“And all of Zelophehad’s actions, which you know of, at last… have been not only forgiven, but understood by this being here. A wingless being, one who has helped and shielded the first of the plague we know as devils.”

Alexis looked up a little from the stand, with a gaze that hinted how tired he was of all of this. He could see every angel whisper and speculate, or hold closer their holy books. The scribes that accompanied the nobility were writing at a very fast pace at their seats. Everyone was muttering in disbelief, wondering about him and his state of mind and body.

Hours. It took hours to say all that was said. All this time he had to stay quiet. The guards had their weapons ready, in case he dared interrupt Philander.

It made him sick. But not as much as when the high priest spoke to him next, directly and with superiority.

“Prisoner, do the words spoken by Philander hold truth?”

So full of themselves…

He opened his mouth, at last. For better or worse.

“A little bit of truth, priest. Adorned with his arrogance and wit, of course.” Alexis used a tired but accusing tone, keeping his anxious shackled hands still. “Philander has not said how murderous he was against him, nor how I was merely trying to defend someone who didn’t want to spill any more blood.”

His eyes narrowed with angry tiredness, because the priest ignored the part that most mattered in his words. They did not care about Zelophehad and his possible redeeming qualities, but about the fact that he had dared to shield a devil.

“So it is true, you stood in between. It is a confession.”

Alexis leaned his head starkly, while standing upright and pulling a little at his chains.

“Sure, call it that. Twist my words like you twist the truth of what devils are.” Alexis taunted, hating how they only spoke of what they wanted. “While Philander blabbered, you have not discussed from where Zelophehad came from, not once. He has omitted it, of course! But some of you know. You are so afraid of the implications that you prefer to direct your attention to other things, like me trying to prevent murder!”

While he raised his voice a little in anger, the prosecution made a move. Einar had grabbed their family sword, and right when Alexis finished, he held it over his neck. The wingless angel huffed and leaned back, while glaring the silver winged angel down. The sword was very close to cut, held tightly by the prosecutor of the trial, who whispered with contained rage.

“Silence. How dare you speak to the high priest in such manner?”

Before Einar could lose control because of Alexis’ defiant stare down, Philander spoke. After walking to them, he moved the sword down, scolding them both like only an ancient angel could.

“Even if his manners are unacceptable, he must be allowed to speak when questioned directly, no matter how displeasing it may be. Forgive his transgression, just this once.”

Einar was displeased by Philander’s easiness on Alexis. So he called to the judges, requesting a chance to object.

“The prosecution asks for the right to silence the prisoner when needed. We can’t gift him the same freedom of word, not for him to speak this way.”

“Einar, please.” Einar shut up, because Philander knew how to toy with him. “Of course he will be put in his place if he steps out of line; he has admitted one crime already. For now, let him voice his thoughts. It only gives you more facts, to bring the gravest sentence onto him. Just be patient, it is now the turn of the defense.”

Alexis was glad that the sword moved away, and that Einar kept his fury under his cold mask. But he was not glad to see Philander begin to circle him instead, interrogating.

“So, you want to bring attention to THAT, do you, Alexis?”

He found Philander’s tone and expression strange. He did not notice the warning in them. He was asked directly, so he was allowed to answer without angering the guards.

“Stop circling me like a hawk, Phil.” Philander obliged, letting him look him in the eye. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Are you ashamed of saying it?”

“It is… a delicate subject, yes.” Alexis felt confused, because Philander leaned closer to the stand and whispered seriously, without a smile. “But it will make you squirm much more if I word it, I assure you.”

“W-what?”

Philander laughed sadly, showing mockery and pity at once, all while staring at his emotional amber eyes.

“I was hoping you would be humble enough to stay quiet, Alexis. I was hoping you would not dare bring out this matter onto yourself. But you have spoken, and I must comply with my vow of truth.”

Alexis stood there motionless, while Philander moved away, to speak loudly, for everyone to hear.

“One crime admitted: compliance and assistance to a devil!” Philander let the light of the room shine onto his red wings, batting them as he brought more judgment onto Alexis. “But there is much more to reveal! Crimes that not only taint his hands, but his whole being!”

Alexis was beginning to get a clue. Philander was a benevolent bastard.

“You sneaky son of a…”

Philander ignored that. Luckily he was the only one to hear. He proceeded to take one book from his stand, and then faced Einar.

“As part of this holy trial, it is my duty to share every single piece of truth, to the judges, to the people, and to the accusation!” He looked at the high priest, and only needed a few words to make those eyes glint with disdain. “He holds the same guilt that Reut bared!”

Most of the angels gathered here did not know of that name, or its meaning. But the high priest and judges knew.

Alexis paled, because every figure that sat above tensed. Some clenched their hands on the stone, or batted their wings closed. Their eyes became ice cold.

While the whispers echoed, the present priests researched the books they held. The scribes tried to understand and write it all down. At the same time, the high priest pondered solemnly.

His expression was dark, hidden from the lights of the huge chamber. Gone was the sun outside. Too much time had passed; the moon reflected grimly through the glassy windows behind him. Alexis felt truly fragile under those eyes, and he could swear a few candles near the old man stopped glinting. The highest of angels knew what Reut did, and they had nothing but hate. For her, and for him. Whatever doubt they had before of his innocence, now it was only a faint whisper in their minds.

Alexis expected an end, for the man to send him to the gallows.

Maybe he wished to do so, but angels were beings of tradition, beings that loved to bask in their highness.

“Too many things have been spoken before this council. Not only the acts of the first devil, but now the ones of its bringer. We hoped to never hear of it again. However…” The priest leaned forward, pointing at Alexis with a hand, tone filled with disappointment. “This young angel, if he is still one, has brought back that grim reminder. We hoped this trial would be a simple one, one to pay for his past disruptions, for his failure as an angel. But I see it is much deeper than that. The moon has risen, and we have only seen the surface of it all.”

The judges exchanged words while Alexis shivered. All grew silent. He wanted to say something, but he was frozen under the stare of hundreds of angels. No words would leave his mouth, not under such pressure and threat.

A minute went by until a decision was reached.

“We must delay his fate for now. We must know everything before sentencing him, as Philander has said. The trial shall be fragmented, continued by day, and halted at night.” Einar loved to hear the next words, because he had most of the say with the guards that would take Alexis back to the dungeon. “Take him away; we must debate without his presence.”

“As you wish, your highness.” Einar stared at Alexis intently, who grimaced and tensed when two guards got hold of him. “It will be my pleasure.”

Philander shook his head in disapproval, noticing how they used unnecessary force. Even though Alexis grew submissive when Einar neared, the angel of silver wings still sneaked a hit with the hilt of his family sword, which made the prisoner hiss and shrink between the two guards.

No one cared or noticed though. He was dragged away, with little to no resistance, tired and without morale.

Philander thought no one cared, until he glanced around and paid more mind to the room. His red wings flapped a little. He eyed the rows, and saw a figure stand sharply. Hooded like all the rest, it was hard to see those eyes. But he caught a glimpse… and they were full of rage.

He watched while Angus stormed out of the chamber, fury contained in silence. With him gone, he just leaned his head, feeling expectation for the next session.

——————

 

The first session of the trial had been long and tiresome.

A young angel hurried through the dark streets, arms full of documents, which he had written during the gathering. His eyes were sleepy, and his wings dragged behind him while he hurried through the small alleys near the temples.

“Master is not going to be pleased if I don’t bring him these papers before morning.”

The priest he served wanted every word said in the trial revised and rewritten. He was bound to write every word, for the honor of being allowed entry in such an important meeting. Other scribes would kill for a chance like this one.

He walked away from the grand palace, wishing nothing more than to get closer to the outer districts of the citadel, where his small home rested. There he would spend the night revising the words, telling of a trial that would come to pass in history, according to every priest he heard.

The more he advanced, the fewer guards roamed. He passed the last one he would see in a while, leaving the most grand of streets for more humble paths. Every soldier was gathered in the centre of the citadel, guarding zealously the evil that hid in a cell.

It could be nothing more than a devil, he was sure. No one but a devil would speak that way to the high priest.

While he pondered, he walked between the tall walls of two temples. He eyed the statues above, shuddering while gazing at some. Depictions of horrible demons, with horrible grimaces, perked at the edges of the alleys. He felt watched by them, even though all were depicted under the mighty watch of warriors, who pointed their spears at them.

“He surely did not look like those statues…”

No, the statues had horns, tails, claws, or grim wings. But that prisoner had nothing like that.

He had to shake those thoughts away, reminding himself that the elders could not be wrong.

“If master knew I am pondering, he would seek another scribe.”

He stopped thinking. He stopped looking at the shadows of the demonic statues. If he had kept looking curiously, he would have seen one move. What had looked like stone from below, soon crept sideways, unfazed by the stony spear that had been looming over it while seated. Two violet glints flowed in the dark ledges; two claws helped the figure follow the steps of the angel. Slowly, it lurked closer, watching every single step the scribe took.

The scribe only wanted to get home and rest, his mind was tired. So tired, that when a torch blew out with the wind, he was taken by surprise. He blinked in the dark, gasping when a few papers dropped to the floor.

“How can I be so graceless?!” He lowered to pick them up, careful to not drop any others. “It’s a good thing that I will write them all over.”

The figure was not above anymore. While he commented, a shadow climbed down the wall, slowly and carefully.

“Dammed be the rain.” He stared motionless at a paper, noting how the ink had been smeared. “Oh, heavens, he’s going to end me.”

He feared his master a lot. But he would have never imagined what kind of fear he was capable of feeling, not until he noticed the huge shadow that loomed over him.

Mouth open, he slowly turned. The color left his face, and his auburn wings.

A towering figure, standing right in front of him, yet bathed in the most concealing of shadows. Two violet irises lit, piercing him. A posture that hinted brute force, nails that gleamed. The whipping of a tail was the only thing that echoed, for the shadow was as silent as the night.

“D-d-d-de-”

The word would not come out. The demon knew it wouldn’t.

The angel screamed and recoiled against a few crates, dropping everything he had been carrying zealously. He shielded himself with his arms and wings, because the devil closed in after him. He saw those two horns follow the moves of the glints, and he decided he did not want to see them anymore. He tried to swing his wings strongly as cover, but he only touched the cold air of the night.

He screamed a second time with his eyes closed, because he felt those claws, onto him, against his robes. He felt the yank, the beast rip and pull. Next, a fiery breath.

And then, no more.

He trembled, dropped there in the dark. He heard a faint movement, and then silence. He could only hear his own heaves and breaths, his heart beat against his chest.

Slowly, he lowered his limbs. He was alone in the alley.

The claws had not targeted him. Not him, but something. He gasped, because he realized he was missing two things. One, the papers, which were gone from the ground. Two, the long scribe robes he wore over his daily clothes.

He paled, both for the fact that he had seen a monster, and the fact that he lost things that would enrage his master.

High above and far from the angel, one of the statues moved again.

While leaning against the depiction of a crying angel, the demon sighed. One of his claws folded the robes that had been taken carefully, while his violet eyes narrowed with remembrance.

He knew that the young angel would be scared, and that he would be no match at all. He had come to understand that not many angels managed to be the mighty winged warriors they claimed to be. He only felt slightly sorry for attacking that teen. Only a little bit.

His eyes inspected the runes written on the documents, very carefully. He sighed sadly, only managing to understand a few words. While looking into the horizon worriedly, a whisper escaped him.

“I should have asked more about your life, Alexis.”

He had not been told much; there was a lot of resentment for this place… from both of them. But there was one who had asked more questions, who had managed to get more answers. One had been more curious than him, less judging of his culture.

His daughter had bonded with an angel since birth, without prejudice or resent.

With one last glare into the street, he dashed away into the night. No one saw him move again between the stones.

—————–

 

The forest looked grim and dangerous. Yet it was the safest place they would ever roam in this world.

The towering trees kept the angels away. They had always done so, uninviting to those mighty flights. The tall bushes cast shadows that tangled with the faint mist, creating a perfect sanctuary for the only ones who roamed.

Three waited where no angel would walk. His return was expected. All stood sharply when he marched past big dense bushes, revealing his presence to them.

Ayako grinned and ran, only stopping when she slammed against him in a hug. She sighed, with immense relief.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

There was only so much humans could write about this world, not enough for her to feel safe with his parting. She had warned, yet he had ventured anyway.

“It was easy.” He smiled at her, laughing a little with the very same relief. “Much easier than I imagined. There were almost no guards in the outer districts.”

Ayako glanced into the distance, not one to have seen the dangerous citadel yet. She had feared his death in the white labyrinth. She was still wary; her eyes were narrowed like the ones of a fox.

“Were you seen?”

“Not much, but enough to give nightmares for a lifetime.” His expression became more gentle, to ease Ayako’s new concerns. He looked down sheepishly, moving his arm to show what he got. “I got something for you three.”

Ariel and Aurora sniffed a little the air and made a face, noticing the things he carried.

“What’s that smell?”

Uriel walked to them and showed them the robes, questioning with a lean of head.

“What, don’t you recognize it?”

For them, the robes reeked with a smell that felt familiar, but completely unique as well. If it was a voice, it would be the loudest of yells. While Ariel sniffed curiously, Aurora let out an apprehensive snarl, eyeing the robes with a funny look.

“Alexis smells nothing like that.”

Aurora would never admit that any other scent was similar to the one of her father. Ariel corrected her, much more objective, having only known one angel in her life.

“It does smell kind of similar, if not with a trace of… yes, something different.” Ariel circled the robe, hand under her chin. “Do I smell sweat?”

“Considering it belonged to a boy and that I gave him the scare of his life, probably.”

Both girls stuck their tongues out, taking a few steps away when Uriel confirmed.

“I should have not tried to guess.”

“I’d rather cover myself with Alexis’ cape after he’s worn it in a sunny day inside his forge.”

“Sorry, Aurora.” Uriel brushed the back of his neck, apologizing with a smile. “It was the best I could get. We are lucky the angel was a youngster.”

Ayako peeked behind Uriel, offering kindly.

“I will wash it. Angels won’t know any better. They shouldn’t be able to.”

Aurora glared at the robes, intently. After a minute, she let out a long snarly sigh, defeated.

“No, leave it. You said you don’t know what their magic can do. I’ll handle it.” She looked up and nodded with a frown, determined to get things done. “Ariel, Ayako… Please, give me a hand.”

Ayako grinned, proud of how her daughter had inherited part of her decisiveness.

“Right away.”

Ariel was more hesitant, sure that what they were going to do was not going to be pleasant. She knew her sister well.

“You won’t like it.”

“We’ve argued already. I’ve got to do something, anything.”

In the night, they worked, concealed where no angel ventured. No one heard them whisper and plot in the shadows. They felt hope, fear and anger; the winged one was surer of her choice. Two eager blue eyes traced the runes Uriel brought, and recalled part of what she had heard in the nights, when she would beg an angel to tell her tales she had once thought to be invented. Ariel read the runes better than Uriel could, and soon understood they were on a deadline. Of what she understood, she could tell that it had been said today.

The trial had begun.

———————

 

The sun had risen once more.

He glared at it, concealed in the shadows of his old forge. He despised the sight of the sun rays, which pierced the only window in the room. It made him move, reluctantly and with anger.

He had waited here all night, in favor of venturing in a cell.

“I doubt he has gotten any sleep.”

He wished nothing more than to punch Einar, sink in that smug face of his. Once the trial was delayed, he tried to get in that jail again. Key word tried.

That bastard used stupid protocol to forbid anyone of entering at night, knowing well he wanted to visit Alexis. All those guards had his back, all gathered in the dungeon after they escorted their prisoner. They denied him entry, and told him to wait for the morning.

But the trial was scheduled at sunrise. Which probably would only leave him a few minutes with his nephew.

It probably was all the time he would be allowed, so he was going to make sure to use it right.

He stormed out of the forge, clad in the same elegant robes he had worn for the last session. He yanked the hood over his head, concealing his face under it as he crossed his door step. Every single attendee hid their face under ceremonial robes, all dressed to show the importance of the gathering.

He would play their stupid game, for now.

While walking down the street, he only had eyes for the distance. He did not care for the scattered crowds, their tense expectation. Even if the few angels he passed kept their solemn expressions, it was obvious that they were wary. All commoners had their wings tucked very close, almost grasped near their chests. Barely anyone roamed these days, only soldiers and priests. The common folk were cautious, afraid of what had been brought into their holy land. All was tainted in a dreadful calmness.

He would have marched without stop, without paying mind to the murmurs and whispers. But today, one thing managed to catch his attention. Today, a few whispers were more urgent, full of real alarm. When he walked near some lonely streets, he saw two guards standing by a young angel. Said adolescent was pale, distraught; his voice trembled while he spoke to the two soldiers.

The guards were uninterested, condescending.

“There are no demons in this holy world, scribe.”

“Only one creeps, but caged and guarded.”

The young man shied a little, noting the sharp apathetic glare he was receiving from both warriors.

“If it was not a beast what I saw, it must have been a dark spell.” His thoughtful expression only lasted a few seconds. He worded his fears again, with more reason and urgency. “I am the target of a curse, sent by the one locked in those dungeons! A grim statue came to life, and crept to force fear on me!”

Both guards exchanged looks, unconcerned and cold. While the boy tried to convince them of the importance of his seeing, a third angel neared. Angus frowned in thought when a priest reached his pupil and gave him the rant of a lifetime.

“Where are your robes?”

The young angel paled even more, and then turned to look at the elder, his mentor.

“M-master, they were-!” He stopped himself from pointing at his missing robes, in favor of explaining. His wings moved slightly while he spoke, to cover his much more humble clothes. “I have seen a devil!”

“A devil?” The elder had his priorities, a bigger concern. His wings batted angrily while he snarled in disbelief. “Do not dare jest, not today! The trial is about to proceed and you are not wearing your robes!”

“Because they were taken! A huge shadow lunged, and then disappeared into the night with them in its claws! That prisoner must have cursed me! It may not want me to attend, to be able to write of its fate! You have to believe me!”

“I believe I have heard enough. I do not have time for this nonsense of yours.” The elder glared him down and sent him away with a point of finger, which was directed at his district. “You shall go back to where I took you from. I no longer require a scribe who dares mock a ceremony like this one! You are afraid, afraid of that fallen angel! Fearful enough to invent lies with which to stay away! Shame on you!”

Being able to see a trial like this one was something every scribe dreamed of. The alarm of the nervous angel only increased after the accusations of his mentor.

“N-no, please, I am not trying to-”

He tried to reason, but he had no chance. Angels were stern and stubborn, never to change their minds.

“Be gone. Now. We’ll speak later; perhaps, if I reconsider.”

The scribe quivered, wings closed. He ran away in shame. He almost hit Angus as he did so. The blacksmith slowed his pace and glanced back as the boy ran, but looked ahead again when he heard the soldiers and elder exchange words of pride, of dismissal.

Angus paid more mind to his surroundings, thoughtful. Something was different, something that was able to lessen his intense fixation with the sacred palace. It wasn’t only what he heard, but what he saw.

These streets were close to the plains. A few circular temples stood, made of open arcs and vacant patios. Between those arcs, a figure stood under the shade of the imposing statues above. He narrowed his eyes to pay mind to the figure, because it was a few streets away, parted from the crowds. A hooded angel, another young scribe. The traditional white robes had many folds, which concealed their bodies and wings in a bright mantle.

That scribe was watching. But those eyes were not the ones that made him feel tense and wary.

He could only stare for a minute, because the figure walked away in between pillars and arcs after a few seconds. It moved away, silently and reticently.

It made him wonder what was going on, what had happened in the night. He wanted to make questions, to follow his gut. But he had to keep moving, even if curious. He knew something was different today, but he could not act impulsively. He could not waste what little time they would be given.

He marched towards the temple through the quiet streets… still feeling watched.

———————

 

Time was not something to waste.

This time, he had not looked up much from the ground; he had not gazed past his escorts. His steps had been slow but certain, never daring to delay the march towards the courtroom. When he reached that door again, he looked up at last, and realized that it was not open yet. His amber eyes glinted with surprise, at first with wariness, then with relief. A hooded figure had been waiting at the door by a statue, and had pushed past the guards to get a hold of him as soon as possible. He had winced with the touch, not realizing that it meant no harm.

When Alexis whispered his name, he had already pushed back the hood that had covered his face.

“Angus.”

His uncle noticed the tiredness and relief in his voice. He noticed a few more things, like how he seemed to try to hide some pain, surely given by a certain bastard in the night. Angus glared at the guards, who frowned with dislike when he commanded them.

“Let me have him for a minute.”

Alexis was surprised when they obeyed, when they took a few steps back. They still kept holding the chains though.

He did not care. He met his uncle’s eyes with a fatigued smile.

“No wonder I did not see you…”

“I was there, I assure you.” Angus disliked the hood he wore, very much so. His frown only grew darker, his eyes more dreadful. “Listen, kid, because you won’t be able to hear much of me in many hours. That door is going to open in a matter of minutes, or less, and from now on they are going to subject you to the worst questions they can come up with.”

“What could be worse than what they have said already?” Alexis grinned a little resentfully, now that the guards had given him space. “Maybe he-?”

Angus stopped him, with a deep glare.

“Shush now, no time for derision.” He pointed at the door, and gave him words of advice that he found necessary. “Alexis, they have already agreed that you have committed one crime. And I hope you understand, that it means that they are not going to be as easy with you today. One crime is all they needed, and they were sure to put it on you, no matter what. Now, they are going to analyze every single fact of your life, in hopes of making you the worst criminal in the history of angelic domain. They are going to ask questions, and you better answer them. Answer everything; do not dare try to stay quiet, because they will not doubt to take it out of you. When you do it, be smart. Be direct, but clever. Say truth, but the truth a priest would like to hear. Do I make myself clear, Alexis?”

Alexis stared at him, eyes partly hidden under his hair. He slowly nodded, but not without letting out his thoughts.

“Uncle, we both know that no matter what I say, they will kill me anyway. Why should I play their game?”

Angus snarled and told him bluntly his own worries.

“We better delay the end of that game as much as possible, don’t you think?”

Alexis shied under Angus’ deep glare, which told enough. He received a strong pat on the shoulder, which made the chains shake.

“You heard me. Play along, do not make them angry. Neither of us wants that bastard to kick you around freely. He needs an order or reason to do so in public, for now.”

After smiling at his nephew gently, Angus opened his mouth to speak again. Sadly, both jolted when a guard walked closer and announced that their time was over.

“Move away from the prisoner.”

Alexis feared that his uncle would not obey, because he still had a comforting hold on him. Thankfully, he let go after one last angry glance. One look was all it took, for him to understand the deep impotence Angus was feeling. His uncle wished nothing more than to give him better advice, some meaningful help… but he only told him to be submissive instead.

The last thing that Alexis saw before he was pushed forward was Angus pulling at his hood again. Surrounded by guards, he could do nothing but breathe in silently, blinded again by the light that crept through the opening door. When he opened his eyes, he grew more tired, pierced again by all the eyes that waited inside the chamber.

Like clockwork, his steps towards the stand where matched by the bell rings of the temples, which he could hear from there. As well, the sun was in perfect position, right over the seats of the judges, shining strongly through the glass.

After his chains were locked on and he stood idle, there was a grim silence. They basked on their holiness and grandness once more.

It only lasted for a minute.

“In the fifth day of the third season, we give beginning to the second session of the trial against the angel known as-”

That went on for a while. He decided to fix his eyes onto his hands, not wanting to listen to all those pointless words. It also allowed him to evade Einar’s intense stare, and Philander’s unreadable glance. They were there again, standing proudly and patiently at their tall stands.

The high priest finished a ceremonial prayer, and allowed the trial to proceed where it ended last time.

“With these words spoken, we may give way to the defense.”

“Yes, your highness.” Philander moved away from his stand and met Alexis’ eyes intently, slowly inching closer. “I shall expose what the moon hid yesterday. I will shine light onto your worst crime.”

He directed the last sentence to Alexis, not to the rest of angels.

Alexis held the stare, but he could not for long. Philander began to speak, turning his body to face all angels around him while he talked.

“Reut, angel born in the second age of angelic domain. A woman who’s destiny was written to be of grandness. A woman who trained to become a servant of our ways. A creature who succumbed to that world, its sins and evils…” The hurt and longing in Philander’s voice was evident, but his determined stance never hinted it. “She was an angel. An angel who dedicated all her life to our ways, to our beliefs. She was pure and holy, like us. And yet, she was corrupted by a human. She was compelled to sin, by one of those lowly beings that have committed the most heinous of acts through history. That man, by means we haven’t discovered yet, tainted her soul. She was taken by said man, and soon gave birth to… that monster. A monster that could have only been born out of the sins of humanity, their hidden evil. She was no demon, your highness. She may have failed in her ways, but surely did so because of humanity. In her trial, I tried to argue these very same words. And now, I will do so once more. This former angel here has also fallen for a human. The prisoner has given birth to a demon, like she did. A creature like Zelophehad has been born, with his blood.”

Alexis winced and cringed, because all the angels in the chamber made faces or gasped, horrified by Philander’s exposition. However, Philander was not done. And strange as it was, he truly meant to offer some kind of protection.

“You may find this crime horrible, disturbing. This does make him guilty of the worst of crimes. But, I say he does not hold all the guilt, that we shouldn’t smite him like a devil would be. They are not true devils; they are not part of that plague. The fault resides in humanity’s corruption. Like him, she once belonged here. She was an angel once, like he may still be. Both are, in their core-”

“I object!”

Philander blinked, taken aback. The yell did not come from the priests, but from the prosecution. Einar lunged out from his designated area and walked sharply towards him. He batted his silver wings and yelled, not giving Philander a chance to question.

“I object to the statements spoken!” Alexis flinched, because Einar opened his wings while he voiced his rebuttal loudly. “He is not an angel, and he has never been one! He has always been a devil!”

Philander raised an eyebrow and stopped facing Alexis, in favor of meeting Einar’s cold piercing eyes. He asked calmly, prodding the prosecution to explain.

“And your grounds to affirm such facts are?”

“His acts should be enough.” Einar laid one arm elegantly under a wing and glared Alexis down, who cowered slightly at his stand. “You say he has spawned a demon. Then your statements are false. All angels know that only a devil can give birth to one of its kind. Reut was a demon clad in white robes, concealed in our world with her beautiful mischievous looks. She surely came to our world from that sinful one!”

“And how would she have crossed into our land unnoticed?”

“But of course, she was the first to do so! You ancient angels always travelled back through a portal, and she could have done so as well. She looked no different. How could we distinguish a new unknown threat? She surely was formed out of evil in that land, and then traversed to ours.”

Philander moved a hand up, smiling with confidence.

“I was born before her. I can testify of her birth in this world.” Einar took a step back, because Philander whispered the next words accusingly. “Much like you can testify of his bringing.”

Einar’s eyes showed fear for a second. Alexis caught that, and he did not know if it was a good thing.

“So, Einar…” Philander leaned his head, asking Einar plainly but with intent. “If all demons come from evil… what does that make of his ascendant?”

Einar proceeded to accuse, in order to defend his perceived honor.

“Yes, he was born here. Out of an angel’s womb, like all of us.” He could not lie in that. But he could affirm that he was pure himself. “But I am not his bringer! He did not bring glory to our lineage! He brought nothing but death and misery. My wife and I begged our deity for an heir, but we only invited a monster into our lives instead.”

Alexis gasped, because Einar proceeded to lean closer to his stand, speaking to everyone while only having raging eyes for him.

“He was a curse. When he was born, he ripped her from the inside. He stole her life, in order to keep his weak body breathing, in a way that can only be described as the vilest of wheezes. That body could not have been one of an angel. All angels are born strong, or die to keep their dignity. He stayed alive. He fed on her strength, and buried her six feet under. Whatever evil preyed her, it ended forming him. An evil spell… one of a devil that crawled into our world by force and greed. This vile creature murdered my wife while she gifted it life.”

Alexis cowered from Einar’s intent stare, bowing his trembling head sideways. Philander took Einar’s attention with a question.

“And can you prove this curse? Magic needs to be studied, and we have no way to attain or test this happening.”

“Why do I need to prove this curse, when he kept on proving it himself after his birth?” The priests’ eyes glinted with recognition, because Einar related Alexis’ failures in life, his shortcomings. “A coward as a child, unable to fight or hold a sword with dignity! An ignorant heretic as a young man, disrespectful to his superiors and teachings! And as a man… a decadent waste of opportunity, too content with simplicity and easiness, lazy near the plains at day, secluded in an old forge at dawn and twilight; and in the nights… a dirty thief who seized the resources we so zealously kept for the hard times to come. All these things would never have been done by an angel! Not even Reut was so depraved in her early days!”

Einar smiled and neared the priests, looking up to them with satisfaction.

“Are these facts not true?” He raised his hands, demanding an answer from them. “Don’t I speak with reason?”

“All true, Einar.”

The high priest answered with no doubt. So Einar kept speaking, only having eyes for his superiors now.

“So now, we have established the truth! Our books don’t lie! Only devils can commit these acts! Only they can show this kind of nature! They feel compelled to sin, to be evil and flawed! No emotion but malevolence can show in their actions!”

“It is said so in the books, indeed. Demons are creatures incapable of true emotions.” Einar turned, hearing Philander affirm. “And the books can’t be misunderstood.”

“Never.” Einar nodded, with an expression full of sureness and arrogance. “They only tell truth.”

“Then…” Philander moved, allowing Einar to have a more clear view of the prisoner’s stand. “Shall we interpret this as an angelic trait?”

Einar growled silently, seeing once more a weakness that made his silver feathers sharpen with ire. The accused had not spoken up once, and he saw now why. He was leaning onto the stand, head bowed down with his hands clawing into his hair. Even if no sound was leaving him, the shaking of his body hinted perfectly that he was sobbing, clenching his teeth painfully in a grimace, eyes closed tightly. The tears stained the stand and reflected on the white stone.

Philander felt curiosity for the emotion displayed before them, but Einar felt insulted by it.

“That is just fear. He fears for his miserable life, just like every single demon about to be slain.”

“It seems all too sorrowful and grieving to me.”

“We are stronger than that. He is only mourning his fate, like a coward.”

“I have seen many angels mourn. Of all standings, warriors to farmers. These tears are similar.”

“I repeat, demons can cry in impotence! Once they feel cornered, they lash out without reason, be it with force or instinct.”

“So, this seems like suppressed anger to you? A buildup to rage?”

Einar affirmed, assuring without faltering.

“But of course, if you were to unchain him, he would lash out like any other devil!”

Philander’s eyes glinted again, once more full of curiosity.

“Is that so?”

None were ready for what came next. Alexis much less. He had not been listening; he did not want to hear anything of what was being said. He was holding his head, trying to block every single word in his mind. But what happened next snapped him back. After Philander’s question, he heard him snap his fingers. In an instant, he felt something on his shackles, and he heard everyone gasp or tense.

He blinked and tried to look up, only to catch a few things. One, the runes on the shackles had glinted. Two, Philander was looking at him intently, with his hand still up in a snapping position. Three, everyone looked ready to stand into action, more so the guards. And lastly and most importantly… the shackles were open.

He was not bound.

Philander saw the exact reaction he expected. No lunges, no attacks. Instead of taking his chance to try to regain his freedom or kill a nearby guard, Alexis stood upright and began to look anxiously around him, wary of all the weapons that were pointed at him. He raised his hands, not making a single move forward, but back. He was as surprised as everyone else, not showing the kind of fast reflexes a demon would. Pained tears still fell down his confused expression, which had not contorted into a feral scowl.

Philander turned, sure that the guards would not wound Alexis unless he bolted. He smiled at Einar, and then pointed at his sword with a finger.

“Why haven’t you unsheathed your weapon?”

Einar took a step back, now realizing he had failed to grasp his sword when the shackles opened. He was supposed to, considering he was in charge of security. He had never expected Alexis to attack, not even when he wanted him to do so.

While Einar stood there in pure bafflement, Philander moved again. He pointed at Alexis with a hand, and displayed to the priests how easily they were putting the shackles back on. Tense as a statue, Alexis was only trying to process Philander’s actions.

“According to our books, all demons would have lunged, feeling cornered and threatened. They all show a feral side. Is this correct?”

They nodded in agreement. Einar’s hand went white around the hilt of the sword.

“Then, we have multiple contradictions we must discuss and reason.” Philander held his hands together, pondering while looking up to the high ceiling. “Perhaps, it is not as simple as it seems. Maybe we can’t assert what he is so easily. Maybe, he is not an angel, nor demon. Maybe something in between, a corrupted tainted being. We can say that-”

“I am not a demon.”

Philander turned a little to look over his wings. The high priest looked away from Philander and Einar, slowly.

Alexis had spoken after a while. He did so quietly, but loud enough to be heard through the chamber. His tone was apprehensive, but direct as well. No one interrupted him, which allowed him to raise his voice a little more and look at the judges with lesser doubt.

“I’m an angel. I still am.”

The guards were looking at him carefully, but they did not shut him up. He had interrupted plainly, without meaning insult. While everyone stared at him with strangeness or judgment, there was one who did with arrogance.

“You are not.” Philander frowned, because Einar made his move. He marched fast towards Alexis. This time the sword was out. “You are nothing like us.”

Alexis soon had his own sword pointed at his chest, yet he did not flinch. Surprisingly, he showed anger, after all the anxiety he endured. He yanked at the chains and spoke directly to Einar, daring to show defiance to the one who made him crumble in tears. He had been humiliated many times, but no longer would he let him do so without speaking back. He had enough of the mockery and pain he was constantly given. No more would he let him insinuate that his actions had anything to do with his mother’s death.

“I am different, but I’ve had everything you have! I have always been like you all! I had a life in this citadel! I had wings like you!”

“And where are they now?! Without them, you are no angel! You should be dead without them!”

“I may have lost them, yes! And wonder how?! I lost them when you pushed me down! When I was chosen by that stupid orb!” Alexis snarled, noting how every single angel paled. He had dared insult their most sacred artefact. It was something that he was bound to pay for. Yet he decided that he could not backtrack now. “That’s right, I said it! That thing chose me! It shined near me! I was bound to a demon, like the highest of your lot have been! I was not only an angel, but according to your books, a damn important one!”

One of the judges questioned him with a hand on his chest, expression twisted with disbelief and anger. No one had cursed in this chamber, no one.

“How dare you disrespect the sacred orb and this holy palace?”

“I think I have the right to say whatever I want about that shiny ball, considering it disrespected me when it promised me certain death.” Alexis broadened his shoulders; in a move that would have opened his wings open wide. “Why do you blame me for my lack of wings, when it was that sphere and your hands what made them be ripped apart?”

Einar had stayed his hand on his sword. He had been keeping himself from running it through Alexis. He was one thought away from doing it; he was as tempted as the priests.

“You let them be ripped yourself, weakling.” Einar warned with a quiet hiss, one that was composed but cold as ice. “One more word and I will make you prefer the pain you felt in that moment.”

“Your stab would be nothing compared to what I felt that day.” Einar’s eyes widened in surprise, because Alexis grinned sarcastically and leaned to whisper, not caring for the tip of the sword against his chest. “So, do it. Let them see how you act in the cell, when no one can see you. Let them see you wound someone in chains, like the mighty soldier you are.”

Those amber eyes had changed. No longer could Einar see what he had when they were young. They always had shown anxiousness and doubt. Now they showed everything he despised: rebellion and self-government.

Alexis yanked at the chains again with his fists, inviting him to lose control.

“Come on; show everyone how great you are!”

Einar swung his sword back, silent but raging while taking drive. In that very same moment, Angus stood sharply from his seat.

Neither finished their intending moves.

The sword halted sharply over the stand. Einar heaved and stopped, inches away from cutting two red wings.

Angus sat back tiredly, seeing Einar recoil, unable to slay Alexis, not with another angel in between. His nephew had not been killed. But that did not mean he had not been stricken.

Philander glared at Einar while standing near Alexis’ fainted body. He curled his fingers and wings calmly, still feeling the hit he gave Alexis with his fist. He had taken him out swiftly, preventing any more words from him. The prisoner was now dropped onto the stand, eyes closed with a new bruise on the side of his head.

The judges watched with cold gazes as prosecution and defense exchanged a long cold silence. The guards stood near the accused, which was still lying on his stand, unresponsive. The whole chamber grew dead quiet.

It was Philander who broke the silence. He looked at the windows above the priests, and while noting how the sun still shined, advised.

“I believe we can’t proceed until the moon shines, highness.”

The high priest looked at Einar for approval. He answered with one slow nod, expression calm and stern once more. He sheathed his sword and folded his wings, looking away from Alexis.

The prosecution would not press on. And neither would the defense.

Angus clenched his fists, hearing the word of the high priest, watching every single move the guards made while they took Alexis away, dragged.

“This session must be postponed, much sooner than expected. Today more crimes have been confessed and proven by the prisoner. This…” Angus lost all emotion in his eyes, feeling cold as the next words echoed. “This can only force the jury to an agreement. Death. No appeals.”

The judges were calm, even when they voiced such cold words.

The angel of silver wings was cold too. His eyes were unreadable while he looked upwards, to the rows. Both angels did not hint their emotions, but both knew well what the other felt. Satisfaction and grief.

Einar only looked away from Angus when Philander spoke, without hurry.

“I agree he is deserving of death. However…” He offered, knowing well that the judges did not wish for the trial to end yet. They were as curious as him. “We still must proceed to the interrogations and formal sentences. His way of execution can only be determined once his true nature is confirmed. We need more time, and we can spare it.”

“Of course, Philander.” One of the judges clapped his hands, ordering his scribe in the rows to note every following word. “We give the scholars one day before the next meeting, for them to record all that has been said in this room. As well, we show the prisoner grace, by allowing him one day to ponder more humble manners, which may help him find a more dignified end. We dismiss the trial until a second sunrise.”

The day had not ended yet. The sun still shined.

Philander was the first to leave the room, much to Einar’s interest. The angel of red wings gave him a warning, whispering as he passed near his silver wings.

“I’ll be the one to interrogate the prisoner until the next session. You are not to enter the cell until then.”

Einar would have objected, but he did not. Philander had all the right to forbid him of nearing Alexis, as he had a higher rank; and as well, because next time… it was the prosecution’s turn to lead the trial. His eyes pierced Philander while he left, pondering. He knew very well that there could not be any interrogations with Alexis fainted, and that the ancient angel favored him.

He was the last to leave the sacred chamber, standing quietly near his stand and books. His previous anger turned into pure coldness once more.

He would wait patiently in order to bring him down.

—————–

 

The sun was descending above, very slowly.

The towers loomed over the streets, casting great shadows over every plaza and temple. The figures standing under their domes became less evident, but still all ever watchful.

A group of young angels marched out of a few temples, like every single day. Their steps were free at last, synchronized with the sound of the bells above them. With no more duties to attend, they parted the march away from the older novices, who still had to take care of many tasks.

Still holding their books, they directed their glances to the outer patios, near the plains. There they sat on huge steps of stone, protected from the last rays of sun by a comforting shade. The inside of the walls was only used in the early morning, and no elders roamed now to pierce them with their attentive eyes. This open pantheon was the perfect sanctuary for them to rest in the evenings.

All always gathered in silence, quietly. And as quietly, they always began their casual conversations with zealousness.

“How many scriptures have they made you write today?”

The others finally looked up from their books and papers. They met eyes with more emotional expressions, not having to keep an unbreakable focus.

“Too many.” They were always zealous of speaking against their tasks. But today they could not keep it inside. “All were about devils and their acts.”

No writing about their choirs, or their grand architecture. Not even their prayers.

All was an incessant echo of the creatures they battled, and the horrible acts they committed. More than what was normally said.

They began to show their curiosity, not paying mind to the fact that another figure walked closer from the distance, in the shadows.

“It is said that they have sharp fangs. Tails. Horns.” The boy motioned to his own dark wings, flapping them with wonder. “Some even have wings like us.”

“None of the statues on my temple show them with wings.”

“But they do have them. My master had a book in his hands today, and I could see clearly the depiction of one.”

“But it did not look like ours, surely. My mentor says they are crooked and deformed.”

“Well… they were not the same, of course.”

The boys stopped gossiping. Their eyes looked sideways, because they heard the sound of someone sitting on some steps afar. They spotted another young figure, clad in scribe robes. She was concealing part of her body behind a pillar, but she was close enough to be seen fully, to be heard.

She was listening; her body language was apprehensive, timid. Her eyes were hidden under her white hood, her gloved hands were clasped tightly between the folds of her tunic.

The angels stared at her for a minute, but then frowned with sympathetic understanding.

“A scribe.” He looked at the others with a sigh, glancing sideways to the far streets. “From the inner districts, I bet.”

“She looks anxious.” He swayed a little on the steps, caressing his fair wings. “Can’t blame her; probably wanted to get far from the palace.”

All were anxious. She was not the first of her status to roam here, in more humble places. Many young angels had gathered further and further away from the sacred temple, in the evenings, wondering what lurked in those cells.

In fact, the group gathered here had not been as big before. The group had grown since the trial had begun. Not all of them were as talkative though. Like her, others simply sat reading, or rested thoughtfully under the engraved runes.

These three were to become simple workers, and so dared to voice their worries more loudly.

“What do you think it is like?”

“What?”

“You know what.” He leaned; peeking to make sure no guards could spot them from the tall towers. “The devil.”

Unknown to them, the girl heard those whispers. Her head perked up subtly, and her eyes opened more under her hood, with another expression. She stood slowly and carefully while they kept theorizing.

“It looks like the statues on the inner temples.”

“No, no. It has wings, crooked like the ones of forest animals. Hairy and big.”

“You are both wrong.” They kept talking. They were unaware that the figure was close, standing shyly over them. “Master has said that it looks like a human. I heard him murmur angrily, questioning the reports of his peers.”

“A human? But that is not possi-”

“Excuse me.”

The three blinked and looked back. They leaned their heads, seeing the girl leaning partly hidden behind a pillar, even though they could see her clearly. She kept her head bowed, her fair wings tucked strongly under the long mantle of her robes. Her mouth opened only a little bit as she spoke again, her soft voice unsure and shaky.

“Have you seen this… devil?”

The boys narrowed their eyes, finding her closeness strange. Rarely any angels of different statuses socialized. They did not mind her there, and were quick to notice that she was leaning back, thinking of taking back her advances.

Even though her clothes were grand, they noticed her clenched hands, and how messy her wings looked under her long folds. She probably had not brushed them at all, judging by how parted and threaded they seemed.

As they addressed her presence, she brushed her wings, avoiding eye contact.

“We have not seen it.” He shook his head with the others, mistaking anxiousness for shyness. “Only a few have.”

She took a step back, slowly. Her thoughts were not as quiet as her voice. Hidden, her eyes were fixed strongly on their wings, their features and expressions. They would have sworn she was about to bolt. But something made her keep her feet still, something that made her take a breath and ask once more.

“Do you know where they keep him?”

She shied again when they answered, but she did not walk away.

“No other place could they keep a creature so vile but in the dungeon of the holy palace, the biggest fortress. All the guards have their eyes on it.” She glanced in the wrong direction, which they found weird. “Say, are you worried that it may escape the cell and-”

“Thank you.” It was said with pure gratitude, as quickly as the next words. “It is all I need to know.”

She walked away hastily. She hoped over a few steps and turned a corner, heading for parallel streets.

They exchanged thoughtful leans of heads, confused by her words.

“How could she have not known that?”

The other two shrugged, still seated.

While they tried to enjoy the rest of the evening, the girl hurried trough a lonely plaza.

She kept her head low, her wings tucked close. Her hands fidgeted a lot, and her breaths came out labored. She dared not bring more attention to herself. She kept eyeing the towers above, even though she was almost at the plains. She noticed how the soldiers looked towards the palace and not towards the streets she marched.

She thought she was alone, but one more roamed the lonely streets.

She yelped loudly and batted her wings strongly, because she collided with someone. Distracted by the towers, she had not noticed an angel walking out of an alley. It was a very small alley, which no one should have been roaming, considering it was not easy to walk through. She quivered and recoiled while the man grumbled, shooting her a scolding glare under his big hood.

“Watch were you’re going you-”

“S-sorry!”

She bolted away from him, quite agile in her escape. However, he noticed that she stumbled a little, and that she was headed in another complete direction than before. She was chaotic in her escape, like if she had been scared out of her mind. He blinked, noticing he had seen her before.

“Hey!”

The young girl ran through another alley, and when he peeked into it, she was completely gone. He heard some fluttering nearby, at the plains. But he did not see anything when he walked closer to them.

He frowned. He glared at the distance, the only way that girl could have gone. There was no one in the streets apart from him.

The blacksmith let out a really long breath and paced back to his route, headed for a lonely tavern in the outer district. He would drink his sorrows and time away. There was no time for the silly things he kept imagining.

As he walked through quiet paths, he wondered what a red-winged angel was doing, the only one allowed to near that jail.