A long life; all had that. An unending eternity in which they felt safe. Numbers mattered, but did not at the same time. Death was something known and foreign as well. Death in battle was a dream; death in old age was a rare occurrence, counted with a single hand every century.

Illness on the other hand… it was something too human to admit, too rare to consider deadly.

Pride was not what brought her demise. It would be their burden, but not hers. She did not die with a broken heart, but with a hopeful one. Her eyes did not close; they slowly lost their life after a single glance. A small smile had grown on her lips, after hours of agony. Exhausted, her body remained still at last. She heard the breath of the being she wanted to give life to, and that was enough for her to let go. She held on through everything for this very moment. She had created another life; just like she believed their deity to have done eons ago.

Her creation was small; far too small. But it was alive. There was nothing else she could think of that she could care about.

In her last moments, she knew she was far too weak to keep her heart beating for long. Her body felt numb. Her fair wings were growing pale. She regretted not being able to reach for her newborn son, towards those small golden glints she saw. Not even her wings could move and brush him.

A lonely tear fell down. It was not one of pain, like the others before, but one of sorrow. Because she would not be there for him.

But in that grief, she still smiled, while letting out her last hopeful breath.

—————

 

He had been warned. Directly, by a fearful man. Nervously and doubtfully by his serving priests.

While all had been haunted by what they knew, she had been accepting. As her husband, he had heard her whisper, once, in the calm of night. She knew what would happen, yet she had not shown dread.

It had not mattered to him then. He had refused to entertain any of what they said. He stood pridefully. For him, those whispers were full of the fear that only the weak felt.

He was not able to keep standing when the moment of truth came.

He did not believe she was gone, not right away. He did not reach for his son. Instead, he kneeled at the side of the bed, to call. His hand brushed hers, but she did not answer. She was cold, pale. Her wings had lost her color, like her eyes. But her smile was there, the smile he had always cherished. So he kept calling, even when a servant offered his newborn to him.

He refused to listen or look; he was too prideful to accept that she had passed. The servants held his son, who was not making a single sound. Born too soon, the infant took faint breaths, unable to cry.

It took a while for reality to kick in. When it did, it broke the composure he had shown to the world for so long. He paced and yelled into empty chambers, silver wings sharp with impotence. His servants heard and saw it all, how lost he felt, in the most guarded of fortresses. The safest place, which he had wanted to give her. All for nothing.

In the evening, when the sun could not be seen, he finally opened the doors of his home. He could not turn a blind eye then; he could not evade the one who had been in wait. The man marched in, right past his guards.

“Where is she.”

The angel did not raise his voice, but he still made all the servants flinch while striding towards their master. The fury was obvious in Angus’ eyes. He had paced for hours in the street, forbidden of attending those dreadful moments.

Einar gave him the same coldness then. Gone were the tears of the prideful angel, unseen. However, this time, there was something different. Einar turned slightly, having been facing the dark all this time. His gaze was less emotional, if it was possible, and not in a good way. He seemed broken, defeated. When he turned to look at Angus, he unwrapped his wings from over his arms. He spoke slowly, while Angus stared at what he carried, with less fury.

“She is with our maker.”

With that, Einar stepped around Angus, to walk away calmly, with the baby concealed by his wings. Yet Angus did not move an inch. Einar walked away through the doors, into the street, unstopped.

And Angus did nothing. Nothing but stare. Stare while the servants marched around him as well, solemnly and sadly. They followed their master, allowing Angus to see what they carried out of the chambers. Beautifully grim, she was held in what could only be described as a funerary bed. A casket, carried like a palanquin, where she looked to be asleep. Her body rested in between soft and white cloths, eyes closed in peace. Her fair wings were wrapped around her, softer than the beautiful white tunic she wore.

He stood there, frozen. He stared while the servants, guards and priests followed Einar out, to proceed with the sorrowful ceremony they had to fulfill.

It took him a second. When her body passed him, he could not keep it inside any longer.

No servants paid him mind when he dropped to his knees. No guards broke their stance while he let out the loudest of cries. No priest slowed while he clawed at his eyes. And no one helped him stand to follow the march outside…

————

 

All ceremonies were cold; direct, monotone and quiet. Angels always let out their words carefully.

This silence was different. It was grimmer, colder. Around them flowed a solemnity that felt too dark.

Only a few were allowed to set foot into her temple that night. Angels rarely shared their daily affairs with others, much less moments like this. However, protocol was still important. At the sides stood a few maids and acolytes, who watched while the priests worked. With nothing more than a few words and prayers, they closed yet another stony tomb inside those walls. Then they all parted, heads bowed down. Their steps and chants echoed in their way out, past dim lighted hallways.

Their parting did not manage to disturb the shadow in the dark.

Crouching by the towering wall, where thousands of priests had been laid to rest, he quivered. His sobs were silent, but constant. His eyes were not closed, but fixed on the detailed markings of her resting place. Even if crafted for a noble soul, he did not find it adequate. It was not right, not even if it was meant for the highest of angels. For him, she was in a hole, a dark one, where she would not wake again. He did not care that she was surrounded by former elders, or in a sacred temple. No ceremonies, praise or honor would make this any better.

He wanted her back.

“…Why can’t I wake up, Aurora?”

He wondered why his nightmare had no end. He wanted his sister to wake him up, like she used to do before he fell into his plight. He would love to be awoken by a harsh nudge of hers, maybe pushed off his bed, if it meant the silence would stop. He wanted to hear her laughter, see her smile once more.

In the silence, he wondered if he had died in that world. He wondered if this was hell, if he was paying for his wrongdoings.

His hand gripped the edge of her stony casket. He almost crushed the pretty runes that she had been gifted in death. He questioned, not her, but the one he wished to be able to reach.

“God, why do you punish me so?”

A curse. It had to be one. Though, he did not understand why it had stricken her, instead of him.

Why did she fall bringing life…

It was eating him inside. He had to ask.

“Why did she fall for you?”

He was not alone. Not far, past an arc, there was a smaller chamber. Inside, was the smallest altar in the temple, concealed and private. He was in there, in the dark, but in plain view.

Why was he not mourning by the tomb, he did not know. How could he answer so calmly, he wished to question.

“She never fell for me. She had a strong will.” Einar was facing the stony altar, wings curled over and around him. His voice was constrained, low. “When we finally united, we did under her terms. While living together, she led our steps more than I did. And when she died… she did without fear.”

Angus raised his gaze, glaring. The next words Einar let out had a hint of emotion. Resent.

“She was so strong…” His silver wings untangled, downwards. Two golden glints reflected in the dark, faintly. “Then why must this child be a curse?”

Angus stood. He neared the small chamber with slow steps.

Like him, Einar moved without hurry, carefully. Without word, he laid the infant on the altar. It was stony, and cold. Yet the child could barely move his wings to protect himself against the touch. Not even a cry. That lack of reaction was something that angered Einar even more. It made him even colder, and let him voice his thoughts easily.

“She was not weak. I am not either.” He gave his back to his own son, glaring into the dark. “If this infant is to be mine, he must prove he can carry the burden of her life.”

Einar was not looking at Angus either. He moved slightly away from the altar, without looking back. He only stopped when Angus spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

He knew exactly what, yet he still asked. Einar’s head moved a little, to look back over his shoulder. He did not show any remorse while glimpsing at Angus’ tired and worried eyes.

“What god has allowed us angels to do, since we came to life.” Einar tried to move away, coldly. “Only the strong willed might belong. It’s in the scriptures.”

Angus froze at first. But then his teeth clenched. His whole body trembled with anger. Before Einar could keep moving, one hand latched onto those silver feathers, strongly. With a yank, Einar found himself closer to Angus, who growled silently.

“You are out of your mind.” Angus leaned Einar closer to his face, to snarl at him. He did not let go of the wing, uncaring of how Einar glared hatefully. “Are you going to leave your own son, in this cold and dark place? He’s going to die in here. She just died for him!”

Einar smiled. He outright smiled while seeing his grief and pain. That smile, it was not taunting, but it was defiant.

“She has.” Angus huffed, because the wing moved. With a single dash, Einar shoved him off against a tall golden candelabrum. Angus hissed tiredly, emotionally exhausted, while the tall angel straightened his robes like nothing. There was rage in Einar’s voice now, though controlled. “Do not dare imply that I don’t grieve, Angus. Do not dare, or I’ll move more than a wing. Something much sharper, against you. I warn you: you have no right to speak in this matter. I’ve felt enough pity for you; I have let you assist her burial. In everyone’s eyes, you are an outcast. Do not dare make a move over my rights.”

Angus shook his head and then sat up slowly. All the tombs on the walls loomed over them, ominous. He whispered, pleading to sound sane enough.

“This is not a matter of rights. It does not matter what our scripture says.” Einar closed his eyes, scowling. “You are only going to lose the only thing you have left of her.”

Angus was startled, because for once, Einar yelled. It shook the silent temple, echoing loudly.

“I have nothing left of her, Angus! She is dead! And so could this child be!” Einar pointed to the altar strongly, without looking at his son. “Look at this child! He is weak! He is barely breathing! This can only be god’s doing! She is gone because of heaven’s will, nothing else could explain her passing! Our deity wanted her soul back… so maybe it wants to take my son as well! I have no choice but to let fate decide, I must know what is right! Their weakness and illness must be a test, destiny itself! We angels don’t die so easily; it only happens when it’s right, when time comes in battle! I’ll leave him here tonight and wait to see the sign at dawn, like our ancestors have always done!”

“No, Einar. The only thing you will see is his corpse.” Angus pleaded, risking stepping closer. His words were chosen very carefully, because Einar had sounded final. “We might have traditions, but that does not mean we must follow them blindly. It has been a long time since any angel has left an infant in fate’s hands; this tradition is unnecessary. Even the priests will tell you so. God does not wish you to risk-”

“You have always questioned our ways, Angus. But I can’t believe you would question our deity.” Einar shut him up, with one last jab. “You have ashamed yourself before us… will you dare to shame yourself upon god himself?”

Angus stepped back, hands and wings falling downwards. He was not able to keep protesting or arguing.

Seeing his doubt, Einar nodded subtly, eyeing him carefully.

“…Thought so.” A smug smile, a victorious one. “You and I, we have nothing to say to each other from now on.”

With one last glare, Einar turned sharply. On his way out, his wings gave an angry flap, which extinguished the few candles that remained alight in the temple.

Angus stood there, even when the doors closed. He looked at his own hands, while steadying his tired breaths.

All was dark and silent.

The coldness of the temple was harsh. Even more so for the one resting on the altar. Any other would cry. But not him. Any other would flap their wings and try to tangle them for comfort. Yet he had not.

Weak, really feeble. Einar was right on that.

Standing by the altar, looking down coldly, he could only see weakness. A small being, clinging to life by a thread. Pale, with barely any developed feathers like a newborn should have. Her child lacked the strength and growth that their kind displayed at birth.

“…Your wings are so small.”

He hated it. So much.

“It had to be agony, for her to fight for both.”

Hate. That was what he felt.

“It probably was thanks to her that you were able to breathe at all.”

He loathed the one who took her away.

“You are just like him…”

He could only see another killer, no matter how defenseless. He hated this child with all his being.

He had wanted to deny it. He had not realized it, but it was true he felt this way.

A curse; that was all he saw while looking down in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to have her back, for this infant to be gone instead. He preferred her tears right then, he was sure he could handle her grief. He could hold her, tell her it would be alright, and reassure her that the child was in a better place.

But he really couldn’t. All that was not possible. Not anymore. All because of the one who rested on the altar; someone who should have never been born.

He was no one now. He had no say in this. And maybe he did not want to.

I could… leave.

The thought was tempting. It was corrupting. The whispers were insistent in his mind. The hate and resent were irrational, compelling. He had too much grief. There was too much hatred inside. And he had to direct it at something.

He turned around.

Much like Einar, he moved away. Slowly, he gave his back to the child. He wished to have nothing to do with the spawn of that monster. He wanted them to be gone from his miserable life.

He took one step away.

It was the only one he took. He stopped.

Quietly, he battled with himself at the door of the small chamber. His wings trembled, pulsing, reflecting his inner conflict.

Einar and this child could be gone… but she would never leave him. Not truly. She would haunt him, forever.

A silent growl escaped him. He looked back with resent. Then his gaze softened, only for a scowl to grow instead. He ended bowing his head, apprehensive of all the sacred symbols around him. A new fear settled in his very core, he became scared of the feeble breaths he could hear behind him.

He crumbled under the pressure and guilt. He could not hold the weight of another sin.

“What is wrong with me?”

He could not hate him.

His expression changed significantly, in a second. He quickly turned and pushed away his evil thoughts, to look again at those golden wings. He neared the altar, frowning. His distress became evident, seeing in another light the weak tremor of the child.

Aurora had to be cursing him for this, he was sure of it. He wondered how he could have let himself hate, even for a second.

“…Come here, kid.” He reached for him apologetically. He wrapped him up into his arms and under his wings, giving him a sad warm look. “Let’s take you somewhere safe, okay?”

He wasn’t the best person to offer safety, but the child had no one else to count on. His bloody hands would have to do.

Angus felt unsure with the infant in his hold. He casted a few nervous glances around him, even thought there was no one but him there. Hurriedly, he began to jog out of the temple, careful to not hurt him under his wing.

His nephew did not seem to react, not even when he pushed the heavy doors of the temple. With the breeze outside he had to feel even colder, but not a single sound was leaving him. Angus tried to keep him warm under his bulky wings, afraid of his fragility.

After a few dreadful minutes, in which he ran through the dark streets, he reached his small home. He sneaked inside, relieved that no one had seen him in the night, not even the guards high above.

After stepping past his small door, he breathed softly. He casted a zealous glance at the street, while keeping his nephew close. He looked down into his arms. He saw two amber eyes, as bright as hers had been. They were half closed, and maybe lost, but they were hers. Under the warmth of two big wings, those eyes had finally opened. And he got lost in the sight.

It was all he needed to smile a little and close the door behind them.

—————–

 

He had expected to see life at dawn. But there was nothing there in the cold chamber, not even the remains of the newborn. The altar was empty.

The priests who had accompanied him to the temple had not time to react. After looking in shock for a moment, he bolted. His silver wings glinted under the rising sun while he dashed through the streets ferociously. He knew exactly what had happened, and why. So he advanced, almost flew, eyes open with intent. Not even his guards were able to follow his quick pace, not even when they realized what happened.

He would not let betrayal and shame mark him.

In minutes, his shadow loomed onto the old door. He stood darkly, even in plain light. He did not bother to announce his presence; he entered the small house with a firm call.

“Angus!”

He stood into the small living room. Even though more light entered behind his bright wings, the one inside saw him for what he really was, a dark ominous intruder.

Angus reacted to his presence, with a dark scowl. But even though Einar began to advance menacingly, he kept his calm demeanor. Tensing, he stopped looking to what he had been guarding through the night, to face the angel that wanted to endanger it.

“How dare you take my son away, you traitorous fiend.”

Einar did not only glare at Angus sharply, but what was behind him. Angus had been crouching near the only light in the room, a small fireplace; beside it, a makeshift cradle. The child was asleep in it, much less pale, warmed by the embers that still glinted faintly. Angus shielded the infant from Einar, whose body language hinted rage, even for his own son.

“This traitor here has saved you son’s life. He would be dead now.”

Einar was still blind. He could not care less that the fire Angus lighted had kept his heir alive. He could only see his honor threatened, his will defied. His eyes filled with mad ire, his expression showed true disdain and hate. He neared Angus a little more, standing taller. Outside, some guards arrived just in time to see him threaten loudly, while building up raging flames in his shaking fists.

“With a pariah’s help, he would be better off dead!” Angus leaned back subtly, seeing him raise one flaming hand. “Out of my way!”

Einar tried to push Angus off to reach for the child… keyword tried.

The guards gasped when a blinding light engulfed the room they looked into. Before they could make a move, a body was pushed out the door, fiercely.

Einar fell to the ground with a hurt heave. When he looked up again, he saw Angus at the door, hand still smoking with his own fiery spell. His once white robes were now grey, burnt and ruined. The smaller angel could have glared at them all from inside, but directed all his anger to the father of his nephew, who panted in shock on the ground.

“I’m not going to let you reach him, Einar.” Angus sounded serious, sure and final. He kept his head high, daring him or his guards to make a move. “If you want to put him in danger again… you’ll have to go over my corpse.”

Einar realized then, that Angus was holding his hammer. He was deadly serious, blocking the pathway to the child with all his body.

The soldiers fidgeted while Einar stood, groaning because of Angus’ fiery strike. He demanded with a hiss, taking one small step closer.

“Give him back, Angus, right now!”

“For what?” Angus pointed, never before having been so angry and insulted. “To take him back to that altar?! To leave him in the cold to die?! To kill him in cold blood?! Don’t you ever get satisfied with death?!”

“I am his bringer! It is I who must decide his struggles if he is to live! You have no right to interfere; he is not your son!”

“Yet I love him more than his own father! You’ll murder your own offspring for your stupid beliefs! For all I know, both his parents are gone! I won’t let her die for nothing!”

Einar snarled deeply, giving Angus a deep resentful stare. He proceeded to lash out, verbally.

“Fine, Angus. Have it your way.” The guards put their hands on their weapons, unsure, because Einar walked slowly towards Angus. Their master stood face to face with the blacksmith, and then began to whisper hatefully. “If you wish to welcome a weakling as your own that much, have him. This is not my son anymore; you have stolen him of that chance. Let him aspire to nothing more than the lowest of lives; steal him of everything he could have had by surviving one simple test tonight. He will never be able to have my blessing; the man he could have become is dead.”

They glared at each other for a few moments. There was no duel this time, just an intense promise of unending hatred. When Angus broke the silence, he did slowly, with only two words.

“Leave us.”

The guards were ready to lunge at Angus if Einar so commanded. However, they were surprised, because Einar only grinned coldly. He did not order them to march into the house and take the child, nor take Angus down. He simply stepped back, folding his wings calmly with one last remark.

“I’ll leave. But my words will forever haunt you, I promise. You will regret this in time, once you see him fail and struggle. You will be the one burdened by his shortcomings, not me.”

With one last glance, Einar shook his scorched robes and began to walk away, followed by his squad. It was a good thing that the streets were not very crowded.

Angus stood there, unmoving. But when he lost sight of them completely, he allowed himself to tremble. His firm sure expression turned into a sorrowful tired grimace. He had not wanted this confrontation, much less to cast fire onto Einar.

But it was worth it.

Slowly, he closed the door. He stepped towards the small fireplace again, looking down gently. In the past, he would sit there to hug his sister, but now, he took hold of a small cradle to peek into it. He smiled a little, staring at her child, who was blissfully unaware of what had just happened.

“I am sorry, Aurora.” He rooked the cradle a little, staring at those golden feathers. His next whisper was soft and knowing. “I’ll keep you waiting to meet Alexis for a long time. As long as I can.”

He gave him his name, having been the only one to truly listen to her.

——————–

—————————–

 

“You saved my life.”

Alexis had stood. He had tried to near him. And he found himself turning away from his nephew’s gaze. He shied from his hand, which tried to lie on his shoulder. He pushed Alexis’ hold softly, feeling unworthy of his comprehension.

“But I failed to protect you for long.” He questioned, unbelieving of how forgiving he could be. “Don’t you remember the day in which I told you to go into your room and stay there? The day in which I let Einar come back into your life? I let him take you to that garrison, and then to that temple. He was right when he said I would carry the burden of your plight.”

“You let me go to those places, but because you wanted the best for me. You listened to what that bastard offered, for my sake. You did not fail, I did. When I could not take it, you let me be what I wanted. You taught me the only thing I would learn.” Alexis snarled, circling him to try to meet his eyes. “You protected me no matter what, no matter how hard Einar tried to break me down.”

“How can you call that protection?” Angus looked up a little, honestly tired. “I have come to accept the theory, that you and I share the same curse, Alexis. I fended Einar off, only to lose you to the elders and their meaningless crusades. You were pushed down; your wings were torn and cut.”

“I have not died, uncle.” Alexis tried to ease the grimness around them, pointing at himself. “I am still alive, all because you choose to reach for me that night.”

Angus sighed, brushing his own hair strongly. He gave Alexis an unsure look, one that told well of his fears.

“You’re not going to live for long, kid.” Alexis instantly lowered his hands, losing his sympathetic expression. Angus was blunt, serious. “I did nothing when they chose you. I stayed put while they pushed you, and drank my sorrows while you roamed in that world. When they come to take you to that trial, I won’t be able to stop them either. I will have to watch how they drag you away again, and keep my hands down. I won’t save you, no matter how much I want to.”

Angus stepped closer, noting Alexis’ conflicted stance. He asked, directly.

“And you know why?” He knew that Alexis would not answer. So he told him what he was thinking. “Because you wouldn’t forgive me if I tried.”

Alexis couldn’t retort. What Angus said were his thoughts. If he tried to raise his hammer, all angels would turn on him as well. He would be judged too, and surely sentenced. His uncle only needed one more offense to be stripped of the last thing he had left, his status as an angel.

His uncle paced a little, glaring at the walls while he spoke.

“No, you would not forgive me, and you can’t lie. You’d rather die than let me try. You know the entire citadel would raise their weapons if I dared save you. You wouldn’t die alone, and that would be worse. If an afterlife truly exists, you would haunt me for eternity. And your mother would probably send me to hell for failing.”

Alexis pondered, gaze low. He brushed his own wrists, staring at the marks that the shackles left. He whispered, with a tone full of understanding, without blame.

“So you came here and told me all this, because it could have been the last time you could.” Alexis smiled with a frown, knowing perfectly well there was no way to sugarcoat this situation. “You’re saying goodbye before I am gone.”

Angus retorted, turning and pointing at him.

“I never say goodbye, Alexis.” Alexis blinked, because Angus flapped his wings down, affirming. “You’re going on trial. But that does not mean I will not go in there by your side, at every chance I get. I’ll argue and stand my ground. I will be there, until the very last breath you take. I’ll never accept your sentence.”

Alexis shook his head, but smiled warmly. There was fire in Angus’ voice, a care he could not describe with words.

“…Uncle, I will never know what worth you see in me.”

“You would if you looked in a mirror, silly.” Angus showed grumpiness again, too exasperated to be polite. “You are the last thing I have of her, the only good thing in my depressing and horrible-”

Angus stopped. Alexis leaned his head in confusion, wondering why he had shut up.

“What’s wro-?”

Alexis huffed, because Angus moved suddenly, and strongly. Before he could even blink, he had been pushed to the wall, where he had been shackled before.

Outside, a figure advanced towards the cell.

The guard saluted and welcomed the angel, who walked calmly. With no hurry, he moved past and reached for the door, after dismissing the soldier.

When Philander entered the cell, he did to the sight of the prisoner with someone else.

He raised an eyebrow without losing his calm expression. He stared at the angel that was crouching near his prisoner, wondering why he was giving him water. Alexis was tied, and much to his discomfort, the angel was pouring down the water into his mouth without stop, holding his jaw strongly. It made Alexis let out quite a few coughs when the other stopped to look at the door.

Angus stood at last, not without receiving a tired glare from Alexis, who understood his sudden harsh actions but did not like them.

Philander was unimpressed. He could have questioned or accused Angus, but he did not. Alexis was honestly surprised when Philander admitted with plain truth.

“It was not me who gave that order.” Angus was not intimidated when Philander got closer, hands clasped together under his robes. His tone was thoughtful. “I know already what he is. It was the elders who proceeded with this unneeded treatment.”

Philander motioned at Alexis with a hand, warning Angus carefully. He was sure of himself, but at the same time careful.

“However, it is my duty to remind you to not give anything to him. Not without my approval.”

Angus taunted, surprised to see Philander give him his back to get closer to Alexis.

“Right, because some water could help him break those shackles and escape.”

Philander looked back to Angus slyly. He said the next words with feigned ignorance, while shooting a quick glance to the shackles. He knew perfectly well they had been open moments ago.

“Maybe not. But it is not a secret that many believe in his possible innocence. He could take advantage of that, don’t you think?”

Angus growled silently and kept acting harshly towards Alexis.

“He could not figure out how to open those shackles even if I shoved the key in between his fingers.” Alexis let his head hang low, because Angus walked out of the cell, not wanting to get him in trouble. “I only fed him water because he wouldn’t make any sense with a sore throat. No way to question his actions like that, you know.”

Philander laid a hand under his chin, muttering to himself with a sly smile.

“Fair point…” Angus left them alone at last. And with that, his eyes moved onto Alexis again. “Though it does not excuse the bread.”

Alexis cringed a little, because Philander had spotted the bread. Angus had shoved it away into the hole of the cell, but it had not managed to go through. He had to hide it when he heard Philander come, even though he had not taken a single bite.

“He was mocking me with it… He was trying to make me-”

“Oh, please.” Philander was blunt. He leaned his head with a funny look. “While at it, we might as well say that you kicked it in there yourself.”

Philander noticed how Alexis paled, at the thought of Angus getting in trouble. So Philander was direct, and a little bit forgiving.

“Do not look at me like that; I am not a devil like you.” Philander affirmed while crossing his wings. “I have no reason to tell of him giving you water or bread. In fact, I would have offered you some water now myself.”

“You? Offering me water?”

“I am not as cruel as Zelophehad. Besides, Angus is right, we can’t expect you to talk with a sore throat.”

Alexis taunted, pissed to be back to the shackles.

“You surely would have shoved it down my throat as well.”

“With the guard in tow, I would have allowed your shackles to be opened. You would have been allowed to drink. I have already beaten you, Alexis. You are no match for me. You are a devil, but a weak one, too feeble to pose a true threat. If you could take me down, you would have done so before.”

“I am not weak…! I- I know some spells! I could beat you in a second match!”

“Talkative, aren’t we?” Philander shut Alexis down, just by saying plain truth. “A shame you don’t know how to turn your annoying words into spells. You were useless in the temple.”

Alexis stammered, caught off guard.

“H-how do you know-”

“I have done my research while you stayed locked in here.” Alexis stared wide eyed, while Philander explained. “I am ready for the trial. And you should be as well. In a few hours, a group of guards will come into the cell. I advise you to not dare move while they open the shackles and change them for other boundaries. Otherwise… they will end your life right then. If you keep quiet, they will take you to some chambers where you will be allowed some time to bathe and change those dusty clothes, in private. We can’t allow you to present yourself like this. We have standards.”

Philander moved away, having explained everything. Alexis did keep quiet, even when Philander said one last thing at the door.

“By the way, many would have not allowed you that simple thing. If fact, many have protested against it. So… consider this a favor.” He walked away, leaving him alone at last. “See you soon, demon.”

Alexis did not know how to feel about Philander being both mean and lenient.

Honestly, he really did not know how to feel about what would come soon.

———————-

 

Glimmers of light, against clear blue water.

It was what helped them find it. The necklace Aurora wore led them north, to tall cliffs and sharp shores. But it did not lead them below; not under the paths they could see. They had to search to find what they looked for. Under the cliffs rested underwater openings, which were filled by the ocean’s waves. They had to descend downwards, were any human would have drowned without lead and direction.

They followed a light that reflected on the waves, out of a small cavern. They found a circular chamber inside, made of carved stone, full of runes. The cave was smaller than others, secluded inside a labyrinth of sand and rocks; but it gave home to the forgotten portal.

They all stood in front of it, looking at it grimly. The portal stood on the center, an arch with a spiked top. It was made of stone, but it was covered with many metals and shiny gems. All of them were of a golden hue, a reflective surface. Between its sides flowed a transparent wave of energy, which only had a little color thanks to the water at their feet. The energy kept pulsing, like if it was alive, desperate to touch anything that dared near it.

While everyone admired it in awe, she reached for what rested at its feet.

All stared at the bracelet in her claw. All noted how broken it looked, like if something had hit it. Maybe a harsh landing, maybe a purposeful yank. It did not matter to them. They were lucky that it had fallen on the sand, for them to find.

Alexis had been here. He had been taken through this portal.

Aurora looked up to it slowly, claw closing around the trinket. Her eyes were full of dread, but as well intense hope. Her voice was soft, yet firm.

“We’re coming.”