Azrael squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed the demon. “Do you agree?”
A cold breeze brushed her hair aside and goosebumps spread across her skin.
… Agreed.
CHAPTER TWO
A God's Choice
The Hallowed kneeled in pain and concentration. To be Hallowed was to be touched by the Divine, leaving behind a burning spark fissured to one’s soul. To truly commune with the Divine, one must abandon their identity, their name, and any attachment to this life. He peered into the sky, anxious and filled with awe that his sacrifice finally would give him his reward. It was time to speak with the gods.
Queen Ceres nibbled on her nail. Even though he was the most powerful Hallowed in Manor Saffron, the Queen still shifted her weight and didn’t seem to be able to hide the anxiety streaking lines across her face. “How long does it take?” she blurted.
The Hallowed relaxed his shoulders and regarded her with trained patience. “Majesty, you have bid me to do the single most important undertaking of my existence. Commune with the Divine is not something to be rushed.” He placed his hands palm up on his thighs. “Much less when the command comes without any warning or sense at all.”
Queen Ceres glowered and slapped her hand against her leg. The turquoise blue of her dress shimmered in the dying light. “Enough. Just get on with it.”
The Hallowed resisted the urge to roll his eyes and regarded the unused corner of the gardens that she had insisted they use for this attempt. Normally, he would have traveled with the Queen and an entourage to the capital, gathering support and well-wishes for such a monumental endeavor. Instead, he sat behind a row of shrubbery with only the Queen’s ladies for an audience.
The girls weren’t here to appraise his long-awaited reward, nor acknowledge his sacrifice of identity to reach this point. They were here of necessity and held up a long, weighty mirror. Their thin arms strained to keep it angled at him.
The Hallowed took in a deep breath and gathered his energy, not yet ready to look at his reflection.
As he hummed, a warm and dusty glow swirled on the ground. Queen Ceres straightened and watched him with wide eyes. Her own Acceptance reacted to the power of the Light. The long stretch of Divine Material embedded into the skin of her back enflamed, reflecting its golden spirals in the mirror.
The tension grew, and with it the winds picked up. The servant girls were well trained, and stood fast against the stinging onslaught as heat embroiled in the corner of the secluded gardens. Light emanated not from the falling sun, nor the rising moon, but from his own form which kneeled on the marbled path.
Queen Ceres dared to step closer. The Hallowed’s senses were alive and he could feel those around him. He became the maidservants as they trembled, their arms burning as they kept the mirror steady. He was the Queen as her glistening heel felt the heat that burned through the ground. The connection between Terra and the Celestial plane was thinning. It was nearly time.
The Hallowed shot open his blazing eyes, searing anything his gaze touched. His mouth slacked open and he was nearly overwhelmed by the power. But he managed to swerve his gaze to the mirror. The servant girls crouched behind it and muffled pained cries. He reached out toward the rippling surface, his portal to the other side.
The instant his hand touched the glass, his spirit detached from his flesh. His body remained motionless. His finger was outstretched and stuck against the mirrored edge. The world had frozen in time and only the Hallowed moved on, knowing full well that this was the moment he had trained his whole life to achieve and he would live and die by the sharpness of his focus.
While his body was left behind, his soul soared into the heavens. He did not pause at Celestia’s gates. No, that was not the true Celestial realm. Even as it floated among the skies and hosted its angelic ward, it was nothing more than a city. The place the Hallowed sought was beyond such petty creatures. He did not give it another passing glance as he ascended.
The clouds gave way to deep blue, which then turned cold and dark. Through the boundary of world and space the Hallowed’s soul speared to the other side. The world around him erupted in Light. He fell to his knees, bound to a temporary ethereal body. Pain was nonexistent, and the only thing that kept him low to the burning ground was his own apprehension and fear.
Then he felt them watching him. The ancient creators of all that was and all that will be. They did not speak, but he could sense their commune with his soul. They spoke with emotions that transcended anything he’d ever known.
He shuddered against the foreign invasion of his mind and focused on his purpose in coming here. “I come to you, oh Holy Ones, for the sanctioned quest of Manor Saffron.”
The Divine understood his intent, and he didn’t truly need to speak his mission with words. But he clung to what he knew and could not fathom to remain silent, feeling their will roil around in his head.
They awarded him with mercy and retreated their overpowering voice of emotion. The sensation eased and he dared to look up with his golden eyes to those he had dreamed of meeting for so long. He cried unashamed as his gaze fell upon the creatures. They stood tall as the citadel, their glowing, ancient frames towering over him shedding Light and love. Not a single shadow remained in their presence. The Hallowed raised his hands in reverence, nearly forgetting why he was here.
Your time is short, our child. Speak the name and we will answer.
They did not have to reach him with words, but they seemed to know he desired to hear their voices more than anything else. He smiled and struggled to remember his mission.
“Azrael,” he whispered. He trembled, nearly swept away with reverence. “If she would become Queen, would you honor her with your Divine gifts?”
The Divine stilled and their tumbling, golden robes flared out as they considered his request.
He froze, realizing perhaps it was a mistake to offer a hybrid. Would they be offended? Of course they would. What had he been thinking accepting the Queen’s request? The Divine would smite his soul in this very place.
A hybrid? they asked, seeming more curious than outraged.
He bowed his face and pushed his ethereal head to the blazing floor. It did not burn him, for he did not have skin to burn. “Forgive our ignorance, oh Holy Ones. Our Lady, Queen Ceres, has prayed to your wise council and knows not how to proceed. She must know for sure. This is her command to my servitude. I must obey my purpose.” Perhaps it was childish to point his finger at the Queen for offering a hybrid, but it was true. All he wished was to bask in their presence, even if for but a moment.
One stepped forward from the many. The Hallowed cowered as heat blazed the ground a fiery red. This was it. He was not only going to die, but cease to exist. His very soul would be given back to the grains of creation as if he’d never been born at all.
Submit the hybrid to the trial. If she can overcome the Darkness, she will receive the Light.
The voices were not many, but one. The Hallowed waved out his trembling hands as relief filled his ethereal chest.
“Thank you for your council. We forever heed the wisdom of our creators.”
The Hallowed reached for the dwindling thread back towards his body. Yet when he found it, the thread was frayed and tiny golden wisps dwindled into the Light, threatening to disintegrate completely. He’d been here too long.
He didn’t hesitate and grabbed onto it with fierce certainty and retreated back to his body. His ethereal form unfurled and puffed out of existence. His soul scrambled back on the path to his fleshly cage, surging only a breath before the fraying thread. He blurred past Celestia and past the clouds until he was close enough to see the gardens again.
He slammed back into his body. The shockwave pulsed out and time unlatched from its lock. The mirror shattered and the glass shards sizzled into nothingness in the air.
Queen Ceres threw her hands up to protect her face. But her own Acceptance kept her safe from the heat of the Hallowed’s return. She
must have expended the effort to reach out and protect her maidservants as well, for the only evidence of their near graze with death was the blackened edges of their silk dresses.
The Queen snapped her gaze to the heaving Hallowed. He clenched his hands over his throbbing head and cried unashamed. Even though his body screamed with agony of the separation, his soul ached even more to be separated from the gods.
“And?” she urged. Her concern roiled around in his head, a mere echo compared to the Divine’s emotion.
He looked up at her and was startled by the sight of the world tinged with grey. His normally Light-filled vision had dimmed to what must be normal, human sight. He ran an index finger over his cheekbone, not daring to touch his blistered eyes.
“Yes.” He pushed the word out with a coarse breath. “One said yes.”
CHAPTER THREE
Inner Sanctum
An entourage of petite servants flitted about the Queen like playful sprites weaving trinkets through her bronzed hair. While the servants were gorgeous with their defined cheekbones and long legs, they donned modest gowns to accent the Queen rather than draw attention to themselves. However, even if they’d been naked, nothing could have drawn Azrael’s attention from the Queen. Even the enormous golden-arched mirror did nothing but to magnify the Queen’s presence. Standing entranced in the doorway, Azrael momentarily forgot all her worries and fears as she gazed at the rarity that was the Queen’s Acceptance framed by the V-line dress. The golden tattoo glowed as if it had absorbed the sun’s rays and writhed with life up and down the Queen’s delicate spine. Only the ruler of Manor Saffron could wear such a mark. This was what it meant to survive the initiation of magic necessary to maintain a house of Windborn.
A snap of the Queen’s fingers broke the trance. The servant girls’ giggles abruptly ceased and they swept in unison in what seemed like a practiced dance, bowing with impeccable elegance before exiting the room.
“Come, my child,” Queen Ceres said while puffing the azure silk of her dress about her shoulders.
Keeping a tight grip on her courage, Azrael crossed the threshold from the rest of the Manor into the Queen’s chambers. A supernatural sense of power restricted her throat with fear. She held her breath, lest any signs of her intimidation be given away.
Queen Ceres glided to her side and pinched Azrael’s chin. Out of habit when facing the Queen, Azrael blinked her green eye closed. “Who did this to you?” she asked as she traced a light finger over Azrael’s puffy cheekbone.
Azrael slit her green eye open. Lying required just a little evil. “A mishap during my dance lessons, Majesty.”
The Queen frowned and released her. “Sit with me. There’s much to discuss.” Queen Ceres reclined on one of the room’s fine one-armed sofas and Azrael was grateful the bruise would be overlooked.
“Azrael, what if I told you that you didn’t have to marry Sir Percival?” the Queen said.
Azrael’s eyes widened as she lowered herself to the velvet seat. “Am I being banished?”
The Queen smothered a laugh in her hand before arching her brow in a sympathetic gesture. “No, sweet child. Quite the opposite.” She leaned and grazed her fingers across Azrael’s arm, sending warmth and comfort through her veins. “You have been chosen to undergo the Acceptance, and should you pass the trial, become Queen.”
The Queen’s words were so heavy they fell straight into Azrael’s heart and bolted deep in her chest. “You wish me…” Azrael drew a hand to herself, “to become your successor?”
The Queen’s smile grew. “Not only I, the Divine themselves wish it for you. And a hybrid as Queen? Imagine it.”
A multitude of possibilities unfurled in Azrael’s mind like hatched seeds sprung to life.
This is my opportunity? Azrael swallowed. It was better than anything she could have imagined. I could certainly impose changes to how hybrids are treated should I become Queen.
“Now, becoming Queen isn’t all luxury and romance,” the Queen said, cutting into her optimistic thoughts. “There are responsibilities, duties, and, of course, the Acceptance Trial to endure.”
Azrael numbly nodded, her eyes drawn to the Queen’s hidden tattoo.
“Do you understand what you are, sweet child?” The Queen leaned in once more and her lilac perfume drifted in the air between them. Azrael leaned in as well, lured by the conspiratorial tone the Queen’s voice had taken. “You are of angels, my dear. All Windborn are.”
Azrael slammed back in her chair and wheezed. “Angels?”
“A Queen’s duty is to wean her children from the Light from which they’re born until they can live on their own without it,” she continued in an easy breath. “We require constant stores of Divine Material to keep the Windborn fed during their adolescence. That is why they must be sold, to pay the price of keeping them alive.” She clicked her tongue. “Such a vicious cycle.”
Azrael blinked and swallowed a dry lump in her throat. The Queen had just revealed what the Windborn truly were, and why she sold them into slavery. She would only share such things with one to take her place. Azrael began to hyperventilate.
“The Divine chose you,” the Queen said and pressed a firm hand on Azrael’s, “but you must accept out of your own free will. In this, you are in control of your own fate.” The Queen’s magic sent a wave of supernatural comfort and ease that pressed on Azrael’s shoulders.
Azrael shrugged the magic off, not wishing for synthetic comfort and the Queen smiled knowingly.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Azrael admitted. How could she possibly accept? The only reason she was here was because she’d made a pact with a demon.
“You don’t have to make this choice blindly,” the Queen continued, seemingly oblivious to Azrael’s turmoil. “Come with me and I will show you what your decision would mean.”
Queen Ceres swept to the inner sanctum of the room with unmatched grace. Her tiny shoes clicked against the marble in gentle chimes, and with a wave of her hand a corner of the wall split into symmetrical lines, forming seams that spread until a doorway appeared. The stone’s surface became gritty and translucent. As it thinned, a long hallway emerged. Azrael mustered the courage to rise and follow.
Queen Ceres spread her arms and the dawn of a new sunrise lit the grand hall. Wide, golden arches speared into the cathedral ceilings and a layer of molten light swept away like ripples on a pond. Azrael gasped in elation as the Queen’s wild gaze caught hers.
“Majesty?” Azrael asked breathlessly.
The Queen’s arms dropped to her sides, causing her dress to flutter. Intricate seams in the fabric revealed tiny gems that glittered against the light. “Welcome to your new home.”
Azrael stepped into the brilliance. Her eyes darted to catch fleeting glimpses of a writing she couldn’t understand. Everywhere, there were whispers of a tome she couldn’t read, and if she listened closely, a chant she couldn’t quite make out.
The Queen placed a warm hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “You can sense the Essence.” Pride wafted from the Queen’s words.
“What is it?” Azrael asked.
“It’s Light. In these halls, it can speak. It whispers of all that has transpired in this place.”
Queen Ceres glided through the emblazoned corridor and Azrael followed with her heart in her throat.
“Do you know of the winged Queen?”
Azrael bit her lip before responding. “Yes, but it’s just a myth.” And so were angels.
Queen Ceres chuckled. “This Sanctum was built after she perished. So many Windborn were set free before her reign ended. It was such an era of prosperity and peace. It should never be forgotten by those brave enough to remember.”
Queen Ceres halted when they reached a living door of Light. It burned Azrael’s eyes to stare at the thick oak infused with Divine Material.
“Alexandria,” she said the name with reverence. The shimmering door before her ignored the profound moment. “Kno
w that she was real, as are most myths you’ve been taught to disregard for your own safety.”
The Queen directed her penetrating gaze at Azrael. The power behind it pushed her back a step.
“Here, Alexandria ruled. Here, she grew, fought, and died. And it is here that we strive to fulfill her uncompleted destiny.”
Azrael wrung her hands. “What was her destiny?”
The Queen smiled. “Should you follow in her footsteps, you will one day find out.” She opened the door and her face softened, holding onto the knob. “I cannot give you all the answers. You must learn these things on your own if you’re truly to become Queen.” She opened her eyes, yet kept her gaze lowered to the floor. “I permit you one mentor. I pray he will guide you as he has guided me.”
She waved Azrael on. Never before had Azrael seen the Queen in a state of such submission. Her shoulders sagged and her gaze did not stray from her feet.
Curiosity drove Azrael’s feet forward and she stepped into the brilliant room. Massive glass windows shed in sunlight that dulled in comparison to the radiance of the Divine-lit walls.
Shielding her eyes from the glare, she focused her vision through slit fingers until the silhouette of a man appeared. Then, his face came into focus and Azrael drew in a ragged breath.
His was marble come to life. His stance, his body, his gaze were ultimate perfection. Stretched out behind him were great white arches; feathered adornments that moved with the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. To her utter amazement, she realized they were wings.
Unlike the jarring ice-blue eyes of a Windborn boy, this creature’s dark blue eyes enraptured her as if he held the ocean within himself—and he was anything but a boy. He held her in a bottomless, enticing gaze that demolished her world. Her entire being was snatched up in an iron web and nothing could have moved her from that spot.
Fallen to Grace (Celestial Downfall Book 1) Page 2