“I understand you will be grieving for a long while,” Artemis said, “but are you going to be alright?”
Ariel nodded, holding tightly to the archangel. She didn’t want to leave his side, but knew that she had to see to her other duties. The thought of arranging her father’s funeral almost sent her back into a sobbing fit, but having Artemis there seemed to send her tears away. She pulled away from him slowly, stroking the soft feathers of his wings as he pulled his wings back.
“Are you truly a child of Hell?” she asked timidly, changing the subject to get her mind off of her father. She knew Artemis wasn’t from Heaven and he had shown her images of his old home in Hell, but she still wanted to know more.
Artemis smiled, but Ariel noted the pained look he was trying to hide. “I was, once,” he replied. “I am the offspring of a demon and an angel. It is not a common pairing, and almost all mixed-blood children die within the first few years. But I survived. I got lucky. At least, I believed that for a time. Eventually my luck ran out and I was forced into conflicts I wish I could have avoided.”
“Like the war between Heaven and Hell,” Ariel prompted. He had shown her exactly what had really happened in the war, but her mirror showed her images of towering buildings made of steel and stone and glass, and the humans used projectile weapons she had never seen before. They even used explosive devices that leveled entire cities, destruction far beyond even what the demon was leaving in his wake. Surely the image was from far in the future, but Artemis spoke of it as if it was from the past.
Artemis nodded, his face taking on a much darker expression. “Yes. I lost many friends in that war. Family too, or what was left of it. But there is enough sadness about today. Go, Ariel, and attend to other matters. I’ll find you when I have need of your help again.”
Ariel nodded, tears beginning to well up in her eyes once more. She knew going back out to the palace grounds would be difficult while she was grieving, but also knew that without Artemis there with her it would become completely unbearable at times. She turned and left his chambers, making her way back up the stairs.
Artemis watched her go, wishing she’d fall in love with someone - anyone - else. He wished he could tell her why he would never return her love, but he knew that altering anything would cause chaos. Victor’s death would likely alter far too much, but Artemis knew that there was a way around that, at least. He decided to put Ariel and Victor out of his mind and closed his door. Sighing, he removed his blindfold, revealing his twisted scars and empty sockets. He knelt beside his bedside table where there sat a wine bottle sized statue of a scythe wielding hooded figure. He stared at the statue with his empty sockets, seeing perfectly well without his eyes, and the statue stared back. Artemis began speaking to the statue in an ancient tongue, older, even, than Heaven and Hell. As he prayed, the statue’s eye sockets began to glow with an eerie purple light.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dante ascended a tall tower, walking up scores of flights of stairs, his hand gliding over the painted metal railing along the wall. His sword bounced against his shoulder with each step, causing the blade to tap on the rim of its scabbard. The metallic tapping was the only sound echoing off the stone walls of the tower, tapping out a rhythmic cadence. With each step behind him, Dante drew closer to his goal. He had been walking up the tower’s stairs for close to an hour and he was very near to the top.
At the top of the stairs was a large metal door. He stepped through the door onto the tower’s roof. Grey clouds swirled overhead, leaving only thin shafts of light to illuminate the otherwise gloomy city. Other towers, some taller, others shorter than the one on which Dante stood, spread out as far as the eye could see. Every one of them lay in ruins. In some areas of the city a tower would shudder and then crumble under its own weight. Dust and debris clouded the area around each fallen tower, but it eventually cleared, leaving only more dead - helpless victims of a pointless war.
Dante stared out over the ruins and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He had survived. He was only a boy and he had survived. He had been training with his master when the battle had erupted in the city’s center. His father, a sergeant in Earth’s army, immediately got the call to go to the front lines to fight. He hugged his son and his wife and took up his sword to kill the invaders. Eventually, Dante’s mother, a field medic, was called upon as well. She stood with tears in her green eyes and told Dante to be good and stay safe. She would be back soon. Then, she too left Dante in that training hall on the outskirts of the city.
Hours later, Dante stood atop a lonely tower amid the rubble of at least a dozen other buildings. Bodies littered the tower’s roof around him. What had happened? Why was there a war? Why did it have to come to his home? Why did his parents have to leave him? He looked around, his small hands shaking, and tried to make sense of the carnage. There was so much blood. Broken swords lay scattered over the debris. Spent bullet casings lay in the dust or rolled in the light breeze. Scorch marks and melted stone told of powerful magic pelting the roof of the tower.
And there, crushed under the rubble that had fallen from a taller tower that used to stand nearby, were a sergeant and a medic, clasping each other’s hands in death as they often did in life.
Dante woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and sat bolt upright. His breath came in ragged gasps and his fists were clenched at his sides. He let out a feral scream of pure anguish that caused sleeping birds to take flight in fear. He had left that memory behind in another life altogether. Why it would creep into his mind after so long, he had no idea. He had left his humanity behind in that moment.
In a fit of violent anger, Dante unleashed a wave of crimson hellfire that roared outward in all directions around him. Trees turned to ash in seconds, brush was obliterated, and any animal life caught in the flames was agonizingly turned to vapor. Even the soil was melted to a smooth finish. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Dante rolled over and went back to sleep, his dreams taking on an angry, murderous weal.
The next morning, Dante walked along a barren path that cut through a dense forest. The morning fog had not lifted yet, leaving visibility low. The demon was not worried. Nothing on Earth could harm him. He was on too important of a mission.
Eventually his thoughts began to wander. He knew he was headed toward another city to destroy, which meant more and more humans would die at his hands. Not a pleasant thought at the time, but he knew that once he was in the middle of the destruction, his trepidation would turn to glee. He was not overly bothered by it; he had accepted it as a part of who he was. What bothered him were the memories of the first town he had burned. His mind kept going back to the woman he had tried to save. Why, when he was killing men, women, and children by the hundreds, did he stop to try to save one? Why her? She was certainly fairly pretty, but no more so than most of the other young human women he had killed. What was it about her that caused him to stop what he was doing? In his mind he could see her fearful brown eyes pleading him to save her. He remembered walking through the streets and cutting down humans left and right. But when his sword rent her skin, he stopped for a brief moment to look at her. A nagging feeling tugged at the pit of his stomach. He had felt it before, but in a different lifetime it seemed. Was it love? How could it have been? He had never seen the woman before, but she seemed to also be so familiar to him. What was it about her that had stirred him to try to heal her? There was nothing remarkable about her that he could tell. Her hair was a common color of dirty blond, her eyes were a simple brown hue, and she wasn’t at all memorable for much else. Why did she bother him so much?
Eventually Dante figured it did not matter. She was dead, killed by his own hand. Any answers he could have found from her were gone with the ashes of her corpse.
“Dante,” a disembodied voice whispered in his ear, interrupting his thoughts.
Dante spun, searching for the source of the voice. His hand cautiously slipped to the hilt of his sword. The only thing that he saw was
his shadow and a startled bird in a branch overhead. Then his shadow moved of its own accord. Dante stared at it and took his hand off his sword. As soon as twin purple lights began to glow where the shadow’s eyes would be, he had his confirmation.
“Lord Death,” Dante breathed.
The purple lights narrowed, seemingly in agitation.
Dante nodded, saying, “Bring me to your side, then.”
His willingness to comply given, Dante was transported to a dark, shadow-filled world. The entire area around the demon was endless shadow and wisps of luminescent grey smoke rose from an unseen source. There seemed to be no up or down, left or right, yet this world seemed infinite. Dante had been here only once before, when Death had initially contacted him over half a century ago.
A cloaked figure approached from nowhere, drawing nearer to Dante. As the being came closer, Dante kneeled. It was less a physical movement than a spiritual one; everything in this world was ethereal and ghostly.
“Lord Death,” Dante repeated reverently.
“Dante,” the robed figure greeted. His whispered voice seemed to float through Dante’s very soul like the glowing smoke of the realm. “I see you’re back to your old self. It was almost mildly inconvenient dealing with things without you around. Good for you that you gathered your wits quickly.”
Dante nodded. “I apologize, Lord Death. I wasn’t expecting an angel to be so brash as to attack me on Earth. I don’t mean to sound… insubordinate, but I had thought you’d seen to it centuries ago that that law was put into practice.”
Death tilted his head in affirmation. “I did. And I was there with another agent of mine when the laws were written. We made certain the laws were strictly enforced.”
“I have killed the angel in any case,” Dante offered. “Of course, I’m sure you’re already aware of that.”
“I was not,” Death said in surprise. “I have reaped no angelic souls recently.”
“What?” Dante gasped. “How is that possible? I felt his heart stop!”
Death shook his hooded head and said, “It does not matter. If this angel comes after you again, you can easily take care of him. I have seen to that. Now, enough of this petty nuisance. I have need of your services once again.”
“To the east, as was the original plan?”
Death shook his hooded head. “Not quite. I am changing the plan based on new information I have been given. You are to go to Istros, in Romania. There, you will look for a single person. This mission is of utmost importance, therefore it must be carried out swiftly, and without any mistakes. Before, I had you eliminate entire settlements. This time, only one more human must die. This human’s death will end your employment with me.”
Dante nodded, understanding Death’s promise. He was more than willing to go back to his old life, or whatever was left of it after all these years, but working for Death had offered him much more than he had originally thought possible.
“Go, Dante,” Death commanded. “When you reach Istros, I will give you the information you will need to carry out your mission.” With that, the glowing smoke disappeared, leaving Dante in a world of pitch darkness.
Death stood alone for a moment, then turned, reigniting the luminous smoke. Dante was gone, sent away by Death to carry out his task.
“At least he knows to be respectful,” Artemis quipped from the side. He walked into a glowing smoke trail and revealed himself. Death knew the archangel had been there the whole time, looking in on Dante’s meeting.
“Arrogance is not one of his faults,” Death replied. “He knows his strengths, as well as his weaknesses. He is confident, yet humble when needed.”
Artemis nodded. “Yes, I know. I indirectly had a large role in his upbringing.”
“Why are you here?” Death asked impatiently.
“To ask you what you think you are doing. You’re the Reaper. With your power, you can easily do what you keep sending a demon to do. Why?”
Death sighed. “You remember the war,” he stated. “You remember what Earth was like before the war. Thus you should know why.”
Artemis chuckled. “I know why the human settlements had to be destroyed. I asked you why you had Dante do it rather than do it yourself.”
“Do you remember the last meeting between all of the world leaders?” Death asked.
Artemis nodded. “It was when we handed them the laws to be followed by their individual races.”
“Correct,” Death agreed. “King Osiris was given Hell’s laws, Lord Amun-Ra was given Heaven’s laws, and I took over Earth’s laws.” He trailed off and seemed to reminisce for a moment. “My job was so much simpler then. The humans were so primitive and childlike. Back then I could appear without causing panic. Now, however, I make an appearance, they think their ‘gods’ are angry. They have no idea who their true creators are. I sent Dante in my place to do what only a demon born outside of Hell can do. Technically, he is under no jurisdiction, so no laws can touch him. I sent him to destroy parts of my world so I could reap the souls of the damned and still break no laws or cause a panic, thus allowing more fruitful prosperity after the war to come...”
“Is he truly the first demon born away from Hell?” Artemis asked in mild surprise. He shrugged. “I would have thought there would be more, even in this time.”
“Me too, truth be told. But I know this for a fact, unfortunately. As the Reaper, I see every life, every death, and every outcome.”
“But why did you pick him? You plucked him from his own time. Why not do that with another?”
“You say I should have chosen Adrian? He was the second born out of Hell, after all. Or should I have found the third or fourth? Hundredth? Thousandth? No. Dante is not a normal demon. He has the usual bloodthirst, with all the murderous tendencies, but he also has the self-control to stop if he so chooses, unlike Adrian or any of the others. He doesn’t necessarily kill simply for fun like most other demons.”
“I don’t know,” Artemis shrugged. “I rather liked Adrian.”
Death shook his head in defeat. “You know why we could not use Adrian; he was too powerful. Dante was the weakest of them all so I chose him. His own demonic powers hadn’t fully awakened yet, so I gave him his current power. It was needed in order to allow him to level the human settlements quickly enough for me to reap the souls and use that power to cast my spell over the land.”
Satisfied, Artemis smiled. “Good enough for me. I was merely curious. After you took Dante from his home, I felt something was amiss, hence why I’m in this time period rather than my own. It is very risky, my being here. I run the risk of causing myself all manner of problems.” He turned to walk through a swirling purple and blue portal that formed behind him, but stopped and turned back to Death. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need you to locate Victor’s soul for me. He was not meant to die in this era, and I fear there may be… ramifications if not corrected quickly.” Artemis turned and stepped through the portal.
Death shook his head again. “Time is such a bother,” he sighed. He summoned a portal of his own and stepped through in search of the angel’s missing soul.
Dante found himself kneeling in the soft grass where Death had called him. He stood and continued along his way. Once he was out of the forest, he would go to Romania and find his final target. He wanted this mission to be over. He would gladly relinquish all the power Death had granted him if it meant he could go back to living his old life.
“It’s impossible, you know,” a voice stated behind him.
Surprised that anyone could have snuck up on him so easily, Dante drew his sword and whirled around, brandishing his blade as a clear warning to stay away.
There stood a man dressed in obsidian armor, with midnight feathered wings and a hellish sword strapped to his back.
“Artemis,” Dante spat. Seeing the archangel in his path brought unpleasant memories to the forefront of his mind. “Why are you here?”
Artemis stepped around Dante, keeping well out of t
he demon’s reach. He spread his hands to show he was there peaceably and not to threaten the demon. “I’m here to tell you something.”
“Spill it, then,” Dante growled.
“You cannot go back to your old life, Dante,” Artemis explained. “Whatever Death told you, you can’t have it all back when you finish your work here.”
“What do you mean?” Dante asked, growing confused by the second.
“You can’t get your parents back.”
Confusion melted back into anger. “You would bring that up,” Dante muttered. “It’s your fault, you know. You are the reason why my parents died in that war - that pointless, useless war. What did it accomplish?”
Artemis nodded, his expression grim and sad. “I know, Dante,” he whispered. “I know that I am to blame. If I could rewrite history, I would. I would bring them back myself so that you wouldn’t have to suffer through life the way you had to. Believe me, Nikolai and Sara were very dear to me too. But you can’t live in your grief forever, Dante. They are gone and you are still alive. You have so much more to do in this world. Know that once your task is done, Death will put you back into your own time, right when he took you in the first place. Just please don’t expect anything to be different. What happens in time cannot be changed.”
Dante absorbed all this, still fuming and ready to kill Artemis. The archangel had said the same thing about Dante’s parents back when they died. Yet the fact that Artemis was involved in their deaths was never denied. “Just leave me, Artemis. I lived my life without you around to help me. I can take care of myself. Go and find another godson.” With that, he turned and resumed his walk through the forest, leaving Artemis alone.
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