The droplet hanged loosely, looming over her mouth. When it did fall, it did not satiate her thirst any. Her eyes narrowed at the waterskin, her claws clutching it so tight that any water inside would pour out. There was none.

“We’re out.”

Uriel and Alexis snarled, glancing back as they heard her whisper tiredly; there was the unmistakable sound of wings twitching in exasperation. Even though the two were leading their march through the deserted fields with determination, Lykaios seemed to be managing much better than anyone. Aurora slumped onto his back with her wings as open as possible, letting them drag behind her. Ariel sent her a sympathetic look, knowing well her hairy limbs were making her sweat more than anyone, perhaps with the same intensity as one of Alexis’ fevers.

While Alexis averted his gaze, Uriel kept looking back at the other three, his eyes hinting how much he would wish to ease their exhaustion. He would wish to call for a small stop, to rest, but he knew they shouldn’t. His next whisper held worry, for them and the merciless sun above.

“Hang on, we are almost there.”

Another was not as hopeful and optimistic.

“Maybe, if the map is not lying…”

Uriel scolded his angel with a glare, moral low enough already. Alexis simply glared at the distance, wishing nothing more than to be able to summon ice, as some priests knew to do. After all, he had to fake being one when he set foot in this scorching land.

That first town had not been hostile; no one had dared accuse him of being an angel, no matter how strongly those mutineers had tried to affirm it. However, it was not welcoming either. No one gave any sympathy; coin dictated in which regard they would be greeted. Demons could hold rule over their own business and commerce, race no longer as relevant.

They did not delay much in that town. Leaving was essential, as there was no seclusion, no intimacy. Most important, they did not have a cart anymore. They had been struggling for far too long, and so, they wished nothing but to find solace. Crowds were something they learnt to avoid, for decades. They bought what they needed and a map, trusting it truly hinted where they could head to next.

Its layout did not bring them much hope. North and south, there was nothing but arid lands, and the coast only offered towns like that one. They would not find a home through those regions. And so, they set off south-west. The deserts apparently had an end, and they would try to traverse them. Cities stood far past these scorched parts, much lusher and alive.

If that failed… they would course south, hoping they would come upon a place where they could carry on with their lives, a territory like they once had. No garden would ever grow in these sandy plains.

Uriel let out a flaming breath again, him and Ariel able to invoke their own heat to repel the one of the scorching sun. Or at least muffle it, conceal it in their minds. The others were not as lucky. Even though Lykaios walked with might and carried Aurora without much effort, it was no secret that he was hiding his own exhaustion. He was too prideful to admit this environment bothered him.

Alexis, for once, was glad he did not have his wings anymore. He still showed well his dislike for these lands, climbing angrily any dune they found in their path. None of them knew spells that could invoke a breeze or coolness. Many things could aid them, but they only knew of fire and lethal glows, which would only be summoned upon the worst of threats.

“No one to see my angelic might now, and I can’t beckon any damn-“

“Save your breaths.”

He barked back at his demon, his mood not easy to control at the moment.

“Save yours. I can go on without water for days.” He scouted the distance, a low growl escaping him. “How far is that small settlement anyway? You need water.”

They did not need it more than him, but he still acted like if they did. Ariel commented, grabbing the map from the small handcart Lykaios pulled.

“Only a few miles, in theory.” She eyed the paper carefully, noting how it was slightly inaccurate, not showing the many ridges they saw in the three days they had been walking. “We should find it at the feet of a crag, shadowed and secluded. The sun should hit less fiercely under its shade, which is surely why people live there.”

That was all Alexis needed to bolt forward again, clutching another empty waterskin tightly. They struggled to keep his pace, his anger and frustration managing to fuel his moves as much as fear could. The only thought that roamed in his mind was the one of a well, no matter how many folks could roam around it. He hated crowds, but he did not fear them, not anymore.

By the time they spotted the crag in the far distance, the sun was setting. The air was growing cold, less hurtful for those wings, and still, he did not slow down. All soon sighed, noticing that the small settlement was only there because of that well and the shade, no green fields around it. Again, there was only desert around, its streets as compacted as possible. As well, other demons roamed, even if less than before. That demonic presence was not something they found comforting, even if it brought less oppression than what they had left behind.

Without a word, they agreed that this place could not offer a home. There was no chance of them building something at the outskirts, and all buildings were claimed. They could not pay for a stay in the inn forever, even if they could provide assistance to some native and gain a wage.

The inn offered them seclusion for a night. But then they had to embrace the scorching fields once more. They were still hopeful, having seen very little of the continent. Their hunt resumed, a little more tiredly, but still determined.

Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a place where they could feel at home.

—————–

 

The cold silence was broken.

“Sir.”

The call was, as always, whispered reverently and with no doubt. But there was uncertainty in the one who voiced it, hidden very deep, below profound sternness and conviction. There was always a shiver, suffered by anyone who dared approach the high thrones, no longer vacant. Once, they hosted a high priest, now an imperator.

All had mourned such loss, but everyone knew it was unavoidable… in one way or another.

Weakness, it was a thing angels despised. And no one despised it more than the one who stood below the thrones, glad to see that the highest one would no longer seat an impassive defector. He could still remember that indifferent whisper, spoken in solitude, only he allowed to approach that fateful day.

“That world is lost. Our deity scarcely calls us forth. No souls shall be condemned by my word. No more appeals, Einar.”

That man had once led with wisdom and strength, seen their battles, and sometimes joined them. He had not been witness to his past glorious lead, and by looking at him, he could not imagine he was looking at the same man from those ages. Perhaps time did change souls. Some could grow stronger, and others frail.

In the end, no pleading allowed him and his men to leap down. The abyss was forbidden, passage only meant for the chosen. Words would not allow angels to soar down, step into the disorder they were looking away from. No arguments made that priest submit… so his flames did instead.

Einar finally turned to acknowledge the soldier that stepped into the huge chamber. He folded his wings and lowered his hand, which he had been contemplating in silence. Every day, he felt like if he could still feel the fire he invoked that night, alone with that timeworn priest. No screams echoed as he let them sink into his lungs, his hand over his mouth. His voice hinted no remorse, not then, not now.

“Hope you have news I approve of.”

“I fear not, sir.”

His eyes narrowed, noting the reverence and loyalty in the angel. If any knew of what he had done, there would be none of those things, and he would have surely been sentenced to the worst of fates. He hid well his responsibility, however, all wounds internal. No one dared question the death or profane the body, because the high priest was always venerated. Still, his actions were virtuous, for their kind never had been so dissolute and lethargic. That priest truly should have perished in grief long ago, for not leading their kind against the sins of that world. He hinted his frustration and anger in his next demand, now holding much more authority.

“Do report.”

There was a pause, a breath taken.

“We lost the city.”

Einar’s wings twitched and his expression seemed to darken a little more, even if it was already fouled by all the scars he wore.

“Let me repeat, just in case my ears deceive me.” He began to stride closer, a hand over the handle of his silver sword. “That city, past that valley, which you struggled to seize and rid of vermin, is lost. A city that has tall walls and only two gates, easy to defend from any kind of attack, thanks to our obvious racial superiority. It is… lost?”

The soldier closed his eyes for a moment and folded his wings, to not hint any dread in his next whisper.

“I regret bringing such news, but we had to fall back. We do hold the might humans and common devils lack, but the problem resides in our numbers. Humans from the south keep advancing through the border, too many, and we-“

“You cowered upon simple creatures, which rely on stolen wisdom.” Einar glared, not a growl escaping him, even if his coldness was irate. “Unacceptable. If we had not leapt through the abyss, those humans could have reached the gateway by now. God is truly testing us.”

“But the orb is not-“

“It does not shine, indeed. No guidance. And you know why?” The soldier trembled, because others entered the chamber; many high ranked militants, who had seized leadership in the citadel, slowly but without falter. “The orb is silent because we have failed to reach our deity’s expectations. God is not giving up on that world, but in us. We are proving to be weak, unlike our ancestors. Perhaps humans are the favoured race now, given that they are cleansing those lands of devils. No, we can’t let that be. We shall not be forgotten by fate.”

Many great angels had stepped forth in those times; young, with fresh blood to shed for their future. He was no different.

“Come.” And so they did. All those warriors moved behind Einar, following him out the chamber towards the plaza. “It is time us soldiers pave the way for our kind’s future. There shall be no glory in which to pray without battling for it.”

Those angels truly were loyal to their vows, their world. But like any angel, they were voracious for exaltation and grandeur. The militant side of their culture had grown tired of being an asset, long ago overshadowed by priests and their conceit.

By the time they reached the streets, they were not the only ones who walked through them. The sun was ascending above them, announcing a new day; perhaps a new age. Without word, all guards, soldiers, and warriors joined their march towards the outskirts. They had watched Einar’s rise in power with interest, for it would precede theirs.

As foretold and planned, high ranked officials began to call from the highest towers, beckoning the populace to witness the climax of their coup. Priests did cower, because some elders were surrounded and kept away from the crowds, as soon as they tried to question their summoning. Some elders did in fact join willfully, agreeing with such intents.

It was a slow and exhausting ascension to sovereignty. But now it was time for him to wield their might to its full potential, to reach for the grandness they deserved.

Purge the weak and foul…

He would never admit it, but there was one thought and wish much more prevalent in his mind, much stronger than the one of glory and greatness. He desired retribution.

Soon, most of the populace had wandered out of homes, crop fields, temples and workshops. The streets were vacant, for all had followed the march to the fields that surrounded the citadel. There were faint murmurs, only quieted by the priests that saw this gathering as historic.

All angelic domain congregated by the sea, their sacred abyss seen past its dark waters. One stood by the shore, surrounded by the huge angelic army, glaring at the spot from where he emerged burned and scarred.

“How many of you remember the times in which not only the chosen would leap to fight?!” Only a few, and all of them priests, never having set foot between the massacres started by the first devil. “My people, why did we decide to wait idly until beckoned by the orb?! Have you forgotten the history of your ancestors?! They spilt blood without call, for they knew they had to act!”

All fell silent, a silver winged angel calling loudly, pointing at the abyss.

“We always swear to follow the will of our maker, and yet, we wait for him to speak! We wait, when we have his desires written in stone! We can see with our own eyes why he no longer voices himself! We ignore what is to be done!”

Einar raised his hand in flames once more, wielding the fire like a guiding torch, pointing at the waters.

“Such is our passivity, that our own world was breached! Demons roamed our lands, unstopped! And what did we do next?! Nothing! We expected that orb to shine, voice what our counter should be! Can’t you see, it has always been clear?!” He made his hand loom over the sea, the waves now gleaming with the light of his flames. “The orb began to bind us when demons began to spread like a plague! An infection we never ended! We all leapt once, bound or not! Did we perhaps grow tired?! Countless of angelic lives have been lost, but they were not enough! We have never done enough, and we will soon be forgotten, perhaps erased!”

He moved his hand even closer to the water, and all angels cringed or snarled when the light revealed two sharp eyes gazing from the depths. They belonged to a creature they had never managed to destroy, unlike the many others in their world.

“Beings much viler than these sea creatures will one day reach for our home, again. And we will be unprepared for their numbers. Only some of us hold the skill to fight, to battle. All of us are strong, but so are they. We are bringing shame upon ourselves.”

As if ordered to, the soldiers near him invoked their own flames, hands ready. They made them loom over the water too, holding nothing but disgust for those beings in the depths.

“I say, it is time to prove our divinity… lest we lose it to lesser beings.” At last, the fires intensified and poured downwards. All angels observed how the surface began to boil, enough for that creature to sink away in instinct. “From now on, all who do not hold a profession of need shall join our forces. Essentials will no longer be traded at the market, but allowed at each home by merit, scheduled by the highest of scribes. Artisans and low priests will no longer occupy their time in arts that do not aid our survival. Many may join our forces willfully, no matter which is their origin. As well, elders will bless family lines with more unions, to ensure our losses are avenged by younger blood.”

A scribe peeked in between the crowd, eyeing his tools in his hold with a frown. A glint of determination crossed his blue eyes as he gazed upon the soldiers, so familiar to him. The words were inspiring, heartening.

That young scribe was just one of many. Many angels stepped forth, calling their family names and their occupations. Soon, they would leave them behind to stride into war, a decade of training a mere season for an angel. A huge crowd gathered around the soldiers, joining them if they knew fiery spells. Priests, artisans, lower soldiers, all stood upon the waters, and whipped their flames upon them as well.

Einar smiled coldly, seeing the air fill with steam, the dark waters now concealed below it. He could no longer discern them below their flames, but he knew they were boiling to a deadly point, for he could hear the wails of agony of the beings that lurked in it. For so long they had lived there, escaping their grasp and purge. No more they could escape; there was nowhere they could hide to evade their hellfire.

Nothing escaped death in the waters. The huge sea-creatures began to drift lifeless, after ages of endurance. Deep below on the sand, half-buried, a trident shattered. The weapon had been hidden there for a long time, ever since demons stepped into angelic land. But the hateful heat reached it too now, foreboding the cleansing that was promised.

Einar retrieved his hand, while the ones around him kept casting their fire. His eyes set onto the abyss ahead, his wings shivering with anticipation. That city was taken and burned not long ago, but he received no reports of a hunt being successful. His target was not hiding there.

They would burn that world, as he promised. And he would hear the cries of the one who had dared evade death.