by Peach, Hanna
“Innocent, you say?” said Mayrekk. “Here, the children play with real guns.”
Alyx couldn’t speak. Her heart felt like it was bleeding from everything that she saw. The hopelessness of trying to change anything that was happening on this planet overwhelmed her.
“Don’t you see,” Mayrekk said softly, “Elder Michael isn’t trying to destroy this planet. He’s trying to save it from the real monsters. The humans. They need to be stopped.”
“By wiping out their entire population?”
Mayrekk’s face became stone. “It is no less than what God would do if he were here.”
Alyx drew back from him. “You can’t really believe that!”
“He did it during the Great Flood, he would do it again now.”
“Who are we to decide−”
“We’re immortal, celestial beings. We are the hands of God. We shouldn’t be hiding in our tiny cities while these humans inhabit every corner of the world like a plague of rats.” Spit flew from Mayrekk’s mouth. “We need to reclaim this planet, for the sake of this planet. Elder Michael, he has a vision for us.”
“Power corrupts,” she said softly, repeating something Jordan once said. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
“What did you say?”
“This can’t happen. It’s wrong.”
In his rage Mayrekk’s eyes seemed to flicker: brown to blue and back to brown, as if she was seeing a corner of a set of blinds lifting up to reveal a hint of what was lurking beneath. Finally the flickering stopped on the set of cold blue eyes looking so wrong within Mayrekk’s soft face. They stared at her. Those icy blue eyes, those cold, determined eyes were all too familiar…
This wasn’t Mayrekk. Alyx tugged against him, trying to get her hand free from his grip. “Let go of me.”
He snarled at her efforts. He wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t get free of this imposter. “Stupid child. Why do you fight against me when you know you can’t win?”
Mayrekk lifted his right hand towards the sky and black clouds drew to a point above him as if drawn by a magnet. As he did this more and more of the façade started to drop, his face reassembling itself into Elder Michael, rippling out, starting from his eyes. Magic exploded out from every cloud around her, hitting her from all sides at once. She felt a tearing inside her. A tearing so painful that her pain became her entire universe, each flare of hurt a star, each cluster of stars a galaxy. He let go of her.
She began to fall.
Alyx tumbled, her limbs flapping out against the wind like broken wings. She couldn’t push against the wind. She couldn’t fly. The air was too heavy, gravity was too strong and it pulled her down, down, down towards the ground, twisting and turning underneath her, growing ever closer. She got the sense that whatever had been torn away she might never get back.
She hit the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alyx’s eyes felt glued shut. The ground underneath her seemed to be gripping her into it so that she could barely move. Behind the darkness of her closed lids she could hear whispers echoing as if she was in a closed space. And footsteps. Footsteps echoed along the ground into her ear.
“Get her up,” a voice boomed.
Immediately several hands grabbed her arms and hoisted her up. Her head spun as she tried to stand on her own feet. She pried her eyelids open and for the first few moments while her pupils adjusted to the light, she was blinded by white.
She scanned the area around her. She was standing in the Heart of Michaelea, the soaring roof curved over her. In front of her on the platform were the three Elders: Michael, Gabriel and Uriel. The Heart was full of Seraphim, clustering in rows and rows of benches, all jostling to get a better look at her, their faces full of curiosity and contempt.
Alyx knew instantly where she was and what this was.
Alyx screamed and her little girl’s voice pierced the night air of Michaelea. Symon was at her side in an instant. He pulled her shaking body into his arms. She wanted to hug him back but fear made her arms dead. They remained at her side. Symon didn’t appear to mind that she wasn’t responding to him.
“It’s okay, Alyx.” He pulled back and wiped the damp strands of hair from her face and cheeks. “It’s just a bad dream. A nightmare. It isn’t real.”
Alyx nodded stiffly. A nightmare. Not real.
“They’re getting worse.” Symon’s face etched with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She did.
She wanted so desperately to trust him, to tell him about her bad dreams, dreams about her parents. Somehow she felt that sharing them with him might make them hurt less. Symon, her latest foster parent, seemed different with her than all the others.
No, a voice inside her said. You can’t trust anyone. They’ll just leave you.
So she didn’t.
Alyx tucked her fear and her guilt away inside her, deep down where no one could reach them. “I’m fine,” she forced out.
“Okay.” Symon smiled. “If you ever decide you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Alyx stared around the Michaelea courtroom. This was how her nightmare started. The nightmares that she used to have as a child. This was her trial.
Alyx did tell Symon eventually. Back then she had told Symon and only Symon about the nightmares. She had all but forgotten about them when she got older. When she had met Israel she shared her nightmares with him. Now she was standing in her nightmare.
All those old fears came flooding back. She was suddenly nine again. She knew what was coming. She knew she couldn’t escape. She turned to run anyway. She felt a flare of pain around her wrists and was tugged back by the chains wrapped around them, held to the ground by thick clamps that disappeared into the floor.
The invisible judge’s voice boomed over the vicious whispers of the courtroom. “Who of her accusers wants to speak first?”
Alyx’s eyes found the witness area. There, standing in a cluster facing her, were her parents: her father, Sebastian, with the same green eyes she had, and Elise, her mother, a near-perfect copy of Alyx but with dark, deep-set eyes and long hair. In Alyx’s nightmare they had stood alone. But now they were joined by others.
Beside them was Mayrekk, Passar, and Elysia, her old flock mate. Clinging to Elysia was Ky, Lukas’ and Ana’s son. There was also standing there all those who died during Samyara’s raid or who died fighting against him. All dead. All their eyes were on her. Alyx’s hands went to her throat as it began to close up. They were here because she had failed them.
Her father stepped forward pulling her mother, tucked under his arm, with him. “We died trying to rescue you.”
All at once something lashed at her back. She felt her skin split open. Alyx drew an inward breath as the pain blazed into her depths. There was a second lash. This time she whimpered. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees, warm wetness trickling down her back. “I was just a baby,” she whispered.
“You stabbed me,” Passar’s voice declared. “When I was trying to do the right thing.”
The whip lashed and another strike of pain crossed her back, mingling with the first two lashes. “I thought you were Michael.”
“I died to be a message for you from Samyara,” said Elysia.
Lash.
“I died because of your botched plan to steal the Black Stone.”
Lash.
“Hello, kid.” Mayrekk’s voice came to her from across the room. Alyx opened her eyes and stared into his face.
“Mayrekk, please. You don’t blame me too, do you?”
Mayrekk’s lips pressed together. “I died because I helped you.”
Alyx sagged against her chains. She would not cry. She would not…
There was the largest, heaviest, loudest crack of the whip. Alyx’s back burst into fire. She couldn’t help the cry that tore from her mouth.
And on it went…
Until all of them had spoken, their accusations against her
laid bare. Voices from the gallery began to repeat a single whisper over and over, and it pierced her brain and echoed inside her. “Guilty.”
Alyx squeezed her eyes shut again, her head shaking back and forth to try and block out all the noise.
“Alyxandria,” the judge’s voice boomed out across the hall and into her ears, “it is clear. You have been found guilty.”
The ground began to shake. Alyx’s eyes flew open. From beneath her a wide circular platform of stone broke up out of the wooden floor of the Heart, her chains attached to it. It rose into the air, taking her with it.
It broke through the roof of the Heart, splinters and thatching showering her and piercing her skin like tiny needles. The platform rose higher and higher into the sky until she could not see the ground over the wide edge of the platform, just the horizon as the Earth curved underneath her.
Up here Alyx lay on her side, her chains around her like a heavy sash, the sun beating down upon her. Soon her throat was parched and her lips broken and cracked. She could barely feel it though, just another small addition to her overwhelming pain. Her wounds wept where she had been lashed. One for each death that she failed to prevent or death that she caused. They were wounds that would not close. She didn’t fight the chains. She accepted this. She deserved to be here.
Through her half-closed lids she watched a dark figure with wings circle the sky beyond. It circled closer and closer until Alyx began to make out the details: wide dark brown wings and a wide feathered tail, a red-skinned face and a curved beak like an animal of Hell.
The vulture swooped down towards her and landed on the far end of her platform. His sharp claws made terrible scratching noises as he moved towards her, piercing her with accusatory eyes. Alyx shut her lids as the bird neared her. She must be close to death now.
“Get away,” a familiar male voice said.
There was an indignant squawk and a fussing of wings, and the vulture took off from the platform. Alyx squinted against the sun as a translucent figure kneeled down beside her.
“Symon,” she croaked. It hurt to speak.
Symon flickered. He was but a ghost here. Had he died too? Symon shushed her. “It’s me. I’m here.” He tried to touch her face, but she barely felt his fingers against her cheek as she pushed her face against him. He pulled back his hand and stared at it. Alyx could almost see right through him. “I’m weak,” he said. “I can’t affect much here.”
“Where is here?”
“Michael is using some sort of machine, he calls it the Tree of Knowledge. He’s using it to steal magic. He’s stealing my magic. He’s used me to find you in the DreamScape and he’s using my knowledge of you to try and break you.”
It worked.
“With the added strength of the magic he’s stealing from me, he’s able to keep you trapped in here. He’s keeping your wounds open. And you’re letting him. Fight back.”
“I…can’t.”
“Alyx, listen to me. Michael’s going to open one of the gates to Hell tonight. I just don’t know which one. You can’t let him. You have to break out of this DreamScape.”
“I don’t deserve to live.”
“That’s rubbish. That’s what he wants you to think. Think about Israel and−”
“I failed Israel. I lost him.”
“Israel isn’t lost. Not yet. Now close these wounds. Break out of these chains and get out of this DreamScape.”
At the mention of Israel she felt a throb of life trickling back into her limbs. Alyx pulled against the chains that held her to this platform. They felt like steel cables. She couldn’t budge them. “I’m too weak, Symon. Everything hurts. It’s all just too much. If I just sleep a little…” She closed her eyes.
“No, Alyx. You have to fight against him.”
“I can’t fight him. He’s too strong. He won’t stop until I’m dead.”
“Alyx, Michael won’t stop because he’s scared of you.”
Alyx blinked. “What?”
“He is scared of you and Israel.”
“Why?”
“Raphael’s Prophecy says that a sacrifice made for love is the only thing that can save an entire race. You love him. And he loves you.”
This had been what Raphael had told Israel’s mother too. She had to fight. Alyx opened her eyes and struggled to sit up.
“Yes, that’s it,” Symon urged. “You can do it.”
Alyx gathered all her remaining strength and tugged at the chains. But they were so thick and strong she could not break them. They didn’t even bend against her efforts. She swore she heard laughing in the background. The sun seemed to flare even hotter, burning her exposed skin and causing sweat to flood precious water from her body.
Alyx dropped her arms and stared at the ghostly form of Symon. “I’m sorry. I’m too weak.”
“You will not die. I won’t let you.” Symon’s face became grim. “There’s only one thing left to do.” The gravity in his voice struck a chord of fear in Alyx.
“What are you doing?”
Symon’s ghostly figure bent down so that he was kneeling on the platform. Alyx’s eyes widened as she watched Symon’s fingers shake as he reached for the dagger in his boot. “I won’t let him use my powers to kill you. I won’t. If…if I take away my magic, then he will weaken enough for you to break out.”
“No, Symon.” The growing realization of what he meant to do gripped her like a thousand sharp claws. “Please, don’t!”
“It’s the only way, or he will destroy you. You need to live. The survival of an entire race depends on you and Israel.” Symon reached out with his free hand towards her face to brush her cheek. Alyx grabbed at him, desperate to find some purchase, but her fingers just went straight through his body.
Symon’s hands closed around the handle as he turned the point to face himself.
“Symon, please don’t.”
“All my life I wanted to make a difference. To do something good and right. I thought that becoming a warrior would let me do that, but I was wrong. Where I made my difference was with you.” Symon pressed the ghostly tip to his heart.
Alyx couldn’t watch. She just sobbed into her hands, begging him over and over not to do it.
“I love you, Alyx,” she heard him say.
“I love you too.” She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.
She heard Michael roaring in the background in her ears. It sounded so far away yet everywhere at once. “No, you stupid, stupid man.”
She felt the DreamScape fading and the chains around her wrists slipping away. She knew that it was because Symon was dying and his magic was draining, no longer able to be stolen by Michael, no longer being able to be used. She felt her wounds close up even as this fresh wound in her heart split open just a little bit further.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alyx’s face was wet across both cheeks. Warm arms were wrapped around her. Israel.
No. The smell was wrong. The shape of him was wrong. But still familiar. Jordan was holding her. She was in one of Cleo’s bedrooms, sitting up in bed, and Jordan was holding her. She froze.
His hand stilled on her back.
A clock ticked.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jordan began to mumble apologies as he pulled his hands off her.
The loss of Symon, the closest thing to a father that she had ever had, broke over her like a wave. She began to sob. She needed someone to hold her. She didn’t think Israel would begrudge her this so she clung to Jordan like he was her life raft.
Jordan rocked her softly and let her cry. And she cried. And cried. Until all the tears inside her dried up. She tried to feel glad that she had survived, but she couldn’t.
Finally she pulled away and when she did, Jordan let go of her. Alyx could see the strain of morning light through the lush, thick curtains of the bedroom. She must have been trapped in that DreamScape all night.
Jordan shifted back a little, giving her space between them on the bed. He
was sitting on the edge, beside her, facing her as she sat up. “I was coming to get you,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean… You were thrashing around in your sleep. I couldn’t wake you.”
Alyx wiped her eyes. “Why,” her voice croaked, so she cleared it and tried again. “Why were you coming for me?”
He shook his head. “Alyx, you scared me. Is everything okay?”
Alyx felt the pressure of the well of sadness rising up inside her again. She pushed back. She couldn’t give in to it right now. She couldn’t. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just tell me what you came here for.”
Jordan opened his mouth, then shut it and nodded. “Okay. Lukas just got word from Zulu. After the dark army left the castle, Zulu followed them. They turned south and eventually headed towards Morocco. They stopped in the Atlas Mountains where they remain now. They look like they’re guarding something.”
“Jordan, is there a Gate in the Atlas Mountains?”
“Yes, it’s the largest Hell Gate.”
“Alyx, listen to me. Michael’s going to open one of the Gates to Hell tonight. I just don’t know which one.”
Now she knew.
Michael would open the Gate with Israel tonight in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco and let in a demon army.
Tonight.
Which would mean that Michael would have to take Israel out of hiding; he’d have to bring him to Morocco. This was her chance, her chance to stop him and a chance to save Israel.
Her grief reformed into an impenetrable steel that wrapped itself around her heart. Symon’s sacrifice would not be wasted. Elder Michael wanted a battle. She would bring a war to him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Michael is going to open the Gates to Hell tonight,” Alyx said to their small leadership team around the table.
“His army is stationed around a remote section of the Dades Valley in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco,” said Jordan. “We know that there is a Gate in that valley, the largest one on Earth.”
“He’ll call forth Lucifer’s army using the Trinity Amulet, and he plans to use them, along with his dark army, to take control of this whole planet. This means wiping out every single mortal and Rogue Seraphim on Earth.”