If Uriel knew what he was getting himself into, he would kill him. Metaphorically, of course; endangering his own life was something he could do on his own.

He pushed his hood back, to let his eyes admire the huge walls above him. His feet sunk a little on the snow, and his breath came out misty in the cold air. In front of him was a huge mountain; at each of his sides stood five enormous tunnels carved into it. The one at his left had crumbled with time, but the rest were still magnificent. Tall statues guarded each arc; their eyes were fixed on him as he admired them at the feet of the gigantic fortress. Their presence was angelic, their stony wings were folded at their sides; it was eerie. Most were clawed, broken. Each had held a weapon, but they had been ripped out of their lifeless hands.

He gulped. Those claw marks were not big, but they were evident. Whoever had lashed against these statues had done so with great resent. The stone had not been a rival for the strong nails that had sunk, or durable enough to resist against a trident.

While glaring at each tunnel, he pondered. He had to get in, but each cavity was filled with a freezing flow of air. The wind brushed the mountain constantly; it seemed to howl as it entered the tunnels. They were dark, he could not see their ends, and he knew they shrunk once they went deeper.

He looked back to the forest in the far distance. Uriel was alive, he was certain. His demon would follow him, anywhere. Wherever they were, with these many demons around, they were better off without him seeking them. He could go back, but if he neared them in those woods, the devils would chase them more wildly. And he would not be able to protect them. He was better off waiting, letting them find him instead. He could not do anything but advance.

Alexis frowned deeply. He looked into the dark, and the dark looked back, like if something was there waiting for him.

Am I really going to do this?

His thoughts warred with each other. He was completely capable of killing. He could be safe in there if he so wished, at the price of a demonic life. The golden flames would forever be in his mind; but in between them, there was still doubt and uncertainty. He thought of Uriel and his kind smile. As well, he thought of the evil grin of the monster Philander described. And then… he remembered Aurora’s little smile, her wings fluttering, her innocent yet artful eyes. All that could turn into ashes, with only one word and move.

He looked into one of the tunnels. His eyes were sad, reluctant. His hand brushed a little the handle of his sword, something that would always protect him against any evil, as long as Uriel was not there.

“Please, let me be unseen.”

He did not want to face a demon like that. He did not want to see a beast that resembled what he loved. Death was not something he wished to bring; he did not want to be something his daughter had to fear.

He wanted her to be happy. And he would stop at nothing to achieve it. There had to be a way to bring life to his most dreadful of thoughts. Everything that Philander had said only made him wonder more.

Slowly, he ventured inside, sword slightly unsheathed. With wary steps, he walked through one of the entrances, going past the tall statues that watched. The tunnel did shrink inside, leading into a long stony corridor. After what seemed an unending abyss, he found another arc, which invited to a labyrinth of turns and shadowed pathways. He leaned on the arc, peeking in. His eyes narrowed with worry when he passed the two walls at his sides. He stood still, eyeing the runes that suddenly shined there, blazing, and reacting to his movement. Blood had been there once, marked. He feared they would emanate that deafening sound Philander described… but they did not. They vibrated and blazed, but slowly cooled. It looked like if they had lacked the strength, the spark to their blast.

He stood there, even when the runes stopped shedding the only light around him. Breathing steadily, he tried to calm his pounding heart. He moved to look at the depths again, nervous. The dark of the paths reminded him of those caverns, the ones in which he ran to escape what he thought to be his murderer.

This time, he was not escaping from anything. This time, he was willfully daring danger to come to him, just because he was desperate to find a reason for his pain. He could not deny his wish; he could not step back, not even while hearing the scared whispers in his head. Something beckoned him, he could not ignore it.

Like a moth lured to a fire, he kept walking, ascending through tunnels to the upper chambers.

————

Warmth. That was what she felt, a soft warmth covering her, shielding her away from the cold breeze. It was a gentle hold, one in which she could not move much, but one that did not pressure her. There was breathing over her, a strong breath, firm yet troubled.

When she opened her eyes, she did so in a haze. All was blurry at first. There was white, and azure; something red glinted above, and something black surrounded her. As well, something blue moved in front of her. There were voices; the blue color cleared, she soon saw that it belonged to the eyes of a figure, the one who had leaned close. The voices kept speaking, and she could not avoid noticing that one was sorrowful. The figure in front of her moved away, something long swaying sadly behind it.

Aurora rested there, blinking slowly. She tried to move in Lykaios’ hold, but he kept her down, gently. Her wings began to flap slightly, numb and still heavy. She looked up, and finally recognized Lykaios there, much to her confusion.

“I’m glad you’ve woken up, Aurora.”

His voice had been monotone, but the care was there. She was confused by the fact that there was no sternness, no resent. His hold was protective and firm, even zealous.

She laid there against his side, her mind pounding. She soon began to remember, the river, the water and… her fall. She shot up a little, her wings batting more strongly.

“Where’s Ariel?!”

There was urgency in her voice, Lykaios was big and covered a lot of space over her. The big demon sighed and moved her down again, worried by her sudden jolt. He assured her, moving slightly to let her see ahead.

“She’s fine.” Aurora went limp with relief, once she saw her ahead. Ariel was sitting on a rock with her back to them, lamenting silently. “You should worry more about yourself. You were in the water for a long while.”

In that, she was like her father, he had to admit.

“But she was there too. She tried to take me out.” Much like him, she shared the same foolish disregard for herself. She kept trying to stand, to move, worried more for her sister. “She’s might have gotten hurt. Maybe she’s trying to hide it, to-”

“Aurora, I’m fine.” Aurora blinked, seeing Ariel look up. Her sister glanced at her, but with a look she rarely had seen. It was a look of guilt, anger and shame. Her voice was dragging, her tail was low. “I should have gotten hurt, not you.”

She said that while clenching one of her claws slowly, looking at the cuts on it. She was angry, but with herself.

Lykaios sighed, because Aurora escaped his hold. She pushed herself off against him and stood, almost tumbling down. One step at a time, she walked towards Ariel, dragging her wet wings on the ground. She gave Ariel a look, one of disapproval.

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault that I-”

“It is.” Aurora flinched, because Ariel gave her a glare. She never glared at her. Her blue eyes were sharp now, still affected by the past adrenaline she felt. Her expression was firm, disappointed. All that anger was not for her though. “I prepared our escape, I led to that town, I let you lose your bow, I let you hang from a tall wall, and I took you into a river. I did all of that. All this time, I could have gotten you…”

Aurora shook her head, hurt. Ariel had seemed to lose all the confidence she had in the past days. Her wings tried to lift, to prove she was fine, but they only managed to shake.

“Nothing happened, Ariel. I’m ok. You were taking me to him; you were trying to make me happy. You… you have not hurt me.”

“…” Ariel smiled, but it was bitterly. She stared at their reflection on the water, not seeing herself as a capable demon anymore. She was just a young teen, not the young woman she wanted to be. “Look at you, your wings. We worried for them, but we should have worried about us.”

Of course they had to make me stay; I can’t keep her from harm out here.

Aurora tried to hold her wings up. She ended up grabbing their ends in her arms, with a deep frown.

“They don’t hurt, Ariel. I promise.” She was very self-conscious of the limbs that differentiated her from all her family. “Please, don’t worry; it was me who slipped. Just a small-”

Ariel was taller and older, and now she was angry and frustrated; as demons, they never realized how easily they could intimidate others, while not even trying to.

“Well, maybe I should worry, sis. I’m not as trustful as Uriel; I do not have his strength, no matter how much I try. I’m not as capable as I thought.” If one thing she had inherited from Uriel, it was his pride. For her, there was no bigger shame than to be faced with the repercussions of her actions. Her eyes were sharp, firm, feral… guilty. “The only thing I can do is correct what I can. We’re going back and we will wait for them. They will be back, they will be fine… They surely will.”

Aurora paled. She slowly turned, feeling two eyes on them. Lykaios was there, eyeing both. It was obvious they had nowhere to run now, he had cornered them. And Ariel was too crestfallen to trust she could be of any use to them if she ever found them.

Ariel welcomed any kind of retribution Lykaios thought adequate. But to their surprise, the lynx just whispered to them, looking sideways with a look that they did not understand.

“Just a fearful venture… a mistake.” He met Aurora’s worried eyes, gently, tiredly. He knew how worried she was. “Come back home with me now, and they will return to you. Understand that there are risks you cannot face, things you should not prod into. They will be ok.”

He loved them, much more than they believed. He was not as cold as he wanted to pretend.

Ariel brushed one of her horns while staring at herself, head down. She was silent, much like Aurora. Her wings shivered as she stared at her necklace. The glow was still there, closer, insistent. But by looking at Ariel and her defeated eyes, she could not avoid feeling submissive. Ariel had always been fearless, but now she was faltering. So she had no one to hold her hand and drown her uncertainty.

Aurora’s next whisper tangled with every fear that had led her here.

“Do you really think they are safe?”

Ariel shot a serious look at Lykaios, begging silently for him to tell them what they wanted to know. However, the demon preferred to ignore her, keep his secrets.

“I do, Aurora. You can trust them; they have their reasons for leaving you behind.”

Another lie; part of him feared too. But he was as powerless as them.

Nonetheless, his whisper was all she needed. With a sad frown, she hid her necklace under her shirt, where she would not see the pulse and glow. Wings low, she complied to desist, to go back, against all her wishes. She felt as much sorrow as Ariel; she felt weak and inadequate. She trusted in Lykaios’ word, as it was the only thing she could hold onto now.

Lykaios could see their slumped shoulders, their shaken stances. So he looked away, whispering.

“We will leave when your wings dry. Rest, set camp by the mountain’s feet; it may take a while.”

Aurora looked at her hairy feathers. She brushed them, not at all careful with her nails. Her wings felt like chains, something she did not have control of. She could not even move them now. She would have to wait to be able to do something as simple as walking. She really felt estranged by them, something no one had told her to use to her advantage. She had never had control over her own body.

Part of her wished them gone, perhaps given to another. On the other hand, another part of her wanted nothing more than to be able to use them. There was a painful contradiction in her mind.

She wished she had flown, that Ariel could have kept moving forward, that she had not needed to help her. But she could do nothing but keep walking now, like him. Back to their seclusion, to the only sanctuary their family could provide against a detestable world.

This journey had been nothing like what they had hoped for. All their wonder had died with the struggles they came across, everything a little bit bleaker. They felt left behind, incapable of reaching their side.

The three waited there; none of them said a word, far too sorrowful or tired to do so. While looking bitterly at the humid ground, they did not admire their beautiful surroundings. In the distance stood the huge dam, something that gave water to the valley, in safe quantities. No one usually roamed there; it was a desolate monument, ancient. No human ever walked there to inspect its durability. And in such emptiness, something now crawled. Something crept and slid, in between cavities. It slid past the huge eagle mouths, sinking into the stone; it swam against the current. It clawed at the rocks, rooting itself there, at the core of the dam. Cracks began to form… but no one saw them far below.

—————

His steps were as silent as the ones of a mouse. He kept walking in the dark, ascending up some unending stony stairs. They twisted and turned, sending him into more tunnels, as well infinite.

He would curse and complain against this kind of empty architecture, but he knew he had to be quiet. All noise he made echoed through into the vacant fortress. The tunnels ascended into the mountain, leading to the peaks above, to the towers and core. He was sure the angels had designed this kind of entrance to tire the pilgrims, to exhaust them with a long walk. It was a test of endurance; a test he was sick of.

His amber eyes looked around in the dark; it was the fifth time he had to choose a path. There was another entry, another corridor, which seemed to have more stairs. He was looking at the murals around him, distracted… and that was why he yelped when he saw a figure ahead.

He made quite some noise, not only with his startled voice. After stumbling, he regained his balance by leaning on a wall. He panted angrily, cursing himself while looking at the statue in front of him. I was only a simple statue of a hooded angel, a milestone for any pilgrims that ascended. It had scared him with reason, because he expected that demon to lurk around.

Again he refused to curse; he eyed the dark, paranoid. In his mind the walls had ears, he feared to have been heard. He leaned against a wall and hid from the statue, just in case this monster knew any tricks like Uriel. He was really nervous; the sweat began to fall from his forehead. Calmness was essential however, because sweating would only make his presence more obvious.

After taking a few deep breaths, he noted that nothing had moved. So while trying to be as careful as possible, he continued to walk into the dark. If he still had his wings they would be impossibly puffed. He left the statue behind, hoping to find the core of the fortress above. Unseen to him, and unheard, something did move. Below, a part of the floor shined, runes blazed; after that, the stones moved up. They rose to become a wall. A blockage appeared where he had entered, silently.

Above, he was blissfully unaware that his presence was known of. His eyes glinted with interest when he saw a thick wooden door ahead. After opening it slowly, he beamed. He snuck into the big chamber, as well stony. However, it was not void like the tunnels. He eyed the stony shelves filled to the brim with books and old papers. A lot of murals decorated the walls, as well as more statues.

He went directly for the books. His hand snatched one and began to rummage through the pages, expecting to find great knowledge. The hope in his eyes was great… but it began to fade slowly. There was nothing useful in that first book; it just narrated the protocol of pilgrimage. Snatching a second one, he snarled when he read the title; it was only about the proper ways to pray in front of angels. He began to push books out of their shelves, reading every single title. He panted with a sorrowful stare, his feet now buried under many books. All were things that humans could study; it was obvious this chamber was dedicated to any pilgrim that arrived, for them to be introduced to the temple and its ways.

Once he got through with every single book there, he growled and pulled at his hair a little, glaring at the many shelves around him. All were the same, tall, stony, and useless. This temple was indeed a library, but this chamber was the most boring of them all. If there was true angelic knowledge, it would not be here. It would be deeper, above.

He really wanted to curse, but he kept it down. Knowing he had to find something, he took a few steps towards the door that led to the upper tunnels. Yet he stopped dead on his tracks. As he stood in front of the bigger door, he heard something. It was familiar; it was something he had heard many times, but not in years. It was the fluttering of feathers in cold air. It was very faint, no human would have ever discerned it, and angels would have trouble hearing it too. But he heard it; he could never mistake a sound he always kept remembering.

He backed away from the door. As he paled, he listened to the sound. It was something with wings, something that was nearing and sneaking closer. By hearing it advance towards the door, he knew he had to get out. And run he did. He bolted as silently as possible back towards the door he had entered through.

As much as he had tried to be silent, he was perceived as well. The thing he heard began to run, he could not mistake the sound of wings pressuring against the rush of air. He could mistake much less the sound of a growl, one of silent fury.

Alexis left behind the many books and stony shelves, pushing through the door and into the tunnel, not caring to be silent anymore. He had been noticed, and nothing would hide him from it. The monster was chasing, even if the only hint of its fast pace was the sound of those big wings cutting the air.

He ran through the dark, back through the tunnels. He jumped multiple stairs as he headed towards the corridors where he had struggled to find a way. Below, he stopped hearing the sound of those wings in the shadows. A few huffs escaped him when he saw that hooded statue again. Having to leave this place was the last thing he wanted. But he did not want to face that thing, not if it was anything like what Philander had described.

His feet slid mid-run, to dash past a turn he had taken before. It was a horrible surprise when he saw that it was a dead end.

“W-what the-?!”

He slammed a hand on his mouth, remembering he should not speak. He looked at the wall with wide eyes, swearing it had not been there before.

He jolted when he heard the sound of something bony and metallic drag in the depths. Something long was being dragged against the stone, from where he had come from, sending a haunting echo to him. As well, his stalker was now letting his steps be heard, circling and sneaking closer.

He sprinted again, not wanting to be caught. While holding the sheath of his sword with one hand, he almost flew through an unknown corridor. His hair pushed back with his fast pace, his eyes narrowed with frustration. He had to stop, sharply. Wide-eyed, he collided with a wall when it slid upwards from the ground, right into his path. Blocked; he was stopped from running through. He brushed the runes that had glinted and recoiled when he felt them burn. As he glared with disbelief, he understood why he had not found the tunnel where he had entered from. His head whipped to look around him, and saw that more walls were moving.

Finally, he unsheathed his sword. He began to step backwards slowly, not fleeing anymore. As he watched the shadows around him, he also glared at every wall that moved with blazing runes. He took many turns, but in each, there was no escape.

He sighed, glaring into the dark. The ground behind him slid up, turning the corridor where he stood into a dead end. There was nowhere to go. So he clasped his sword in between him and the shadows, knowing he would have to face the demon.

I do not want to kill… but I will if I have to.

The dragging echo stopped. Whatever had been sliding against the floor was twirled upwards, cutting the air. The steps picked up pace; the monster lunged into a sprint, surely because it knew he was cornered. The corridor he stood at was very long; it had two turns ahead, but he refused to run for them. The monster was coming from one of them, but he did not know from which one.

Alexis held his breath and straightened his posture. He wanted to be ready when it appeared, even if he knew he wouldn’t ever be. He trembled with anticipation, but kept his sword up. As always, he was not the bravest of fighters, but he would not doubt to fight for his life. Philander had described this being as evil incarnate, but he still had the assurance that even the evilest of demons would burn.

The chase came to an end. In just a second, the echo of its steps ended. In a slowed moment, his amber eyes widened, seeing at last the demon. A tall black figure slid from one of the corners ahead. Having been in a sprint, its armored feet slammed on the ground, to slow down its drive. A huge long trident came to view, held strongly by two big slender claws. In its move, two enormous feathered wings dashed behind it, providing drive for it to stop. The black feathers were as black as its long robes; below them, shined a grey armor. Something torn hanged below the black wings, something that he could not see well. It was something of an ashen color, something that moved, that twitched. The only thing he could discern well, besides the huge trident, were its eyes under that black hair. Two deep red eyes, sharp and wise; they glinted as the demon glided into the corridor, slashing the air with their glow. It was as dark as Philander had described, even if it resembled an angel slightly; its expression was one of pure anger, of hate. Those eyes fixed on him in the dark, bloodthirsty, murderous.

The devil only stopped for half a second after sliding. It pointed the sharp trident forward… and lunged silently for him through the dark.

He raised his sword, screaming.