. Her face pulled into a grimace as she shut her eyes in defeat, resting once more against the cool white wall, grasping at her side. “Shaggy-haired blond boy,” she began. Orian chuckled.

  Shaggy-haired blond boy. as if that’s my name.

  “Orian. My name’s Orian,” he corrected her.

  “Orian, then,” she continued. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Orian nodded and crouched down, crossing his legs across one another and began, “I’m an angel, Hanna, more importantly, I’m your guardian.”

  Hanna’s eyes widened, “But angels aren’t real. They’re a thing we learn in Sunday school, wishful thinking, they’re…” she trailed off. Orian smiled, looking at her from under his thick blond hair.

  “We are very real, Hanna, like the air you breathe or the ground you walk on. And right now, we are fighting a war. A war that you will be a part of. Which is why I’m here. You’re my saving grace as much as I am yours.”

  “But angels are immortal, meaning that you can’t die. So, if you can’t die, then how is it that I’m supposed to save you?” she sputtered. Orian let out a subtle, gentle laugh as he moved closer to where Hanna sat, leaning against the wall. He watched as Hanna’s chest heaved, struggling to breathe before she shut her eyes.

  “Every angel has a weakness. It’s what separates us from being gods. Just as humans face death, so do we. Immortality doesn’t truly exist. You can prolong the inevitable, but one day we all will face Death himself.”

  “So, death is your weakness then?” Hanna whispered.

  “No, Hanna,” he began. “You’re my weakness. You will be my downfall.” Silence fell as the words left Orian’s lips and he feared that he had disclosed too much. But better to let her know than to lie in the dark, he thought. Shallow breaths welcomed his ear as Hanna drifted to sleep. He yearned for rest as he closed his eyes as well, but first he would need to summon his white light and assess the damage done to Hanna.

  *

  Orian jolted awake as guilt gripped at his insides. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chastised himself. You were supposed to watch her! You could have killed us both! “Get your shit together!” he muttered under his breath as he listened to Hanna breathing. She hadn’t moved a lick since falling asleep.

  At least she didn’t try to run after I told her everything, or well mostly. He shifted slightly. The room was dark but he didn’t mind as his bright eyes shifted to take in the room around him. His senses heightened, he listened for sounds of unrest outside, moving silently to the window.

  The streets below were dark and nearly empty as Orian took in a few Afflicted stumbling around below. He turned his attention back to Hanna as she moaned quietly in her sleep.

  How has she not turned?

  ******

  Twenty-Two

  Karsten

  Oh shit, fucking fuckballs! This is not good, not good at all, Karsten thought as he ran his fingers through his hair, ripping at the slowly forming snarls. His mind whirled on what to say to his father regarding his brother’s disappearance. Searching, grasping at anything he could think of, he came up empty. He would have to say something. Surely, his father would notice his second son missing, right? Karsten paced in his room, his footsteps crashing down on the floors below, echoed off the walls to the thrum of his thoughts. Clenching his jaw, Karsten gnashed his teeth as he pulled at his untamed locks. His heart sank, what little heart he had left, that is, as his stomach churned. Acid singed its way up his throat, corroding his esophagus, leaving a bitter, unsavory aftertaste in his mouth. He didn’t care.

  Thoughts of his own demise swarmed his mind and he imagined all the colorful ways he could die like choking on his own blood as his father watched. Death was certain if he couldn’t find Orian. Death was always certain when it came to his father.

  I’m going to die. We are going to die. All of this will be for nothing. Everything I have lived for, worked so hard for, will all be for nothing if I’m dead! The familiar sting of tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks as he fought against them. This would be his life now. Fighting, running, from his father, from the Consortium, from the very life he built.

  “You have to stop that blasted pacing,” Henry growled from the bed, tearing Karsten’s attention away from his rampant thoughts. He hadn’t intended to sleep with the general again, but after his brother went rogue, all Karsten could think of were his lasts. When would he die? He didn’t want to die with his balls full, that much he knew. He continued to pace, ignoring Henry’s plea, wearing down the black shag rug on his floor. Anger sparked beneath his skin and white lightning formed at his fingertips. Twirling the electricity from finger to finger, Karsten was deep in thought.

  “Shut up,” Karsten hissed through his teeth. “Keep your filthy mouth silent or I will make you pay dearly!”

  Secretly, Karsten hoped the general would antagonize him. His member leapt at the thought of the general moaning and writhing underneath him. Henry perked up, rolling over with a grin on his face and for a moment Karsten thought he saw a spark of challenge creep into his eyes.

  “I’d watch who you are speaking to with such a tone, Commander,” he crooned.

  Lust boiled in Karsten, hotter than he anticipated, as he walked over towards Hendrix, climbing atop of him. His cock hardened at the sight of the half-naked man beneath him. Leaning down he whispered into the general’s ear. His hands moved quickly, pinning down the warm wrists of his prey, against the soft sheets.

  “I will speak to you however I please. I am your future king. Speak to me out of turn again, and you will pay the price.”

  “Perhaps I would like that,” Henry said, nipping at his lip. Karsten watched that lip, aching to bite it, aching for release as he leaned down, forcing his mouth upon his partner. He parted his lips with fervor, thrusting his tongue into the general’s mouth, pleased when Henry moaned beneath him.

  “If punishment and pain is what you desire, then your wish will be granted…later. And I have just the perfect punishment planned for you. For now, we have things we must tend to.” Slowly, Henry nodded, appearing disappointed as Karsten pushed himself off, righting himself. “Gather Mikasa, we need to lower the veil and head home.”

  “And you’re good leaving without Orian?” Henry asked as he began to filter through his pack on the floor below, pulling out a clean white linen shirt, he pulled it on. Karsten shrugged.

  “No. Yes. I dunno. I guess…” Karsten rambled gripping at his head, he clamped his eyes shut as his mind struggled to accept that Orian was really gone. “Orian made his choice when he ran. I can’t protect him forever. We'll just have to face the consequences of that situation when we get home,” he stated, defeated. That was all they could do now. Karsten wished he was equipped for a retrieval mission, he wished beyond anything they had a Kill Order, but without one, they were in the dark. Acting without a Kill Order from the Council and the king would damn them all, and that was not something Karsten was going to try. If there was even a sliver of hope for survival, he wanted to make sure nothing would compromise that. Karsten sucked in a deep breath trying to control the fire that burned within. Orian was a traitor, not only to the throne and the Midland, but to their family name as well.

  The fire that burned deep within Karsten dimmed as acceptance sank in, suddenly everything became calm, clear almost. He would savor these last few moments before he returned home. His eyes swept over to Henry, taking in his form, his beautiful milky skin, chiseled arms, high cheekbones. He truly is beautiful.

  “Karsten,” Henry interrupted his thoughts, shaking Karsten back into reality. Karsten smiled.

  “Yes?”

  “The veil is open. Mikasa is ready to send us home. Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Henry asked, his eyes wide. Karsten had
seen this look before. Worry. He nodded slowly.

  “Let’s go home,” he breathed, pulling Henry from the bed. Sweat glistened off the general’s chest, beading down his skin as Henry pulled on a light short-sleeved shirt. They were done waiting for the inevitable.

  He was ready to die. The two men, slowly left the general’s room, walking slowly down to the office Mikasa had set up. Once more the scent of cinnamon and cloves greeted their senses like a warm friend, and enveloped them in a sensual hug. The wall before them shimmered, glittering bright colors of pink and white before them.

  “I suppose I will go first,” Henry muttered. Karsten stepped forward, grasping Henry by the arm. Quickly and silently, he pulled the general into an embrace and just held him. His body was warm and hard against Karsten’s as the young prince savored every moment.

  “I think I’m starting to have feelings for you…romantically that is,” he whispered against Henry’s ear watching as Henry pulled away from him, his large eyes staring back into his own.

  “What?” Henry asked, clearly confused and shocked. Karsten nodded slowly pushing his lips against Henry’s.

  Swift. Soft.

  “Let’s go home,” Karsten stated, grasping ahold of the general’s hand. Hand in hand they walked through the veil together.

  ******

  Twenty-Three

  Irisi

  Days had passed since Irisi had seen his sons, sending them through the veil to gather information about the humans. He yearned to see them again or rather, for the information they had gained. He itched to release Virus X and watch as the humans killed each other one by one, while he sat back and watched.

  Yes, he thought. One by one they will all fall, and the Renegades along with them. One by one they will give me the next realm, or bend the knee. The thought brought a smile to his lips. He was giddy. Death always made him happy. He’d nearly skipped to his throne when a knock sounded from the Throne Room door. He frowned, and turning to answer the caller. His brows furrowed as he spotted a female servant, no older than Orian, on the other side, carrying what he could only think, was a message. Irisi sucked in a breath, he had so very much wanted to sit on his throne and ponder the humans dying pleas as he stood over top of them, and clenched his jaw.

  “Your son has arrived home, sire,” she murmured, casting her gaze to the side, never meeting his.

  Son?

  “I believe you meant sons,” he corrected, adjusting his robes anxiously. “Bring them to me.” The girl nodded and quickly ran off, leaving Irisi alone with his devious thoughts. The pitter-patter of her shoes echoed down the halls as Irisi’s anticipation grew. Then the servant’s words played again in his head. Son. Son. One. Why? Why was only one here?

  Blood pounded in Irisi’s ear drums to the beat of his feet against the cool floors. His heart hammered against his rib cage, threatening to fly out of his chest. Moments passed as hushed voices sounded around him. Slowly as the yellow sea of eyes filtered in around his throne. Above sat the Elders. Silent but always watching his every move, Irisi knew he had to tread carefully. The Elders had gotten word of his son’s arrival, likely from a servant and decided today would be the day that they make an appearance. Great. Slowly, Irisi ascended the steps leading to his throne and stopped. He turned and faced the room, addressing them quietly.

  “Where are my sons?” he hissed through gritted teeth. He began to pace and as if on cue, the doors to the Throne Room burst open with Karsten and the general in tow. Irisi’s heart fluttered momentarily and then sputtered. He clenched his jaw tighter, threatening to break his perfect teeth as he spotted their solemn faces. He narrowed his eyes, scanning around for Orian, coming up short. His fingers curled into fists, digging into his milky skin as Irisi thrusted them into his robe pockets. A ball formed in his throat, choking the air from his lungs. His eyes burned and jaw ached as Irisi bit back his emotions. Fear gripped him, and slowly he began to imagine the worse.

  Was he killed or taken?

  “Father,” Karsten greeted, taking a knee as he lowered his eyes from Irisi. Irisi smiled. Good boy, bend your knee and submit to me.

  “Where is Orian? Where is the rest of your team?” To the point. Yes, that was it, he wanted to know the news of his youngest. Where was he?

  Silence.

  “Where is my son, Karsten?” he asked again, his tone sharp, clipped, cold. Dark eyes, rimmed in red looked back at him and for a brief moment the urge to slap the words from Karsten’s lips overcame him. Irisi dug his nails deeper into his flesh, feeling the familiar sting as hot blood saturated his fingers.

  “Orian is gone…” Karsten replied hesitantly.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” Irisi nearly shouted, slamming his balled up, bloodied hand on the throne. His hand stung, but he didn’t care.

  “He ran away. I tried to stop him, but he made his choice, father. He would rather live amongst the humans then be a soldier in the Consortium.”

  “He was your charge!” Irisi bellowed, his voice booming off the Throne Room walls. Hushed whispers filled the silence as the sea of eyes narrowed on the king. “For fuck’s sake, what good are your titles when you both are so obviously useless?” he spat. He could feel his blood boil like lava beneath the surface. Bloodlust enveloped him like a warm hug, washing him like a wave of hate. He basked in the hate. Karsten may be his son, but he was so stupid. How could he lose his brother? Out of all the stupid things he could have done. And that’s when an idea hit him. Orian, that little shit. He’d always known he had a traitorous heart. Kyrina’s heart. His disappearance or even death at the hands of the Renegades would be better than this. He’d raised him in the old ways, and now his son had betrayed him. Fuck…

  “Father—” Karsten began. Irisi held his hand up, cutting his son’s words as if he had cut his cords, choking him in silence.

  “How you two could do something so incredibly stupid when we are at war with multiple enemies, is beyond me. The punishment is death. One of you must die and it will be by the other’s hand.”

  Now they will pay. They will understand that stupid choices have horrific consequences, Irisi thought smirking at his own genius plan. He watched as his shocking words sank into Karsten and the general. Karsten’s dark eyes widened as he looked up to meet the king’s gaze. The Elder’s whispers continued to fill the room as both men stood silently in front of Irisi.

  “Karsten, kill him.”

  His son turned to face the general and stared into Henry’s stoic face. Both remained silent for some time, staring at one another, filling out that space left between them with an unspoken conversation, conveying everything and nothing at the same time. Irisi tapped his blood-soaked fingers on the throne, awaiting an answer. Blue sparks danced around his arms as he grew impatient. Shifting his weight, Irisi stood from his seat. “I fucking said kill him, or I will smite you both myself!”

  “I’m sorry I let you down,” Henry said stepping forward, kneeling before Irisi. His gaze cast low to the ground. “Do as you must for the Midland.”

  “For the Midland!” the Throne Room rang.

  “Father, please, this isn’t right. Not when we are at war. He is our best general. You’re making a mistake,” Karsten protested. Henry never moved a muscle.

  “Silence your mouth before I cut out your tongue. You will not defy me again,” Irisi spat, digging his fingers into his throne. Pain welted in the tips as his fingers grew red, but Irisi ignored the pain. He had other issues to deal with.

  “I submit,” Henry repeated. “Prince Orian was under my charge. I failed him. I failed the king and worse of all I failed the Midland. I will accept my punishment as the king sees fit.”

  “How humble of you, General. Such a pity that I will lose a great general. But stupidity has no place in war or in my kingdom. You will die by my son’s hand. Karsten, kill the traitor,” Irisi commanded. Pleading eyes met Irisi’s as Karsten stood in his place, as still as a statue.

  “Father—” he begg
ed.

  “Now.” Tears fell from Karsten’s eyes as he approached Hendrix. “Get my son a sword. I want the traitor’s head.” A dark, cloaked figure nodded from the king’s side and gathered a sheathed sword handing it to the young prince.

  Unsheathing his katana, Karsten moved towards his target bending low, the king watched as he whispered something into the general’s ear. The general nodded and cast his head down towards the floor. Karsten raised the blade above his head, and swiftly brought it down in one smooth motion.

  Blood sprayed the floor from the general’s corpse as his body fell to the ground. Irisi smirked, content with his red painted steps and rose from his throne. Looking out into the crowd of yellow eyes, he addressed Karsten.

  “Find my son,” he said to Karsten. “And when you find him, bring him back alive. His death is mine.”

  ******

  Twenty-Four

  Kyrina

  Kyrina never anticipated leaving the comfort of her mansion, let alone being out in the field with Jake, but this was an exception. She had to find Orian, as her troops readied themselves for battle against the Midland. She thought it wise to go out with her two strongest fighters flanking her sides. Milosh was strong, chiseled in lean muscle that wrapped his body like taught cords, from his tanned broad shoulders to his feet. He was human, but a damn brute, able to crush anything that came into his path. He would do well as an angel. She felt safe with these two soldiers, something that didn’t come naturally to her, not after Irisi. And now she was going to battle him. Destroy him. But first she needed Orian and the Forsaken he was after.

  She’s the key.

  The sun beat down on their backs causing small droplets of sweat to procure as they set off into the surrounding city. The sounds of sirens wailed off in the distance, catching Kyrina’s attention. These weren’t normal sirens, these were the same sirens used to signal natural disasters. She knew these sirens well, working alongside the human government in their paranormal sector. She remembered them from the last failed attempt the Consortium had attempted. She turned, looking at Milosh who was equally tense, watching his body stiffen. His muscles flexed beneath his bronze skin, as he clenched his squared jaw and watched off in the distance. Smoke seeped into the air wrapping around buildings and trees like a snake wraps its prey, curling in on itself as it reached the sky above.