Rituals

by Ryan Hastings

  Lightning flashed as his sisters helped remove his breastplate and pauldrons. Then the ground shook for just a moment when he removed his helmet. Azal’el was a good-looking fellow, wearing a plate and jeweled eyepatch over his right eye. The paragon smirked at Genri’s curious expression. “Something to remember Dom’rel by,” Azal’el said casually.

  Littlefeather shook the raggedy sack, then reached in to brandish a stunning bladed battlestaff. “It’s not your spear, but it’ll do the job,” he remarked. Azal’el smiled and tested his weapons handling, remarking, “This is certainly Uz’rel’s work.” Littlefeather nodded as he tossed some clothes to his brother. “He’s working on a mold for your new spear,” he remarked. “Now, change out; I have places to be.”

  Azal’el dressed into mercenary-like attire but didn’t bother to cover the glow of his left eye. “Strapping as always,” Swae commented. “I assume you’ve been briefed on your first objective?” she added. “Of course,” Azal’el replied confidently. “I have to say I’m somewhat excited. It’s been eons since I’ve done this.”

  Genri made sure he had the book Miri’el had given him. That was all he cared to take with him at this point. Swae held her hands out towards the troll with her palms facing outward. She slowly passed her hands over Genri’s person, morphing his Ephthali robes into plate-woven battle robes that had a certain primeval look about them.

  Genri inspected himself, clearly pleased with the garments the archangel had chosen. “Now you look like a thunder chief,” Swae remarked with a kind grin. Littlefeather was already walking away. “Godspeed y’all!” he hollered over his shoulder, just before vanishing in a bolt of lightning. Genri looked around at the angels. “All I can think to say is, thank you,” he said stoically.

  Miri’el gave the troll a hug and a kiss on his cheek. Sheth’rel did the same. “Your boy will do fine,” she assured. Genri nodded. “I know.” Miri’el whispered something in Azal’el’s ear, then disappeared in a flash of light. Swae provided a portal this time. The image of islands reflected through the beautiful anomaly. Azal’el secured some of his gear, then stepped through the shining portal. Genri halted at the face of the portal. He didn’t look back this time. He only stepped forward.

  The archangel took out her pipe and puffed as she began a moonlit walk back to the city.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Song and Stalwart

  Sophia gasped as she awoke in the suspension pool. It took a minute to realize how “different” she felt. She examined and felt of her body, noticing certain sensations she hadn’t in what was now the majority of her life. She laughed nervously and put her face in her hands, baring a rare smile.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but there were some comfortable garments set aside for her. Sophia, still coming to terms with the bodily healing she had received, exited the suspension pool and dressed into the clothes. Some of the minor scars and bodily aches were gone altogether, but others managed to remain. She passed a handful of terrani clerics on her way out of the conclave. Each acknowledged her with peace and prayer.

  A cleric approached her, handing her a small folded letter. Sophia was the sort that pressed forward, even among overwhelming uncertainty. She noticed the hints of sorrow in the eyes of those who blessed her. She knew that they knew of her. Sophia agreed with a simple nod of her head, prompting an escort to her kin. Joon was working with some alchemists and enchanters on various projects regarding past and future events when the door to the rather messy abode opened. Two terrani soldiers accompanied the half-breed but only because she still staggered a bit when she walked.

  Sophia was given a seat not far from the door and was given a rather bitter medicinal concoction to drink. Joon knelt before her half-sister.

  But, in this case, we’re just going to go with sister.

  Joon’s hands were over her nose and mouth, but her utterly joyful expression couldn’t be hidden. Joon embraced her as fiercely as she could. “I don’t know what to say about all of this,” Sophia muttered, retaining her ever-steady composure. Joon looked into Sophia’s cold eyes and asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Frankly, I feel disconnected and damned,” Sophia replied quietly. “Memories cannot be healed. I’m still a monster. A part of me still wishes for death.” Joon sighed with grief, knowing quite well what her sister had been through. “A new path has been opened to you, sister, a means of redirection and salvation. I don’t think even you can deny your value as an ally to whomever you saw fit.” Sophia nodded solemnly. “How can I even show myself around here?” she asked with a slight break in her voice.

  “We have to be in the here and now,” Joon replied with a gentle professionalism, “and right now, the Light has delivered you to us. A unique and magnificent purpose has been revealed to us, and I think that it’s been revealed to you in its own way,” she concluded. Sophia agreed, often keeping her eyes down. “How is your strength returning?” Joon inquired. “It’s mostly my balance that’s off right now,” Sophia replied. “My strength is my own.”

  Joon went to briefly speak with the terrani and then returned to Sophia. “I do know of something that may lift your spirits,” she said lovingly. A “gift.” Sophia nodded and slowly stood, still withdrawing from the touch of others. The two caught a transport to another sector of the Veil where the grand armory was located.

  Sophia seemed to turn every head they passed, but she paid little mind to it. She knew what they were thinking. The half-breed showed little expression but was more than impressed with the majestic yet natural terrani architecture. Sophia knew they’d reached their destination when she laid eyes on a beautiful set of armor.

  She looked at Joon in disbelief, seeing the detailing and glyphs of Eternity. “New armor for a new purpose,” Joon said softly. Sophia slowly caressed the smooth plate. A small measure of softness came to her demeanor. The regalia was brown, green, gold, and blue, detailed in gold, red, and white and set with fine gems and flowing spunsilk. “They used my body to fit it,” Joon remarked confidently. “It should fit like a glove.”

  “I heard you were wandering around,” Ezra called out, as if to a friend rushing over to the sisters. “Do you like it?” he inquired. “It’s gorgeous,” Sophia replied quietly. “I feel like a simple ‘thank you’ isn’t enough.” “Your health and presence here are token enough, lady,” Ezra replied politely. “You’ll find this armor is quite unique, in and of itself.”

  “So, are you gonna’ put it on, or just admire it?” Joon asked. “Right now?” Sophia asked curiously, but hesitantly. “There’s a room for you to dress in,” Ezra said, pointing just across the way. “Joon can help you if you need it. Sophia shook her head, replying, “I can manage.”

  She went to the private lounge, setting each piece of armor down and putting each piece on one by one. As she put on the first gauntlet, her hand began to tremor. She clenched her fist as hard as she could, overpowering whatever sensation it was. Sophia examined the beautiful gauntlet, seeming to feel a sort of peace as she rubbed her fingers together. Adjusting the breastplate a bit, she continued to put on the suit and looked at herself in the mirror.

  The half-breed smiled a little, seeing herself in a new light. She exited the room, drawing awes from the terrani present in the armory. Joon gave three claps at the sight. “Styled after our royal sentinels,” Ezra remarked. One of the craftsmen glanced over at Sophia, concluding that their work was faultless. “The suit has elemental aspects quite compatible with certain energy signatures,” he remarked with subtle pride.

  Sophia tied her hair back just as Ezra motioned to some of the workers. Two older terrani craftsmen hurried back with a sword and buckler that were uniquely forged to match this armor. Sophia took the weapons, flipping the blade around and testing the weight of the target.” “Better than any imperial counterpart I’ve held,” she remarked with gratitude.

  “Would you like t
o meet her?” Ezra asked. Sophia seemed taken aback by the notion. “The priestess?” she asked hesitantly. “So soon? I don’t even get why you people are giving me armor and weapons.” Joon gave a reassuring grin. “Who else? She’s actually dying to meet you.” Sophia could feel her core sink; but she agreed, marching down the path being laid before her as the brilliant soldier she was.

  Iris was quietly singing hymns from a codex, and anyone within earshot could tell you how pretty her voice was. Maymay was grooming the two Ser’ja with Max not far off when they saw a group approaching. Max gently nudged Maymay, motioning down the path. “Who is that?” Maymay gasped. “Your friend’s new protector and assistant,” Max replied casually.

  Iris glanced over her shoulder as she sensed the group approaching, quickly standing and brushing the grass from her robe. Joon gave a hinting cough and nudged her sister, nodding towards Iris. Sophia took a deep breath and walked over to the priestess. For a moment, the two just sort of looked at one another. Then Iris held out her hand and smiled.

  Sophia shook Iris’ hand but couldn’t find any words to say. Iris seemed to be short on words as well. Sophia knelt and bowed her head. “My life is yours, your grace,” she said humbly. “There’s no need for that, Sophia,” Iris replied kindly, sitting back down on the veranda. Sophia curiously joined her, unaccustomed to such a lack of formalities.

  Iris giggled. “Aren’t we a strange pair?” Sophia cracked a bit of a smile. “I can honestly say I haven’t been around someone like you before.” “Then, we’ll just have to acclimate you,” Maymay stated happily, joining the two on the grass. “Your armor is so pretty. Can I touch it?” Sophia raised an eyebrow at Maymay. “O… Okay,” she replied.

  Max joined up with Joon and Ezra. “I can sense how twisted the forces are within her,” he remarked, “combative, but some kind of balance.” “Which one?” Ezra commented. Joon took a couple subtle steps to the side towards Max. “The Light works in mysterious ways,” she replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mother of Dread

  One day, Fiaria had gone for a stroll, not even escorted by hunters. “Fiiiiiiiiiia!” Vil’el called out playfully. Bearing a tired and plain expression, Fia stopped dead in her tracks, turning to the fallen angel. “You’re late,” Vil’el stated. Fia wasn’t immediately sure what she meant; but after a moment, it set in. She held her stomach, becoming a bit pale.

  Vil’el phased through the darkness to Fia, placing her hands on the girl’s arms. “Your eagerness is much appreciated.” Fia looked away. Vil’el gently placed her thumb beneath Fia’s chin and turned her head to face her. “At least now you have a better idea as to how much longer you have to endure being our guests,” she said casually.

  Fia began to tremble and fought back tears. “We’ve betrayed everyone,” she uttered. “No, No, sweetie,” Vil’el assured. “You aren’t always dealt a good hand in life; and right now, this is the only hand you have to play. Would suicide have been any safer, any better?” Fia glanced at Vil’el’s concubines that now resembled succubus’s more than humans. They returned her glance with sexual expressions and motions.

  Fia quickly looked away and then back at the fallen angel. “Why did you do what you did so long ago?” she asked sadly. Vil’el actually appeared unprepared for such a question. One could notice a brief shift in her overall composure, but she played it off as well as she always does. “What is existence? Without two counterparts, there’s just one big boring amalgamation, right?” she replied casually.

  “You killed your kind,” Fia continued. “Angels! What could you have felt to make you do such a thing?” Vil’el grinned and embraced Fia tightly. “I felt free, child,” she replied with an ever so slight tremble in her voice. “Dom’rel offered us a choice for the first time in our existence, and I couldn’t let anyone stand between me and my choice.”

  Vil’el pointed to Sahja, who was practicing in his newfound strength and powers with the heavy blade forged and gifted to him in the dark scar. “The darkness here that is coursing through that boy is palpable enough that I could snap my fingers and make him my personal killing machine,” she explained. “But, it is also unconsciously stabilizing his abilities. I think the melancholy is absolutely beautiful, just like you.”

  Despite her lavished and warm robes, Fia held herself while feeling a chill run through her body. Vil’el sat down and patted the crumbled pillar next to her, and Fia sat beside her. “I haven’t had this sort of interaction with a human in eons,” the fallen angel sighed. “It’s actually a little refreshing.” Because of the utter abyss of life Fia was experiencing, she truly felt like she was betraying the Light she had received. There was something that seemed to grasp her heart tightly--and she to It.

  Fia mustered up the voice to ask, “Who was the woman in red?” Vil’el scoffed, “Sheth’rel, the third-born.” Fiara maintained a proper yet meek posture, seeing a mix of emotion in the fallen angel’s face that was quickly overtaken by hate. Vil’el conjured some manner of cigar and lit it with necrotic fire. “You think family drama is bad between mortals?” she chuckled. “You should’ve seen our last family get together.”

  The two looked out upon the annihilated remains, now serving as a staging area for a demonic army. The sky was a constant swirl of black and green clouds with an occasional boom of thunder and strike of lightning. The ambiance was surprisingly quiet at times with the distant howls of undead and banshees breaking it every once in a while. At least Fia was kept away from the horrible things being done to survivors brought there.

  “The creation of humanity weaponized love,” Fia uttered. Vil’el looked at her with subtle surprise. “Damn, you really are a sexy thing,” she replied. “You could’ve been a nephalem with that sort of insight.” Fia looked at the fallen angel curiously. Vil’el returned the gaze with a sly expression, then nodded at Sahja. “You certainly have some wit, but how much do you know about bloodlions?” she asked.

  Fiaria looked out towards her man but didn’t say a word. Vil’el scooted up against Fia. “There is a ritual that bloodlions undergo that provides them with longevity of mortal life. That’s how that old man is still banging a terrani,” she explained. “The ritual will come naturally once he’s reached a certain point. He’ll perform it on his own.” Fiaria knew what the fallen angel was saying. Immediately she felt sick to think she’d go through what faced her, just to die centuries before her love would. Vil’el didn’t follow up with anything. She simply watched her guest. Tears came to Fia’s eyes as she asked. “How can I? What do I have to do?”

  Vil’el kissed her own thumb and then made one downward rub on the left side of Fia’s neck, causing a detailed runic tattoo to appear. There was no sensation, no pain. “Consider it a gift,” Vil’el said softly. “I followed my love from Eternity and will follow him anywhere. Now you can follow yours to the ends of Harth.” Fia looked at the fallen angel with perplexed and misty eyes. “Th… thank you,” she said. Vil’el sighed with contentment. “You can handle suffering, kid. Remember that; you’ll need to.” Acclimated to the foul air, Fia nodded and took a deep and steady breath. She then folded her hands and closed her eyes, squeezing out some tears. “Our friends in Ephthali---”

  “Are not currently our concern,” Vil’el interjected. Fia looked at the fallen angel with sort of a surprise. Vil’el smiled and chuckled. “Now you’ve seen what else is out there. And with Sheth’rel overseeing its establishment, that bitch is certainly a barrier to our progress. It would be an utter waste of resources. No. I’m more concerned with all the weeds in my garden,” she explained, leaning back on a tarnished statue.

  Fia found herself becoming fascinated by this massive war that was being woven on Harth. She was almost overwhelmed by the weight of the currencies being exchanged and by the fact that she seemed so friendly with a fallen angel. Vil’el conjured a stuffed blackwolf that looked like any from a toy shop and handed it
to Fia for her to hold. Fia took the stuffed animal and held it as tightly as a child would.

  “The two of you will become a part of history,” Vil’el remarked, heading towards her harem. Then the fallen angel laughed out loud, saying, “How did it feel? Making love on our behalf?” she concluded mockingly. The pieces of armor Vil’el was wearing disintegrated with her steps.

  CHAPTER 24

  Boom Goes the Dynamite

  Skirmishes were happening closer and closer to Ephthali’s protected perimeter. There were next to no allied casualties, but even two or three were too much to pay day-to-day. Swae was sitting on the seawall with Dan’el by her side. “Even if Vil’el decides not to make a move, Dom’rel has his own tendrils everywhere,” Dan’el remarked. “You know the sort of darkness the chaos of battle brings, and he’ll take us for all we’re worth in the midst of it.”

  Swae puffed her pipe, glancing out to the sea. Dan’el sighed, then spoke uncharacteristically stern. “Ephthali needs its consecration, ma’am.” Swae slowly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the sea air. She took off her rose-tinted shades and wiped them off, sniffling once. “How did we get to this?” she asked mournfully, “that the destruction and desecration of life became so normal--that children don’t even have time to be children?”

  Dan’el couldn’t feel what she felt; he just stayed, leaning against the seawall. “I think the answer’s pretty simple,” he replied. “Dom’rel.” Swae clenched her fists so that her knuckles cracked. “Damn that man!” she shouted with passion. “DAMN HIM!” The seas momentarily became rougher, and the rocks beneath her fists fractured.