by M. D. Grimm
Asagoroth called them mates.
“You mean,” Trystan whispered, his throat dry, “that you think angels and demons should mate?”
“Yes.”
“B-but the offspring—”
“Will inhabit the Middle Realm.”
It suddenly made sense. The Middle Realm was where order and chaos marched alongside each other. Though he’d never been to the Lower Realms, he could only assume the Middle Realm held elements from the Upper and Lower, flawlessly intertwined the way the Light Bringer had planned.
Didn’t he once think he and Asagoroth were part of a greater design?
“You see?” Annalise whispered.
Trystan nodded. “But Asagoroth and I… we can’t have children.”
“Of course not. Can you imagine what the offspring of a force such as he would produce?”
He’d rather not.
“You two were meant to be together,” she said. “You are a perfect match. You temper him, Trystan. You two are the start of it all. It should have been started a millennium ago, if angels had listened to Gabryl. But now we have a second chance to do things right.”
Trystan stared into his sister’s eyes and saw something there he’d never seen before, something as if from another angel. Another life. She seemed like a different angel, and yet not at the same time. There were ages in her eyes, far surpassing her years, and Trystan couldn’t shake the feeling he’d stared into such eyes before in his life as Roland.
Was this truly the Light Bringer’s design after all?
Annalise stood. “When the guards bring you to the block, I will free you. You will find Asagoroth and convince him to lead the demons here.”
Trystan stood on shaky legs. “I first have to convince him of this.”
“I would be surprised if a powerful being such as he hasn’t thought of this before.”
Trystan could only shake his head.
“Trust me, please, brother. The majority of angels are gathered in Emphoria, and it is the perfect moment to strike.”
“But the dome barrier—”
“I will disable it.”
His eyes widened. “What happened to my law-abiding sister?”
Her smile was sharp. “She died when her brethren drove off her favorite brother.”
“Anna.”
She shook her head and pulled away from his hand. “No, if you touch me, I will fall apart again. There is no time. Trust me, brother, I will free you.”
“You’re the only angel who holds my trust.”
Her smile beamed like a shard of sunlight, momentarily illuminating the cell. Then she was gone, shutting the door, bolting it. Trystan sank down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
The guards weren’t long in coming. They chained his wrists behind his back before leading him out of the cell, down a long, narrow hallway, then up steep steps, into the light. He blinked, squinted. He was on a large platform—the execution platform—where a block of ruby stone sat. His insides shuddered, though he managed to keep his face blank. His head would be chopped off. Where is Anna?
The fluttering sounds of thousands of wings, the chattering of thousands of voices, filled the air around him. It was strange to be back home, to see the cold spires, the angelic faces, the red sun, and clouds underneath. It looked more foreign than the Middle Realm. Eyes fastened on him as he was pushed toward the ruby, and he wondered if he would be ill.
Commander Lavella stood to the right, her back to him, a parchment in her hand. Trystan had seen a handful of executions and knew charges would be proclaimed before his beheading. The topmost crime would be treason, he was sure.
The high chancellor stood on a balcony overlooking the platform. Trystan could barely make out his face but he didn’t care to. Trystan stood in place, head high, and the moment Lavella began reading the charges in her powerful voice, he closed his eyes.
His mind searched and was free to wander far past Emphoria.
Asagoroth.
He found his mate in what he thought was impressive time, but he was brought up short by what felt like a wall of fire. Would he be singed if he tried to penetrate it? Was Asagoroth still hunting? No, he couldn’t be. The wall from before had been solid and unyielding. This was living rage.
He debated for half a second, still vaguely listening to the charges being read, though it sounded very far away. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the fire. It burned. Trystan screamed and slammed back into himself, stumbling backward. He would have fallen if the two guards hadn’t held his arms. Everyone stared at him, but he didn’t care. Sweating, panting with pain, Trystan knew that fire was Asagoroth’s mind. Yes, he was hunting, but it wasn’t a hunt for food. It was one for vengeance.
“He’s coming,” he whispered.
“The traitor will hold his tongue, or it will be cut out!” Lavella said.
Trystan stood and bared his teeth. “Your death is coming to you, swift and sure and merciless. Fight or flee, the fires will find you.”
“Enough!” the high chancellor said. “I’ve heard enough from the traitor. We end this now.”
Commander Lavella gave the order, and Trystan was shoved down on his knees, his head pressed to the ruby. But even as he wondered if Annalise would keep her word, the crowd began to shout.
A sudden weight pressed against his back, and he smelled his sister, felt her hair brush his cheek. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he popped them open. His sister was lying across his back, her head on his, shielding him from the executioner’s axe.
“Anna!” His voice was choked.
“Annalise!” Commander Lavella sounded beyond shocked.
Trystan saw part of the crowd, and they looked as stunned as Lavella.
“You will hear me speak!” Annalise shouted. “You will all hear me and swallow your warmongering. I am one of you. I am an angel, I am chosen, and I can see the deadly path we run down, heedless of the pain it has caused and will cause. I claim Trystan as my blood and my brother, and I demand the right of transference.”
“No!” Trystan squirmed under his sister, fighting against his bonds. “Dammit, Anna, I won’t let you!”
“Hush.” She poked him hard in the ribs.
The right of transference was rarely if ever used. It meant Annalise would take Trystan’s place on the chopping block. Only blood kin could demand it if one of their own was to be executed.
“Denied!” Commander Lavella strode forward. “I deny your demand and your claim that he is your brother. He chose a demon above his own people. He is outcast.”
Lavella gripped Annalise’s arm, but despite the commander’s strength, Annalise held firm to Trystan, her arms wrapped around his waist.
“I cannot be denied. We were both born from you. Therefore we are blood, no matter what is said or decreed. I claim him.”
Trystan missed what was said next because a wall of flame brushed against his mind. He flinched, but while hot, it didn’t burn as before.
Trystan.
Trystan gritted his teeth against the sheer force of Asagoroth’s voice. The violence that vibrated through it was painful and caused his head to throb.
“He is coming,” he said for Annalise alone.
“Then fly hard, fly swift, and find him.”
Trystan suddenly realized his hands were free.
“Anna—”
“Go.” Annalise leapt up, grabbed the executioner’s axe, and swung it at the two guards, who dodged, shocked by the move. Lavella moved in, but Trystan was already running, shimmering his wings substantial. He didn’t look back despite the intense urge to protect his sister. Feeling like a coward, but seeing no other choice since if he didn’t leave, they would all die, he launched into the air. His wings were still wounded, which made it hard to fly, but he flapped hard, struggling against the pain and stiffness. The spectacle shocked everyone, and the soldiers gave chase after a significant hesitation. Trystan dodged around spires, stayed low, and managed
to keep ahead of them. He didn’t know where to go yet, but since the flames were still in his mind, he touched them.
Asa, hold your charge, I—
Images of flame, destruction, and the blackened bones of angels seared into his mind, nearly dropping Trystan from the sky.
No, Asa! I am free, do you hear me? Free! Where are you?
Below the realm of the dead.
That thought shook Trystan to the core, as did the menace in his mate’s voice. Asagoroth would consider the Upper Realm that of the soon to be dead. Trystan dove down, shooting through the clouds, toward the Middle Realm. The strength of Asagoroth’s mind grew stronger the farther he descended, meaning he was getting closer.
“Asa, I am coming to you.” Trystan could no longer think with his panicked mind. He had to say the words. “My love, I am nearly to you. Do you feel me? Do you hear me?”
The moment he burst out of the clouds, he gasped and jolted to a stop, his wings protesting at the sudden halt.
There was nothing but black below. Where before there were the wondrous planets inhabiting the Middle Realm, now he could only see darkness. But in that darkness was heat that burned and melted, and every now and then, there was a glimpse of fire. White fire.
“Asagoroth!”
The pressure inside his head never lessened, but it would seem Asagoroth was too far gone in bloodlust to hear him, to comprehend what he was saying. Trystan looked up at the clouds. Anna could already be dead. But what she told him wasn’t. There was always a grand design for all the realms, and if his brilliant sister believed it, so would he.
Looking down, Trystan took a deep breath and plunged into the black.
Chapter Fourteen
The heat was unpleasant and suffocating. Coughing, Trystan sucked in what air he could as he blindly descended, knowing his dragon was somewhere inside.
“Asa!” He continued to scream his name, even though his throat was becoming dry.
His already abused wings were now weeping with agony, and some of his wounds were bleeding again, staining the bandages and robe.
“I’m here, Asa. I’m here. My love, I’m here!”
A flame suddenly burst out of nothing and licked against one of his wings. Screaming, Trystan spun around, slapping at the sparks, exhaustion making his movements drunken and stilted. His wings were beginning to falter, to lose the ability to keep him aloft. Panicked, Trystan struggled but realized he was falling, tumbling even farther into the black, into the heat.
“Asagoroth!”
Trystan.
Perhaps it was his fear or his panic, but something must have finally penetrated Asagoroth’s mind.
“Help me, Asa!”
Something moved in the darkness, something that flew rapidly toward him. Trystan’s eyes widened as he saw the outline of a great beast become visible, as flames were seen now and then with every movement.
Had Asa grown bigger? Again?
Trystan fell toward Asagoroth, and he reached up one mighty, clawed paw and caught him. Moaning, Trystan lay still for a long moment, waiting for the phantom sensation of falling to ease.
“Trystan.”
He shivered. “I’m here,” he said weakly. “I can’t breathe, Asa. The fire.”
With a massive sweep of his wings, Asagoroth cleared away the black and the fire, and fresh air poured over Trystan, who gulped it down greedily.
“Trystan. Trystan.” Asagoroth kept repeating his name, and he gently, so gently, touched Trystan’s stomach with his enormous snout, pressing in. Trystan slapped his hand against Asagoroth’s scales, panting, his sweat causing his hair to stick to his face.
“My love, what happened?”
“Look into my mind and see,” Trystan said, too exhausted and in pain to speak anymore. His poor wings would never be the same.
Asagoroth gently stirred inside his head, and he closed his eyes, trembling, the sensation far more intimate than any they’d yet shared.
“A union between angels and demons,” Asagoroth said aloud, receding from his mind. “I see now. Yes, I see. It was always to start with you and me: I, the last of the dragons, and you, one who chose to be unchosen, an angel who could love and accept a demon.”
“We have to save Anna.” Trystan struggled to sit up. He met Asagoroth’s gaze.
“Yes, we do.”
Trystan jerked in surprise.
Asagoroth’s eyes darkened. “She protected you, Trystan, and solved the riddle of the Light Bringer. I owe her. I shall protect her as I do you.”
Love bursting inside him, Trystan wrapped his arms around Asagoroth’s snout and nuzzled him. Asagoroth crooned.
“I still wish for vengeance.”
“I know. But it would seem you were never meant to have it. Vengeance is not what’s needed.”
Asagoroth growled but didn’t argue.
Trystan pulled back. “Can you still corral the demons? Convince them of the union?”
A jerky rumble came from Asagoroth, and Trystan knew he was laughing.
“I am Dragon, my dear angel. I lead. Demons follow.”
Demons were darkly beautiful. Trystan had never seen so many up close, and the drawings in books didn’t do them justice. In fact, he thought the artists were cruel in their depictions. Some demons were black of skin like Asagoroth in his other form, but others were deathly pale, different than angels’ skin, but not by much. Their eyes were always bright, a multitude of colors, and their wings were leathery like Asagoroth’s. The Lower Realm was the complete opposite of the Upper Realm, as if he were looking in a mirror. Onyx and marble spires jutted down from dark clouds, just as the angels’ spires jutted up out of pale clouds. The spires were connected as the angelic structures were, with glass corridors. Everything was dark, pools of fire everywhere the only illumination given. It wasn’t a desolate land as he was given to believe. There was growth here, food aplenty for demons, but much different from what was in the Upper or Middle Realm. It was hot, and Trystan sweated uncomfortably. The demons were scantily clad, some only wearing enough cloth around their waists to be marginally decent, but the females wore nothing to cover their breasts.
The instant the demons saw Asagoroth, all of them fell to their knees, bowing their heads, adults and children alike. Trystan sat on Asagoroth’s head, his wings shimmered intangible. They’d had enough abuse—he would let Asagoroth do the flying. He received odd looks from the demons, but he was shocked to see nothing hostile in their expressions. There was curiosity, wariness, even some appreciation for his beauty. Trystan had to wonder if the reason for their acceptance was his obvious attachment to Asagoroth.
Asagoroth landed, his claws gouging the ground, his wings folded behind his back. He held his head high and looked at all of them as a commander would. He expected to be obeyed.
“Rise up, demons,” he said, speaking in Low Dimoori. Trystan only understood because Asagoroth had taught him a bit. “It is time to take what is ours. It is time to have the Upper Realm crumble as it should have long ago.”
Trystan looked at Asagoroth sharply. Asa.
Trust me.
Trystan swallowed hard.
“Long ago I knew of your desires for the angels. Long ago I ordered you to disregard such need, and to focus on domination, on war. Now I give different orders.”
All the demons watched him in awful silence.
“Take what is yours, my children.” Asagoroth’s voice boomed. “Take the angels, not in war, but in need, in lust. Show them how cold they are and how you are the only ones who can warm their flesh. Show them delicious chaos and unfettered pleasure. Show them what only you can. Claim the angel made for you, my demons, and make them yours!”
A scream was taken up by all the demons, loud and primal. Trystan cringed but knew this was as it should be. This was the Light Bringer’s plan. It had to be.
Asagoroth launched into the air and the adult demons followed, multitudes upon multitudes, with more joining as they saw their great, legendar
y commander lead the charge. The order was passed to the newcomers, and new voices joined the screams.
It would seem the demons had known part of the riddle all along. Trystan clung to Asagoroth’s horn as he flew straight up, allowing the demons to keep pace with him.
Are you sure about this? Trystan thought, second guessing the entire venture.
As sure as I am about you and me.
Trystan took a deep breath and nodded.
Hold on, Anna. Please, sister, hold on. We’re coming.
They burst through the clouds into the Upper Realm like an attacking horde, and that was exactly what the angels saw them as. Since the dome didn’t fall over the city, Trystan knew Annalise had kept her word.
“I’m going to look for Anna,” Trystan said.
“We will look for Anna,” Asagoroth said. He turned aside as the demons sped toward the angelic soldiers, who charged, thinking they were in a war. Trystan looked back to see the demons dodging the lethal strikes of the soldiers. As if knowing who they sought, each demon skipped several angels before zeroing in on a particular one. One such pair he saw, a female demon and a male angel soldier. He tried to strike her, but even Trystan saw the reluctance. The female demon sensed it and moved in, yanking the blade out of his hand before wrapping arms and legs around him, kissing him in a manner that had Trystan blushing. They fell from the sky, light and dark spiraling out of view. And they weren’t the only ones.
Angels and demons paired, falling from the skies, and not just soldiers. Other angels were fleeing for their lives but demons pursued, males and females choosing their mates and vanishing from view.
Trystan turned back to see Asagoroth was nearing the remnants of the high chancellor’s spire and the execution platform. He dreaded he might see blood staining the ruby but no such sight greeted him. He saw no one, in fact.
“Where is she?” he said aloud.
Many demons had followed them, searching for their own angels.
“Anna!” he shouted, even knowing he couldn’t be heard over the cacophony of sounds coming from all corners of Emphoria. He began seeing pairs and despite knowing it was rude to stare, he couldn’t help it. The enthusiasm of the angels was unmistakable as they surrendered to their demon matches. Certainly, some fought at first, but the demons would then speak to them, coax them. The desire was palpable in the air. Everywhere he looked, he could see pairs in different stages of coupling.
