by Aldrea Alien
In a way, he felt thankful for Harbinger's death. It had given his father the shock he'd needed to build the fortress. As the eldest, now that Harbinger was dead, Herald became its overseer. Although he hadn't wanted the task at first, his father tempted him with the belief that the near-constant attacks would give Herald a chance to repay the humans and rid him of his grief. It hadn't. He'd only grown used to the pain. Better at hiding it deep within.
Herald eyed his left hand. His attempt to rescue his brother had left its mark, his hand darkened by that short contact with the sunlight. Although his skin was pale when compared to the humans, he could easily be considered tan when standing next to some of his lighter-skinned siblings. But, like his brother's sword that Herald now wore at his side, his hand was a constant reminder of how he'd failed. Of how, even here, he hadn't been able to protect his family.
He tugged the sleeve back. Beneath the linen lay normal-coloured skin. The heavy fabric had protected him from the sunlight's effect. Theoretically, he supposed he could don gloves and a hood on top of his normal attire and be capable of walking outside during the daytime. He wished he'd the courage to test it. Harbinger would've tried by now.
"After all this time, do you still mourn?"
Herald rolled over at the angel's words to stare at the crystal. Without the torchlight to lend its harsh glow, the quartz gave off a pale blue light. Standing at its heart, the angel looked even more otherworldly. Mourn? Was his grief so obvious that strangers could see it? "To what do you refer?"
"Your brother."
He sat up, his skin prickling as if the winter air had leached through the walls. "What would you know of him?" She was still in the crystal. Trapped. She could sense him. But barely. Such skill she found hard to maintain. Her own admission. Had she lied to him? Why not? Everyone else did. They tried to convince him he could forget. He couldn't. That the pain would subside in time. It hadn't.
"I know you loved him very much. That the thought of him hurts..."
"Who told you that?" He scrambled to his feet and slammed himself against the crystal so hard that she jumped. "Who?"
Herald waited for her to downplay his brother as nothing more than a monster. She shook her head, those huge grey-blue eyes dark in the dim light. A shadow stood outlined in their depths. The longer he stared, the more convinced he became that it was the image of a man. "In all my years, I never realised there were times when humans would prove themselves to be just as brutal as the very demons they sought to destroy."
Destroying demons? His brother's death... My nightmare. He stepped back from the crystal. She'd been in his mind? The idea of anyone reaching in there chilled him, but for an angel to... She could've done anything to him. Herald reached for his sword. His hand fell on the empty space where his scabbard should've been. Of course, he had removed the belt before sleeping.
Not taking his eyes off the angel, he felt along the ground for the sword with his foot. "I thought you said you could barely sense me." His boot hit the sheathed blade. It slithered along the floor with a tinkling sigh.
"Dream walking is not as difficult." Somehow she looked down on him, although they both stood. He was an easy foot taller than her, yet she still managed to seem massive. Her face was soft with compassion, mirroring her voice.
Every inch the forgiving angel. He frowned. Well, almost. How could he have missed something so blatantly obvious? "I thought angels were supposed to have wings." Perhaps she wasn't as divine as she'd claimed. Maybe she really was one of the jinn. They were famed for their mischievous nature, after all.
Her gaze lowered, lips narrowing. "As it is with demons, there are many types of angels." She sighed, rolling her shoulders as if she were suddenly conscious of the lack. "My kind live as spirits, we've no need of wings."
His eyes still on her, he bent to retrieve his sword belt. "And what kind would that be?" He'd only the vaguest interest in her reply; keeping her talking about herself was a perfect way of diverting his mind from his dreams. How many types of angels could the Heavens possess anyway? Corporeal and incorporeal, obviously. Nothing else. What need would there be for more than that?
She smiled as if she had read his thoughts. For all he knew, she could've been reading his mind since his arrival. He'd no knowledge on the extent of an angel's power, trapped or not. There could be a number of things she was doing to him that he wasn't aware of.
"Being what you are, you likely wouldn't be able to pronounce what I am without having your head explode. Let's just say it translates as 'children of the sun'. Roughly." She knelt on the floor, leaning a shoulder against the inside of the crystal. "I prefer the term light-giver. It has a softer note to it, don't you think?"
Children of the sun. It sounded like some fancy cult of sun worshipers, but that couldn't be right. He looked her over. It wasn't the crystal that glowed. The light came from what resided within. She glowed with a cold blue light, like a flame not yet extinguished. Light-giver. The sun gave light. She was a child of the light that was given. The light of the sun. She gave off the light of the sun. Their eyes met and his skin tingled. "Y-you're sunlight?" All of the sunlight, every last ray, came from beings like her? From holy creatures. Was that why his family, his father, could not step outside during the daytime? My hand. Darkened because of beings like them?
Her fair brows rose. Had she not expected him to make the connection?
"Simplistically? I suppose I am." Her eyes dulled. The folds of her grey robe grew dark. "Though it shames me to say that would mean I'm nothing more than a tiny beam." The image of the mighty, compassionate angel vanished, leaving in its place a small, uncertain woman.
His stomach twisted. He hadn't meant to sadden her. What if she started crying? After the restless sleep, he didn't think he could deal with that.
Herald rubbed at the back of his neck. "Surely even the tiniest ray of light is needed to warm the earth?" With her fair hair and skin, what sort of light did she give off? Was it the soft blue she illuminated the room with? Or did she shine differently when out in the world?
The angel, the light-giver, shook her head. "I've been gone for centuries. Scarce as I shine, they would've replaced me by now." She looked about her, giving a cheerless smile at the bare walls and shuttered windows. "As much as I hate to admit it, I'm better off being here."
Herald frowned. Nothing should ever prefer a cage to the wild. "Surely freedom is preferable to captivity."
She laughed. The sound tinkled through his ears to echo in the depth of his mind and tweak one corner of his mouth upwards.
"Staying here at least gives me an assurance that I exist." She looked down at her hands. "I'm not a major child. The world wouldn't miss me that much if I wasn't around. But if they've replaced me, I'll be obsolete and—" A tear began its descent on her cheek. She hastily brushed it aside. "They'll unmake me." Her gaze lifted and their eyes met again. Those beautiful orbs, how he wished he could see them in the fullness of the light. "I may barely exist out here, but I'll become less than dust, less than the smallest thread of light."
Less than dust. Not even in Hell had he heard of souls being obliterated. The body, yes. There was much that could be done to flesh. But to a soul? Torture would be the customary approach there, though scattering and imprisoning were also favourable. Yet they were all human souls. No one had seemed willing to reveal where a demon's spirit went when it died. It must still exist. On some level. Hopefully.
"Why do you not just take a more solid form? Surely they can't unmake you if you're living flesh." A living angel at the heart of a strigoi's den, trapped with a man who very much wanted to taste her blood.
Given the choice, Herald wouldn't have left the crystal either.
"We're not made to live on this world. If I survived long enough to leave this valley, I would die with the first sunset." She smiled with what he was sure was forced gaiety. "It's not so bad here." The corners of her mouth wavered. "Granted, the company can sometimes be a little obtuse, b
ut their presence is never permanent." She bowed her head. The glint of an eye revealed she still peered at him through pale lashes. "Have you gotten all you want, eldest of Ștefan's children?"
"Almost." He chuckled to himself, unsurprised she knew what he was doing. Perhaps she could read his mind. He'd have to be more careful from now on. "Tell me your name." If he were to guard her, even for a little while, he'd rather call her something other than 'angel.'
Herald raised a brow at her silence. "Is it another word I cannot speak without suffering a horrible death?" Surely she could translate it if that were so. Or was it not possible? If it were so easy to dispatch him, she would've done so to his siblings centuries ago.
"I am not like the high ones," she said, the words barely audible. "I have no name. At least, not quite as you would know it." Giving a deep sigh, she continued. "I am called the Midwinter Sunrise When The Sun's Rays Touch The Snow-covered Mountains And Reflect The Pale, Golden Light."
Herald blinked. "Really? All that?" She must be jesting. Such a name would've been a mouthful for anyone to speak, even angels. Except, he didn't think she was kidding. "I don't suppose you go by another name. Or perhaps have a shortened version?" He was fully-prepared to call her Golden Dawn if he had to.
"We don't communicate the same. Speech, any speech, is the thing of flesh. It requires a tongue, lips... a breath. Whilst I hold the ability to speak whatever language I wish, it would not be, as you would say, my native tongue."
No speaking. Did they perhaps talk mind to mind? Yes, he'd heard of such a method. Though he could never grasp how such a language would be perceived. What would it sound like to someone like him? Dare he ask her to 'say' one word? Best not. Like speaking the true name for her kind, he'd a feeling that 'hearing' such a thing would have an unpleasant effect. "Very well, then what do my siblings call you?"
She shrugged. "The angel. What else?"
Of course they do. He sighed. "Would it offend you if I gave you a name?"
Again she managed to stare down at him, though she sat on the floor and he still stood, and this time, it was with the air of a queen. A blonde brow arched, creasing her forehead. "That would, of course, depend on the name."
Ștefan had a penchant for naming Herald's sisters after plants. That same affinity must have rubbed off on him for, upon trying to think of a name she wouldn't mind, he could consider nothing else. "Acarna?" he whispered in the off-chance that she hated it.
Her lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles. "That would be adequate." Her control broke and she gave him a wide grin. The joy on her face was pure, like that of a crisp, clear night after a light snowfall. He couldn't help but smile along with her.
The tips of his fangs brushed his bottom lip, bringing him back to reality. His cheeks feeling warmer than usual, Herald looked about the room, his gaze settling on the shuttered windows. Four windows—large enough to let a man step through—faced east. He'd never had the desire to climb any of the towers before his departure to make the fortress, but he'd swear the windows weren't as big back then as they were now.
He examined the closest window. From a distance, the wood looked serviceable, enough to last another seven hundred years. But from up close, he could see the fine stress lines and rusted hinges. It shouldn't take much effort to open them and let her once again see the light from which she was made.
Chapter Nine
Herald thumped a fist against the shutters. The two wooden halves shuddered under the impact but did little else. Muttering, he tried harder. Metal creaked. The shutters issued a soft moan. Why did they not budge? He had not grown so weak that he could be defeated by a pair of half-rotten shutters.
Jabbing his sword between the two panels, he made another attempt. A piece gave way, albeit reluctantly. Another thrust and the blade broke through to the other side.
"What are you doing?" Acarna shrieked. "Stop that!"
Herald looked over his shoulder at the angel. She'd gotten to her feet and now stood pressed against the crystal with her big, blue-grey eyes open as far as they could go. Was that concern marking her face? He didn't think she'd object to him removing the shutters. "Do you like being in the dark?" he demanded.
Acarna's blonde eyebrows lowered. "Well, no. But the crystal..." She bit her lip. "It'll reflect the sunlight. You won't be safe in this room."
He grinned at the half-destroyed shutter. He'd not mistaken her expression. She was concerned. For my safety. It'd been a long time since anyone had thought him vulnerable enough to be worried about him. "It'll be night for a short while longer, after that I can sleep on the steps." Sleeping out there would be little different to the restless sleep he got in here.
Another heavy swing at the wood and the shutters began their long descent to the frozen ground. Through the gap came the silken dark of a moonless night. He risked a peek at the angel, wanting to see her reaction, as his foot absently nudged at the scant wood scatterings.
Acarna pressed hard against the crystal. She stared at him—or was it past him?—her eyes glittering with tears. Awe covered her face, mingling with a painful yearning. "It's beautiful."
"It's just starlight," he mumbled. He moved to the next window, the sudden desire for fresh air quickening his pace. The shutter trembled as the first had done. Had she never seen the stars? His mind flinched from the thought. What of the moon? Or the sun? Father kept her locked in here for seven centuries. Shut away in eternal darkness, with naught but her pale glow and the occasional torch to illuminate the room. Someone must have thought to let the light in before now. "Surely you've seen this before."
"How? We're allowed beyond the threshold only when it's our time to give forth light and for nothing else."
Herald lifted his sword to bring the second shutter down and halted in mid-swing. "Threshold?" The sword twisted in his grip, its tip clanging sharply against the stone ledge. The vibration ran up his arms, jarring his shoulders. "What threshold?"
"How else did you think we enter this world from our realm?" She giggled, blue-grey eyes glittering. "I suppose you would call it a portal." She twirled in the centre of the crystal, arms half-lifted at her side. Even in her apparent contentment, she seemed conscious of the small space she claimed. "It surrounds all of Earth, detectable only to those with the permission to pass through."
He turned back to the shuttered window, eyes blindly running over the wood. It hadn't occurred to him that Heaven would be as inaccessible as Hell. He'd never thought on it before. Hadn't a reason to. Ridiculous to think it could be any other way really. Heaven would be bound to have a heavy protection against anyone entering, especially the damned.
The second pair of shutters opened on the next blow of his sword, hinges groaning and snapping at the strain. He moved to the other large windows and subjected them to the same treatment. The wood and metal proved themselves as difficult as the first two but eventually yielded to his attempts.
He stepped back and paced the room to admire the view all four windows gave. Here, what with being so high, the surrounding mountains did not loom and dominate the horizon. The sky looked infinite, the stars brighter and larger without the moon's presence. Touching them almost seemed possible.
The fortress held its own magnificent image of the countryside beyond the valley. When other duties did not call, Herald liked spending the night staring out at the forest, especially when the moon was full enough to illuminate the land. But the fortress had been built for a purpose, for protection. It had not the height to make one believe they could pluck the stars from their velveteen bed.
The pale blush of dawn crept over the mountains, creating an uneven halo as the first tendrils on the horizon blanked the faint starlight. Not yet enough to endanger him, although he could feel the pull to seek shelter stirring in the back of his mind. Herald ignored it as best he could, one of the very things he would admonish his younger siblings for. "If you're the dawn, then why do we still have sunlight in the mornings?" As with the other mornings, the
light was not golden in any way. A weak yellow at best. "Or is it because they've replaced you?" Still mindful of the encroaching daylight, he tore his gaze from the window to her face.
Acarna continued to stare out the window. "It's possible my Crafter hasn't yet felt the need or he may not wish to attempt replicating me." Her wheat-gold hair shimmered in the faint light as she shook her head. "We are many and some of us appear quite regularly, others emerge... less often."
He took a step towards her, sure he heard a touch of sadness in her voice. "Which group are you from?" he asked, feeling that he already knew the answer.
She sighed, her own gaze settling on him, and his heart thumped a few beats heavier. Those eyes. More glorious than the rising sun at his back. And just as dangerous. "There are those among us that are more... specialised, I suppose. Particularly in valleys such as this, the way the weather can be brings so many delightful opportunities for the Crafters. Although it means such times are rare." A glimmer appeared in her mostly grey eyes as she smiled. Sorrow. "Every four centuries I'm only meant to enter this world, shine, and return home to spend my time waiting in Heaven for another four hundred years."
Trapped for seven hundred years and she'd have missed doing her intended duty just the once. Why would anyone spend the effort to make something so uncommon? Especially if she was only there until midday as he suspected. And to spend the rest of the time stuck in one place—even if that place was the Heavens—doing nothing must grow monotonous. "Have you ever seen the sunlight?" Herald frowned as the angel shook her head. "What of the light you give?" Surely she must have seen that.
Annoyance flickered across her face. Her brow briefly twitched upward. "And I suppose you can see yourself as others do without the aid of a mirror?" she replied. "Or do you not have a reflection?"