The white beam barriers disappeared and left the others vulnerable once again. Caedmon ran over to Aili and picked her up. Ehreion emerged from the house on the road’s right side, bloody and confused. Ireli raced out of an alleyway to their left.
“What was that?” Ireli said.
Ehreion shook his head. “Saved my skin, whatever it was.”
“Look,” Aili gasped.
They all looked toward Faolan, a sight of wonder and terror. Faolan was still looking down at Telfaldetrous’s body. His wings were spread high overhead.
“We should go,” Caedmon said.
“What about Faolan?” Aili cried.
“Is that still Faolan?” Ireli gasped.
“Yes!” Aili exclaimed. “We cannot just leave him like that.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Ehreion asked.
“Faolan!” Aili shouted.
“Quiet!” Caedmon said. “I have never seen anything such as him before.”
“Faolan!” Aili shouted.
Faolan did not react to Aili’s cry.
“Come on.” Caedmon hoisted Aili onto his shoulder.
“Put me down!” Aili shouted. “We cannot leave him!”
“We have to,” Caedmon said. “It is too dangerous.”
“No!” Aili screamed. “Faolan! Faolan, I love you!”
Caedmon started to run away from the angel. “Come on, you two!”
The wolf guardian carried both Aili and Deraj on his shoulders. Ehreion picked up Gavina’s lifeless body, though he hesitated as he shifted his eyes back and forth between Faolan and Caedmon’s fleeing form, not knowing what to do. He did not really want to leave Faolan standing there but was uncertain what afflicted the guardian.
“Come on, Ehreion. I do not think we can help him,” Ireli said as she saw the dwarf’s concerned hesitation.
Ireli ran after Caedmon, leaving the terrifying scene behind.
Ehreion hesitated still.
“Faolan!” Ehreion shouted. “Faolan!”
The Shadow Guardian’s head turned toward the dwarf, and those contrasting eyes unsettled the dwarf. The way Faolan was staring at him provided Ehreion with the confirmation he needed.
That was no longer Faolan.
The winged creature was someone else, no longer the elf scout he once knew from Darnum. Faolan was lost, and Ehreion’s heart sank.
The dwarf turned and ran away from the unfamiliar being as it returned its focus to the dead body before it. An aura of seething rage consumed the winged warrior.
Chapter 23
Waremasu’s Destruction
A fallen one who has not truly descended to the depths and embraced the darkness is capable of dying. They can become ‘unwritten’ unto oblivion. They do not belong to either Heaven or Hell, neither will claim them.
The Ikalreev Prophecies 8:21–23
A five-year-old girl quivered in her older brother’s arms. Being a good older brother, he tried to keep his sister as calm as he could. They had been separated from their parents during the chaos of battle.
The siblings were huddled behind a stack of military supply crates outside the inner wall a fair distance from the gates. They tried their best to stay hidden and to suppress their cries, but the demons were growing near. They were both terrified, and the boy covered his sister’s eyes as the horrid creatures tore apart buildings and dead bodies.
Swiftly, a person flashed into sight, right in front of them. His back was turned to them, and a unique character was seen on the back of his black-and-white cloak.
Waremasu stood before the siblings as a gale rushed around them, his wind wake pushing his cloak to one side and causing it to whip wildly. Waremasu knew the children were hiding behind him. He would allow no harm to come to the children, and so Waremasu stood before the fury of Hell itself to protect what innocence was left in the world.
An emotionless air surrounded Waremasu. He stood without apparent care or preparation. His sword was unsheathed yet his grip was loose, and the blade hung next to him as it nearly scraped the ground. He watched as the demons’ numbers continued to grow and filter through the destroyed outer gates.
He was a statue in a violent storm, solemn and steadfast. The natural wind gusted and blew Waremasu’s conical hat off his head, and for the first time, his face was revealed for all in sight to view.
His skin was a soft peach color, and he had short, spiky black hair, an appearance characteristic of the people he once defended in Zhecol.
He had a strong, relaxed expression for all who gazed at him. His face was clean and unscarred. The only thing revealing his inhuman heritage were his eyes: black sclerae and continually color-changing irises.
The evil beings gazed at him and recognized who he was, hissing and roaring in rage.
The children cried out in fear, and Waremasu’s head slowly swiveled around, seeing their terrified expressions. He walked the short distance to the children and knelt beside them, so he was eye level with the young boy.
His piercing eyes caused the unsure boy to shift nervously. A finger rose before Waremasu’s lips as a warning to the children to remain silent. He motioned to them to plug their ears, so they would not hear the horrid sounds soon to come. Then Waremasu demonstrated closing his eyes with two fingers and pointed to them both to mimic his actions.
It took a moment, but the boy understood. He whispered to his sister to remain quiet and do as the man instructed. The boy looked back to the stranger in confirmation before doing the same.
Waremasu stood up and walked back to his original position. His resolve was absolute. He would protect the children, perhaps the last innocents in this dying world.
He had failed the Divine One before. So many regrets plagued his mind as he believed he had caused this, all of this. The only thing greater than his hate for himself was the will to protect those who he forsook. He would stand against the might of the entire underworld, though he knew oblivion was near.
Waremasu watched as the evil horde grew in numbers yet his mind was distant. He watched them, but he did not see them. His focus was elsewhere. Cares and worry had no hold over him. He closed his eyes and tuned into the cooling wind rushing over his face as a deep breath flowed into his lungs, and his inner voices grew silent.
His katana hung loosely in his grasp, lightening as he drifted in pleasant thoughts. The nightmarish scene unfolded before him but briefly gave way to a fleeting moment of inner peace.
The little boy hiding behind the boxes grew increasingly frightened. He believed the stranger might leave them behind. He peeked through the cracks of his hands, and he did not see the man. The little boy’s heart jumped, and he peeked over the top of the boxes. His blue eyes came to rest on the cloaked pillar standing motionless beyond their hiding place.
Curiosity rolled into the young human’s mind. The boy was unsure of the stranger’s plan, and he began to worry for the man’s safety. The monstrosities grew ever closer, in overwhelming numbers. The boy uneasily shifted as the stranger’s blade continued to hang beside him.
The boy began to stand as he felt the need to cry out to the stranger. The boy felt the man might let the demons kill him. Yet at that moment, Waremasu vanished without warning. The child witnessed with widening eyes as each demon from left to right on the entire front line obtained a deep cut across their abdomens as if a blade had run through them all in a single swing.
Not a second after the last demon was cut, Waremasu appeared once again before the boy and took up the same foreboding stance. The boy saw a black liquid covering the katana, slowly dripping from the sword’s sharp tip.
The boy then noticed the injured demons’ motion as they all finally fell, lifeless, on the cold stone. In sheer wonder, the boy gasped at the unbelievable speed at which the stranger had moved in order to be standing in front of him again before the first demon had fallen to its knees.
The boy was in awe and found it breathtaking that a single cut from the man’s slender b
lade could bring down such fearsome beings.
As the demons’ second line stepped over the first line’s lifeless bodies, Waremasu vanished a second time. The demons’ second line suffered wounds like the first, and then the stranger reappeared before the boy, as unwavering as before. A second later, the demons’ second line ungracefully collapsed to the ground.
The young human plugged his ears as the cacophonous howls of the dying reached him. The boy gazed at the stranger’s towering form in wonder.
The man was different from anyone the boy had ever laid his eyes on. A bit of hope trickled into the little boy’s heart as Waremasu vanished for a third time.
This time, a shorter time passed before Waremasu reappeared. The demons’ third line collapsed, and their final screams were unsettling to the child even though his fingers plugged his ears.
Waremasu attacked again and again. He struck down line after line. His speed exponentially increased with each consecutive attack, and at one point, the boy believed the stranger was no longer moving as line after line of demons continued to fall, but the stranger seemed to be standing still and gazing out upon the battlefield. The scene was a sight to behold, and the boy was in awe.
Waremasu’s next attack came, though that millisecond of time was different when he returned. He collapsed on one knee and glanced down at his right leg, noticing a tear in his cloak. He separated the edges of the torn fabric and found a fresh injury, a foolish error, caused by carelessness.
Waremasu drove his katana into the ground and hoisted himself back up onto both feet. He did not feel pain; only a sensation of weakness flowed through his leg. The feeling was a distant dissociation and dissimilar to anything he had felt before. He paid no mind to the injury and stood firm.
The demons advanced over their fallen kin. A piercing screech sounded in the distance, and the foot soldiers roared in response. A new challenge was revealed and approached Waremasu’s defense.
Flyers crested over the high outer wall and dove below the military ring’s canopy. The flyers’ vile faces drooled as they soared toward the lone guardian. Their speed was far greater than their foot soldier counterparts. In seconds, they passed over the demons’ front line and neared their target. The first two flyers screeched and folded their wings, diving at Waremasu.
He remained motionless as the boy nearly screamed at him to prepare. The first flyer attacked, then there was a flash of movement, and the flyer lost a wing and two other appendages. The flyer’s haphazard momentum continued onward, and it flew over the boxes and slammed into the stone wall.
The second flyer attacked, and again there was a flash of movement, and the second flyer’s head was severed. The boy’s blue eyes watched the headless body spiral over him and crash into the inner wall as well.
When the boy looked back at the stranger, he could see a line of evil foot soldiers falling lifeless in the distance. The boy’s eyes could not keep up with Waremasu’s actions as he saw another flyer haphazardly passing overhead and then another, both with limbs missing.
The boy looked again at Waremasu in growing hope, though he noticed something moving in the wind near the stranger’s left shoulder. It was a piece of loose fabric flapping wildly. The boy looked harder and could see a tear in the defender’s cloak. He began to worry because he believed the stranger was injured.
Another line of foot soldiers fell in the distance as a fifth and sixth flyer spun into the inner wall. The bodies were piling up, but the onslaught continued.
Waremasu gazed upward through an opening in the canopy. His mysterious eyes searched the dark clouds high above in uncertainty and yearning.
Doubt slipped into his mind. Are you watching . . . do you care?
A tear rolled down his flawless face as his forsaken condition solidified.
A sharp sting in his right arm brought him back to the battle at hand. A flyer had sunk its teeth into Waremasu’s right arm.
The incomprehensible speed at which Waremasu reacted would have caused any and all to fear his power.
Before the boy could blink, the flyer was crushed into the floor. How it happened remained a mystery to the frightened boy for it was not the stranger’s hands that crushed the demon, but his soul.
Tears overwhelmed the boy as he failed to comprehend the utter power housed within the dark figure. The boy’s heart leaped painfully within his chest, and his throat tightened. Never had the boy fathomed such brutality, even if it was targeted at pure evil.
The boy saw the burning rage in the stranger’s posture and rigid expression. The powerful guardian’s irises began to glow more intensely. The air grew heavier as Waremasu’s soul grew darker. The boy struggled to remain on his feet and eventually collapsed to his knees as the atmosphere around him pushed downward with increasing force.
The precious blue eyes struggled to watch the stranger as fearful tears freely flowed, no longer resulting from the demons, but from Waremasu. Good or evil, the boy began to question the stranger’s alignment.
The air behind Waremasu began to distort, expanding outward to either side of him.
The boy’s fear was consuming.
“Where are you?” A flood of terror burst out of the boy as he began to weep. “Mommy . . . Mommy . . . Mommy . . .”
The boy sat down and began to rock back and forth uncontrollably. “Mommy . . . I do not want to die. Please, Mommy . . . come back . . .”
The boy felt something wet hit the top of his hand, though he knew it was not his tears as they fell on the wood of the crates.
He looked up with tear-filled eyes and wondered if it was about to rain as another drop fell on his hand in the same location.
The boy wondered where the moisture originated. There were no raindrops hitting the stones near him, and again a water drop struck his hand, and he looked up at the clouds once more, yet no rain fell.
In truth, what the boy felt was an angel’s tears. The boy’s guardian angel wept for him, a Holy Angel.
The boy sank back into tears and sorrow, crying out, “Mommy . . . Mommy . . . Mommy.”
As the little boy cried, Waremasu struck down row after row of demons and flyer after flyer. The flyers spun out of control as they found parts of their bodies severed.
The protector’s rage burned, and the light within him was dimming. The darkness in his soul was taking hold as its black claws buried deeper into his spirit.
Waremasu reappeared at his defense point in front of the children. The air distortion extending out to either side and behind him had intensified, so much so that a shape was beginning to define the chaotic air.
The little human calmed down just enough to venture back over the boxes. He turned and struggled to pull himself up as the atmosphere had grown unbearably heavy.
The boy gripped the top of a crate and lifted himself with all his strength, for his eyes to see. The soft blue eyes locked on to the stranger, and his mouth dropped while his eyes widened at what he witnessed. He recognized the characteristics of the being clarifying before him.
He had heard the tales of the woman and daughter from Kinwood, their neighboring town. They had spoken such a wild story, but the ideas had stuck with him since hearing their tale about the Divine One and his angels.
Waremasu stood strong and ireful as the distortion solidified and the air itself was torn apart; two great wings ripped into existence. Each was fifteen feet in length. The top half of each wing was covered in dark black feathers, and the bottom half of each wing was covered in bright white feathers. What the boy did not grasp was that the wings echoed the soul. Waremasu’s soul was divided, and so, too, were his wings, in mirror image.
The boy gasped, “An angel! Be they real?” The boy cleared the tears from his eyes and whispered in growing belief. “The fable is real . . .”
Waremasu lifted his wings into the air and extended them to their full height in a demonstration of foreboding might. He made his strength clear to all who opposed him. A beacon to all who could feel his
spirit, friend or foe.
◆◆◆
Meanwhile, Zauvek defended the inner wall’s broken gate. He was beating back the demons that wanted to enter. Piles of the deceased littered the area in front of the gateway, though demons continued to race toward Zauvek relentlessly, wave after wave.
Zauvek laughed joyfully. “Come. Everyone, come. Fight me at once. I want a challenge.”
He lifted his staff high in the air with its point raised to the sky, then brought it down before him. As the staff descended, every demon standing due north along its line was crushed into the ground.
He laughed hysterically.
Zauvek took his right palm and thrust it toward the northwest. An unseen force instantly impacted every demon standing in the direction of his open palm. The lighter demons lifted off the ground and flew far away, crashing to the ground in the distance. The larger demons merely fell lifeless in place, due to their heavy stature resisting the force. The force’s impact caused unbearable internal damage to the bigger demons and killed them where they stood.
Zauvek laughed, but this time his hysteria was cut short by an all-too-familiar sensation. A feeling rolled through his soul, a feeling of immense power. He looked out into the battlefield and failed to see the sensation’s origin.
Zauvek’s mind clicked into understanding.
“Waremasu, you fool! What are you doing?” Zauvek roared in agitation and crushed another row of demons with his falling staff. “You will bring their worst . . .”
His palm rushed toward the northeast, and his soul smashed into dozens of demons, thrusting most backward into the air.
Zauvek yelled in frustration, “Why, Waremasu? You will not survive. Not without your sword.”
He crushed another line. “You fool!”
He stood straight up with a formidable stance and held his staff in his left hand, turning it horizontally. He set his intense gaze on the battlefield before him.
“I must leave.”
The First Seal Page 27