He was Lucifer.
Michael stood taller, taking a deep breath, and waited. The scraping sound drew nearer, and heavy, slow steps walked closer. Michael found he was craning his neck to see further and straightened out again. He heard a low, rumbling noise which rose in volume. A sick sound. Laughter, if you could call it that. If ever once his voice was beautiful, was that of an archangel, it was long buried under eons of disuse.
A shade emerged from the blackness within the cage, drawing closer. It stopped just before the light and waited.
“. . .Once. . .I called you. . .brother. . .you wretch. . .”
“Silence, monster!” shouted Michael, “You. . . you who destroyed the world. . .who caused us to fall! You, who separated us from our Father, from all that we knew. . . from the great Celestial Kingdom!”
Michael stopped, containing his rage. If only the seraphim were back, he could kill this creature where he stood. As it was, he could only shake internally with his sheer, unadulterated hatred for the one who destroyed everything he had loved.
“I have come only to satisfy myself of your suffering,” said Michael, intending to be cruel. It went against his nature, as he was built to be a creature of compassion. But at this moment, he felt the evil seeping forward and saturating him. Polluting him. Michael made a sound of disgust and turned to leave. He met Gabriel’s eyes and saw that Gabriel was without words, perhaps without reason. Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed, his wings shuddered with emotion. “Brother,” he whispered, walking forward. He took Gabriel’s arm, squeezing it roughly and giving him a determined stare. “Do not lose yourself to his evil. You are an archangel of the Divine Council. You are free, and he is not. There is nothing to fear. Come,” he said, trying to leave. Gabriel stood, frozen to the spot.
“. . .you come. . . because you were compelled by some . . .reason. . . of great import. . . Azrael. . .” Lucifer whispered, a low and deadly sound. Michael turned back at the mention of Azrael’s name, despite his wish to leave. He could not discount the possibility that Lucifer possessed some power yet, that he could have received visions of what was transpiring in the world above.
The shaded figure moved forward into the light. It took all his strength not to gasp at the sight. Lucifer’s face touched on the small patch of illumination in his cell, revealing only a small piece of his face. His white skin glared brightly against the low light, his silver eyes flashed like crystalline ore. He shifted his wings, and Michael saw the massive, torus-shaped chain-links draped over his body, which explained the scraping sound earlier. When Lucifer tried to adjust his wings, the top of one came into view, the part under the chain was bald and worn down to near the bone. The identifying white of the archangel wings could be seen, but what remained of his feathers were stained and damaged, eras of disuse apparent.
Michael felt himself cringe at the sight.
“. . .ahhh. . .. yesss. . .” purred Lucifer, his eyes narrowed as though he was a serpent about to strike. “. . .Azrael has . . .found...something of great use. . .to me. . .”
Michael eyed Lucifer, attempting with all his might to convey confidence as opposed to his inclination towards fear in the face of this great, epic monster. For that was all he was, now. A hideous beast, lurking in the shadows of a dungeon meant to hold him forever.
Despite the chains, Lucifer moved to strike out, testing the bars to see if Azrael had, in fact, opened his prison. A stunning sound was heard, a flash of light so bright they all gasped in pain and cover their faces protectively. Lucifer recoiled, hissing angrily and taking his place back in the dim light. The invisible barrier was still firmly in place.
“. . .Michael. . .” he hissed, “. . .you are . . .I will. . .rip out your heart. . ..one day. . ..and feed it to you while Gabriel watches. . .”
Lucifer laughed again, the sound of it causing immediate nausea and a sensation of insects crawling under Michael’s skin.
“It seems your threats are empty, Brother,” Michael spat back vengefully, “and if the day ever comes that we meet outside these walls, it will be I who kills you.”
Michael turned, walking out of the room. Gabriel followed, the sound of Lucifer snarling in outrage to be left, trapped in this place, disappearing behind them.
Michael realized he was breathing heavily. They stopped as soon as they were out of earshot of the creature trapped in the room beyond and looked at each other meaningfully. It had been a momentous occasion, terrifying and upsetting. Michael had wished to kill Lucifer on the spot, but a sword alone would not do the job. Only a Seraph could kill the First. Gabriel had never looked as he did now, his eyes wide and his wings shuddering. Many thoughts could be seen flashing through his eyes, and Michael gripped his Brother’s arm, willing him strength. Their mission had been necessary, proving that Lucifer was still out of Azrael’s reach, at least for the moment.
He had to return. He had to find Larin.
Ephreim took me back down the stairs that led to the maze of underground corridors under the Keep. The touch of his hand on my arm invoked physical sickness, and I yanked as hard as I could to get him to release me, but his grip was ironclad.
“You’re a fool, Ephreim,” I shouted at him. “You’re nothing to Azrael! Did you not see? He doesn’t care anything about you! There’s no loyalty there! You’re just a creature to him that is no better than common vermin. Did you not see?” He continued to ignore me, and I pressed my luck as much as I dared. “You’re a slave!” I cried, feeling some satisfaction as I saw his jaw harden in response to my taunts. His silence spoke louder than words, and I grinned at him. “Azrael is tired of you, you know. He wants me to take your place. Let me go before it’s too late, and I’ll leave! You can still have a chance!”
Ephreim let go of my arm and grabbed me roughly at the back of my neck, pushing my head down as we walked. I gasped and wheezed, the pain of my earlier assaults not approving of this new position. I tripped, and Ephreim lifted me up by the back of the neck like a dog carrying its pup along. It accomplished his goal, though, as I could not speak further in this position. His fingers sank into the wounds already on my neck from my earlier attack, and I cringed against the pain, fighting the urge to whimper and give him any satisfaction. We rounded a corner and he snapped his fingers at two waiting guards. They ran up to us, stomping their boots as they came to a stop in front of us. I could only see their feet from this position and saw from the red spots on the floor that my nose had started bleeding again.
“Take this bitch to her room,” Ephreim said, throwing me at them. They caught me by the arms, and I turned and glared at him hatefully. All my fear of him at this moment was gone. I could only imagine running him through with a sword – and enjoying it.
“I’ll kill you soon, Ephreim. I should have done it back there, but the next chance I get I promise you, you son of a -” he walked forward and slapped me hard across the face. The slap was meant to degrade and humiliate, not to wound. I looked at him with my good eye in outrage.
“Shut. Up,” he snarled, but I refused to look away. He spat in my face and looked at me with a hint of satisfaction as I couldn’t help grimacing in disgust. He turned on his heel and strode away, and the guards resumed marching me down the hall.
I was thrown unceremoniously into my room as the door was slammed behind me. Between my swollen eye and my injured wings, I had lost my sense of equilibrium and fell roughly onto the floor, rolling over onto my side and gasping in pain as the full weight of my body came to rest on my broken ribs. I pushed myself over, crying out, laying in an awkward position with my wings in an even more awkward angle. I gave up, laying where I was, trying not to pass out again. I knew I needed to think, to figure out a way to escape. At the same time, I knew any plan I made would be in vain. I was going to die in this place.
I continued to lay on the floor, my eyes closed, thinking back to what Azrael had said about the darkness I already knew resided within me. I knew I should have been surprised at the force of my
hatred, that I had only been a fraction away from killing another living, breathing creature, but I wasn’t. I had felt my anger, my rage within me. . . and if I was being honest with myself, it had been there much longer than my time as a vessel. I had grown over the years to hate my father, my life. I’m not entirely sure that I wouldn’t have attacked him as I did without having been traumatized by the death of Sam or the emergence of my wings. I think if I had seen my father dead on the floor on any other day, I would have done the exact same thing.
I refused to think it meant I was capable of the evil Azrael believed he saw in me. I refused to believe I was capable of the horrors he and his minions performed to others.
I refused to be a tool for him to achieve whatever dark objectives he had in mind for me. I didn’t know what powers I may have inside me if I was the Herald, but I resolved to ensure he could never exploit them. It suddenly struck me I may not have a choice.
I painfully made my way to my feet, looking around the room. The bowl of water still stood on the table, and I eyed it. It was made of hollowed out stone but appeared thin enough to break. I picked it up, smashing it downwards as hard as I could. Sure enough, it exploded into pieces on the ground. I picked up the sharpest looking shard I could find, turning it over in my hand. It would work.
I knew I had to take my life before Azrael could use me to destroy the world.
I walked slowly over to the bed, shaking from head to toe. I felt deathly afraid, but more than that, I felt such profound sadness knowing that I could not say goodbye to Michael. His thought made me burst into tears, imagining his gentle dark eyes as they looked at me tenderly. We could have had all the time in the world. Forever, had things been different. But they weren’t. Michael and I were out of time.
More specifically, I was out of time. Azrael had almost succeeded in causing me to perform a monstrous act, something that would have potentially changed me forever. His words were powerful, and he knew exactly how to speak to the demons that hid within me – to pull them forward. What he had said about my darkness was true. But it was also true that goodness was a choice. I refused to submit to his will. I thought again to Michael, and I hoped beyond all hope he continued to fight when I was gone. To stare evil in the face and wipe it out. To kill Azrael.
I held the shard to my wrist, ignoring my tears. I had no other regret in what I knew I needed to do. I just wished I could look upon Michael’s face once more.
Be strong, I willed myself. You can do this. This is how it has to be.
The door of the room burst open and Ephreim strode in, looking over his shoulder. He was holding a large bag of burlap and threw it at me. In my shock at his entrance, I had leapt upwards, the shard falling to the ground and making a rattling noise as it came to rest on an uneven surface. I blinked, then lunged for it, grasping it with both hands and holding it out toward Ephreim with shaking arms.
He stormed towards me, grabbing my wrist and wrenching it upward until I let go of the shard, crying out in pain. I yelped as it fell harmlessly to the ground.
“Would you shut your mouth?” he hissed at me in low tones. “I’m here to get you out, but if you scream like a coward you will get us both killed.”
I looked at him in shock. “You’re. . . what?” I asked, not comprehending.
“Stand still, I’m putting this bag over you. Two others are defecting and will take you back to the Citadel. I know they have been meaning to escape for some time. They have welcomed the chance to do so now as bringing you back means they can gain entry to the Citadel through you. None can access the Citadel unless they are members of the Council Order or accompanied by one,” he said with professional tones. I didn’t know that and blinked in surprise. It made sense that the Citadel had stood protected for so long. I wondered what beings had wrought the enchantment. They must have been incredibly powerful. I felt my mind start to lose its grip on consciousness and forced my focus back to the matter at hand.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice raspy from pain and exhaustion.
“I am not helping you, idiot,” he said harshly. “I’m helping myself. I would gladly kill you instead, but it is too obvious who would be the culprit. Escape is much easier to explain away. Now focus, cockroach,” he snarled, and I resisted the urge to return the insult, “In exchange for this they have asked that you promise them asylum.” I nodded, pretending as though it was within my power to grant. Ephreim scoffed. “I do not care what happens to them, but you had better pretend that you do. Now, do as I said and shut up. Oh, and one more thing,” he growled as he came in close to my face, “you had better pray that Azrael never finds out that I was the instrument of your escape, or I will make you wish you were dead.” My heart beat rapidly in my chest, and I nodded at him again. I didn’t care a thing for what happened to him, just as he cared nothing for me.
“You’re sure this will work?” I hesitantly asked.
“I’ve instructed them on exactly what to say. The patrols will let them through.”
I continued to stare at him with wide eyes as he lowered the bag over my head and wings. He gave a sharp yank at the bottom and I yelped as my feet went out from under me, my head striking the ground as I was simultaneously slung over Ephreim’s shoulder. I bit my lip harshly against further noise, swallowing my pain. I tried instead to focus on my joy at the thought to be reunited with Michael again, and my heart leapt at the thought so much so I could feel tears spilling down my cheeks. I felt a shiver of realization at what I had been about to do, only seconds before Ephreim had come into my room. Had he known, I would have saved him a lot of trouble. I pushed the thought away, trying instead not to cry out in pain as I was handed over to another vessel and jostled about, the new one carrying me focused only on escape, not my comfort.
After a time, we came up short. I heard voices demanding our purpose. The vessel responded with something about delivering gifts to the Informant on Azrael’s orders, or something like that, as it was difficult to hear between the throbbing in my ears and the ruffling of material between us. I held my breath, begging silently for them to buy whatever lies they were being told. It seemed to work, and after a time I felt us lift off in flight.
I refused to do so much as breathe until I felt the heat from the fires of Solomanta fading behind us, as the coolness of the cave returned in force. The normal warmth of early fall could be felt upon me eventually, and I could see sunlight trying to make its way through the burlap. We flew for what felt like a long time. I think I actually slept for a good part of it, coming in and out of consciousness, and even the pain I had been feeling earlier seemed to be dulling as I knew we drew closer to home.
I came to awareness at some point after we touched down. I thought we were home, and I punched around, feeling for the opening of the bag.
“Let me out,” I demanded weakly. The bag opened and was pulled back from my face. Two vessels I had never seen before gazed at me with mingled looks of curiosity and hope.
“There here is Lyric, and I’m Robert,” said Robert with a thick Irish accent. Lyric, a young female with red hair much the same as Chase along with a smattering of freckles, smiled at me and nodded.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said. She looked so similar to Chase I had to do a double take.
“Nice to. . .meet you. . .” I replied, looking at both with some suspicion. I still felt this was all too good to be true.
“We are so grateful to ye,” said Robert, looking at me sincerely. “We have been trying to get out of there since. . .well, too long,” he said. Lyric nodded fervently in agreement.
“Azrael doesn’t take kindly to deserters. It’s terrible. Once you are captured by the Gatherers, you’re taken to Solomanta for processing. . . if you fight them....” she gulped, visibly, and shook her head with her eyes closed. I could only imagine. “Ephreim caught us trying to escape. We thought we were done for. Then he told us about you,” she paused and eyed me appraisingly, “he told us it w
as our lucky day. Boy, was that the truth!” Lyric grinned at Robert, and smiled back, before both turned to look at me again with relief in their faces.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I croaked weakly. “You saved my life.” I started to close my eyes, feeling unbearably tired.
“You’re really hurt,” Lyric noted unnecessarily. “We have to get you back to the Citadel. The only problem is that we don’t know the way.” I opened my eyes, staring at her in surprise. If they didn’t know the way, how was I expected to find my way back? I groaned, but then stopped. I realized I did know the way. I looked to the east and pointed in the direction I knew the Citadel to be.
“That’s so strange,” I said quietly. “I’ve never left before I was captured, but I know how to get back as though I’ve come and gone from there a million times before.”
Robert grinned. “There is a lot of strange about this life,” he said. “Let’s get ye home.” Unable to fly, Robert picked me up in his large arms and we took off. I led the way, hoping my strength kept up long enough to get us there in one piece. When I saw the mountains coming into view, I nearly sobbed.
“It’s there,” I managed despite my failing strength, and pointed at the familiar sight as Robert and Lyric whooped in happiness. A Citadel watch party had noted our approach and came to meet us, swords drawn.
“We have the Herald!” cried Lyric, holding up her hands in a symbol of peace. A guard flew in to inspect my face, a look of shock in his eyes when he verified it was really me. He turned and snapped orders to the others, and one of them turned quickly to fly ahead to inform the Citadel. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but my joy thinking about being reunited with Michael gave me a surge of strength.
I didn’t have to wait long. The sound of wild flapping and voices signified the approach of several vessels at once. I felt arms snatch me away from Robert, and I looked around to see Michael, his face staring at me with an incredulous expression. I could hear Raphael barking orders at the others to take Lyric and Robert to be questioned and thought weakly to say something on their behalves, but I found I lacked the strength.
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