It was blinding in its brilliance, overwhelmingly warm. The light was strange here – soft, though at the same time so bright that I felt it should have seared my skin. I held open my hands, looking at them curiously. They seemed nearly translucent, glowing softly. No, radiating softly.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, a feeling a warmth and perfect security wash over me, and I smiled. I hugged my arms around myself, wrapping my wings around me at the same time like a blanket. I ran my hands over them, relieved to find them attached to my body. Perfect and black as night. They absorbed the light and seemed to glow with it, here in this strange place.
I looked around and saw the glimmering white orbs, moving upwards and touching lightly against whatever surfaces they encountered, as though they were entities with their own gentle life forces. I felt completely at peace, here, the weight of the world I had known fading behind me as though nothing more than dreams of the past. Of a place and a time that didn’t matter anymore.
I smiled, breathing in the sweet scents around me, fragrances I had no names for but knew well. I walked forward a few steps, smiling as grass and moss sprung upwards under my steps. Greenery of a beautiful, deep hue grew slowly up around my legs, vines unraveling and uncoiling to reveal delicate blooms of spring flowers. I let it do as it would, knowing I could walk freely if I so wished it. I closed my eyes again, turning my face back towards the source of the light, letting it wash over me as though cleansing me where I stood. There were no cares here, no worries or desires not met. I was home, and that was all that mattered.
I opened my eyes and saw a figure in front of me, its back turned. I saw it was a man, and I felt I knew him. He was dressed in the grays and whites of the Citadel, and I noticed suddenly that his feet – bare – were burnt, as though he had walked through the coals of a fire. I frowned, wanting to go to him. I felt his will stop me. He did not need to speak, but I still heard him communicate without words. He was not in distress, my fear for him unnecessary.
I have walked a great distance. . . he sighed, into my mind. Still, he would not turn to look at me. I heard his words, although there was no voice behind them.
I find. . . my feet can take me no further.
I shook my head, not understanding. I walked towards him, but suddenly the vines tightened, and I was stuck in place. I felt my heartbeat in my ears and looked around in confusion.
Will you finish what was started?
I noticed a serpent had slithered out of the bushes near his feet, making its way lazily towards him.
Its tongue flicked in and out quickly, tasting the air. It turned its head towards me and I noticed its eyes, intelligent and. . .hostile. It meant to do harm. I looked anxiously back at the man, watching in horror as the snake drew closer. I wanted to warn him, to stop it. I held out my hand but found I couldn’t speak.
The serpent reached his legs, slithering up around one slowly, drawing upwards, circling his waist, his back. . . I tried to scream, but it was futile. I was paralyzed.
Will you. . .
The snake reached his throat and opened its mouth to strike. The man turned to look at me, and I gasped.
Larin. . .
“Larin!!!” I heard, and I blinked rapidly. There was much commotion. I became aware of searing pain in my body, and I was dripping with sweat. Michael was saying my name, but a loud buzzing sound made his voice come in and out of my consciousness. I felt deathly ill, sick in the body and the spirit. I was physically lighter, and I knew something was very wrong.
I cried out in pain, as more hands moved me, binding me tightly.
“She’s back,” a voice said, “she lives,” and there was more movement, more commotion. I thought to wave them all away, to sit up, but my hands were being held down. I realized I was laying on my stomach, my face pushed painfully against a cold surface while they worked on my back.
Suddenly I realized, and I sobbed. My wings. My wings.
They were gone.
I wept, realizing that nothing was worth living for anymore. I wanted to die right there, for my life to be over. I heard Michael in the background, begging me to keep my eyes open. To live. My heart ached for Michael, but my vitality, my essence had been stolen. The last of it was slipping away from me. . .and slowly I stopped caring. The ache in my heart for Michael’s pain was dulling, and I felt my eyes glaze over with apathy. I felt as though nothing was worth living for anymore. Nothing.
I felt as though I was adrift at sea. I closed my eyes, hoping it would be for the last time.
I opened my eyes, staring blankly into the space beyond.
I had been taken back to my room, wrapped in bandages and salves. There was nothing more they could do for me, I had heard them say. It meant nothing, just words, as meaningless as I felt my life had now become. Michael’s face had come into view, kneeling beside me and taking my hand, bringing it to his lips with his eyes squeezed shut tightly, tears upon his cheeks. He spoke but it made no difference. Not now. I did not try to respond to questions, to speak. There was nothing to be said.
He begged me to fight, to resist the sense of nothingness that fell upon vessels who lost their wings, their élan vital. I merely blinked, my empty eyes staring back at him without expression. I was still there, somewhere. . . the back of my mind registering things, understanding, but it was as if someone had pushed the mute button on life. I was watching it as it happened, but without fully engaging in the subject.
I remembered vaguely what Chase had told me once. What he had shown me. Lira and Goldwyn. I realized now what they had become, how they had become that way. It seemed it was true. Losing your wings was worse than death. I felt alive, but barely. I knew Michael was with me, could feel his pain, but only dully. As though I was numbed by strong sedatives. But I was not. A vessel’s wings were their hearts, the things upon which their life force depended. Their bodies were built around them. Taking off in flight for the first time was the final point in the imprinting process. Once it had been done, there was no going back. Losing your wings was akin to losing your very reason for being.
I knew I should fight, that I should be brave. But it seemed that nothing had a point that was worthwhile, anymore. I saw Raphael and Uriel in the background, their faces blank with shock. Trying to comprehend what had happened. Trying to understand how Gabriel could have turned so very blackly evil.
Chase was there, I think. He’d been asked to come from what I could understand. To see if he could rouse me out of my stupor. They all knew it was pointless though. What happened to vessels without wings? It seems I had avoided the fever of the awakening, the failure of the first jump – but not even I was not immune to the effects of the absence of the soul when removed from its body.
Chase was overcome with guilt that he had left me, that he had gone off to do Gabriel’s bidding when Michael had trusted him to stay by my side. I watched without interest as Michael raged against him, looking for someone to blame. The others in the room had cowered, but Chase stood with his head bowed, waiting for Michael’s sword and not making excuses for his life. He blamed himself, too, and believed Michael was justified in every word he yelled. Raphael and Tristan had eased Chase from the room, uttering words of comfort to him. It was not his fault, they had said. Michael was mad at the moment. He would recover in time.
They all knew I would not, however, and they left Michael to grieve at my side as I watched him, holding my hand and coaxing me gently, and sometimes not so gently, with words to come back to him. It was useless though.
I was lost.
Several weeks had passed since Gabriel had arrived at Solomanta, expecting celebration at his triumph. He had done the impossible.
The conversation when he arrived, however, had not gone as he had anticipated.
“Fool!” cried Azrael, walking angrily up to Gabriel and stopping only within inches of his face. “You should have brought the girl before you separated her wings from her body! Now we have lost her forever!”
Azrael turned to walk away, but suddenly whipped around and struck Gabriel viciously across the face. Gabriel scowled at the assault, keeping his face down momentarily as he worked to calm himself. He spat blood and turned to glare at Azrael.
“You have your precious wings,” he snarled, “let us take them to Leviathan and receive counsel on how to gain access to the Disc before the seraphim return, assuming Larin is confirmed to be the Herald.”
Azrael glowered at Gabriel, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.
“Pah!” he shouted dismissively. “We need to free our brother,” he stormed, circling his throne angrily. “The Disc is worthless if the seraphim return and Lucifer remains in captivity! You and I together do not have the power he wields. Other than a Seraph, he is the only one who can use the Disc!”
Gabriel had told Azrael where Lucifer lay, hidden out of sight at the bottom of the world. It was all Azrael could do to contain his excitement at the discovery. Michael’s blind trust of Gabriel had resulted in a tremendous tactical disadvantage for the Citadel. Azrael needed only to discover the means of breaking the bonds that held him, something he knew he would learn in time, and then their brother would be free. The trick was to discover the means before the seraphim could be brought back, the only creatures in existence who could defeat Lucifer. And for the moment there was no way he could infiltrate the prison safely. The Council, or what remained of them, would be waiting for them to make such a move. He could risk nothing to compromise their advantage at this point. Azrael was so close to attaining his goal, he could taste it.
Plans were discussed, rejected, and discussed again. Afraid of retribution and attempts to hinder their return to Leviathan’s lair, or worse yet, to find the creature through them and destroy it before they could learn the truth of the girl and what their next steps should be, Azrael and Gabriel had waited. When they felt they could wait no longer, they had made the journey to the deep cavern where Leviathan had hidden undisturbed for eons after the fall, until Azrael had found him.
Now, they stood, the feathers falling haphazardly around them on the banks of the shore, the wings now dead things slowly decaying. Gabriel watched without expression as Azrael took the girl’s wings and tossed them, one first, and then the other, towards the murky water. Before they could land, however, two coiled arms snaked out and snatched the wings, and pulled them below the surface.
There was silence for a moment, and then a great commotion as the creature reacted to the gift, and the knowledge they contained. Light radiated straight upwards from the water, pillars of liquid shot into the air as though electrified. Gabriel and Azrael leapt back in surprise, listening to the hissing and groaning that was being emitted outwards.
“Speak, creature!” shouted Azrael, unable to contain himself any longer.
“Tell us! Is the girl the Herald? Does this mean the return of the seraphim is at hand?” he cried.
The creature stopped, the water suddenly silent again as the pillars it had created dropped downward as suddenly as they had been projected. Blackness came over the cavern again, and the roiling of coils under the surface stopped.
“Speak!” Azrael shouted again.
“. . .Herald. . .”
“. . .it is. . ..”
“. . .the girl. . .”
“She is. . ..”
“The wings...”
“. . .the girl. . .is the Herald. . .” it whispered in a thousand voices.
Azrael and Gabriel looked at each other sharply, the implications running through their minds simultaneously. They had already suspected the girl was the Herald, but something about the confirmation made the various possible realities something tangible.
“. . .know this. . .”
“. . .know this Azrael. . .”
“. . .Azrael. . .”
“. . .the blood of one shall bring forth the other. . .”
“. . .the other. . .”
Azrael glanced at Gabriel, who swallowed, shaking his head. “Are you saying. . .are you saying it is her blood that is the key. . .to awaken the seraphim?” Azrael asked lowly, and the creature growled hungrily, the coils churning under the water. They slowly receded further under the surface as the pair watched. The creature would not say more, still angry with Azrael for his earlier insults.
It had its prize, for now. The wings of the great Herald. It was satisfied.
“We must away,” snapped Azrael and Gabriel nodded. They leapt into the air, flying wildly back to Solomanta to raise their forces and prepare for battle.
They did not hear the murky, sinister laughter from the shallows before the creature recoiled further into the deep.
“. . .Larin. . .will you finish what was started. . .”
The face stared at me in the clearing, asking me the same question. I watched in horror again as the snake reared back, its long fangs dripping hungrily as it made to lunge for his throat. . .
“No!” I cried, sitting up, awake. Michael rushed forward to the bedside, taking my hand and looking urgently in my face. I had to tell him, but I could feel the burst of life that had been injected into me slowly receding back. . .fading. . .
“Larin,” he whispered, “what have you seen? Tell me,” he whispered, squeezing my hand. “Tell me, do not give up again. . .” I sank back into the pillows, feeling the numbness of my reality climbing slowly up my body. Without my wings, it was as though my body had collapsed in on itself like a dying star.
“Do not leave me,” he said quietly, turning his face down into my hand in defeat and heaving a sigh. I felt his lips on my palm, soft and full. I looked at him, knowing I could not bear his sadness, but the nothingness was heavy. It was stronger than my will. I struggled against it, the feeling of nothingness inside of me. I looked at him once more, knowing I had loved him, once. I had felt a fire in my heart for the one who knelt beside me now. I owed him. I had to try. . .
“A snake,” I whispered, fighting with everything within me to manage the words. “. . .poised to strike. . . its fangs curved. . .”
Michael had snapped his head up at my words, searching my face as the light left it again, for good. I turned away, staring off into the room dully. Michael turned and yelled for a guard.
“Lord,” one said, rushing into the room and standing at attention. Michael did not let go of my hand but turned his head to the guard and demanded he fetch the war council to my chambers. The guard nodded tightly, stomping his boot and turning quickly to leave. Michael looked at me again, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from my face. The action reminded me of something from some other time. It, like everything else, didn’t matter anymore. I closed my eyes, feeling tired.
Raphael and Uriel entered the room. I didn’t look at them but could feel their own exhaustion.
They often spoke at length in my room, as I lay staring blankly ahead. Michael refused to leave my side unless there was something of great urgency he had to attend to personally, and the others had grown used to having discussions of Citadel matters by my bedside. There had been countless hours of discussion, strategizing. Parties with vessels who had been thoroughly vetted and trusted had been dispatched to guard the entrance to Lucifer’s prison. It seemed unnecessary now to hide his location, as Gabriel would have undoubtedly told Azrael of all he had seen there. Michael had been wracked with guilt and anger for ignoring the warning of the Guardian long ago, but he had trusted Gabriel with his life. If he could not trust him, then truly who could he trust? It had been a daunting thought, but the Council accepted
the reality now that it was only a matter of time before the armies of evil found a means of freeing their fallen General. The collection of the newly-awakened had been stepped up considerably, and training had been accelerated in earnest. It seemed war in the near future was inevitable, and the world had already started to change.
I heard of the stories of the humans who had learned of the strange beings with black wings. Creatures of their own flesh now changed, monstrous. The Citadel worked tirelessly to contain the damage, but their resources were strained and stretched. The enchantment of the place that made their location secret was the only thing that had kept Azrael’s forces at bay, knowing as they did there could be countless more amassing away from the eyes of their spies. But his army was stronger. If he found the Disc and managed to free Lucifer, the end of the world would be a near certainty.
The knowledge of this blackness, of impending doom, infiltrated all of the Citadel residents, the remaining Council included. With Michael’s attention preoccupied, they continued to fight to contain the damage where they could, avoiding the eyes of the humans, and continue on their course. To say morale was low would be an understatement, yet the fight – their purpose, was all they knew. They would see it out until the end, no matter how their actions, and losing Gabriel, may have unwittingly expedited it.
Tristan arrived with Iris and Greyson, their faces dark and drawn. They had been training the vessels endlessly while simultaneously being tasked with journeys of great import to places of Old, seeking answers. Leads. Any magic that may help to frustrate Azrael’s mission. Chase had been pouring over old texts with Lyric and a crew of others, searching for anything of value in using me - or what little was left of me, to find the seraphim, man’s last hope.
“Brother,” said Raphael tiredly. “You summoned us?”
Herald Page 30