Igtharia
Angel of Grace
Remain faithful children of Verdunmull
When all seems dire
Despair not
Believe
Trust
Have Faith
Grace will surround you at your darkest of times
◆◆◆
Everyone was ready for the mission and waited for their missing leader. Supplies were placed in the back of the healers’ wagon. Leith, the brother, was patiently waiting on the front bench. Kellen and Auvelia sat in the back of the wagon, along with Bayne. Kellen’s great sword lay across his lap, and Auvelia’s quiver was filled. The knights who accompanied Bayne sat on their horses. Treasach was leaning against the old wagon’s side, his arms crossed and his face exuding misery. Treasach did not understand why he had to go on the mission. He was a prince. Not a simple soldier. He was meant for more. Treasach wore magnificent armor, custom made. The royal family crest decorated his shoulders. A short sword was strapped to his waist, and a royal crested shield was latched to his back.
Gavina and Caedmon stood apart from the others. The two had conversed for a lengthy time, and the others could only guess what was being discussed. All the while, Aili was sifting through the fully stuffed packs in the wagon’s rear, making sure they had all the supplies required to heal the wounded in Mor. The beautiful, fair-haired healer wore a simple light-blue dress. The fabric was soft and free flowing in the wind. Anyone could tell she was not a fighter from her appearance. She wore no chain mail, no armor, no weapons or anything martial. Aili finished checking the supplies and noticed all the impatient faces surrounding her. Even Faolan’s parents grew restless.
Aili jumped off the wagon and shouted, “I am going to look for Faolan!” She ran off before anyone could object. She sprinted through the open castle gates and passed guards on patrol. Her steps were so light, at one point she startled a group of soldiers because they did not hear her approaching. She slowed as she passed under the marble arch entrance of the castle courtyard. She gracefully maneuvered through the maze of shrubs and took little notice of the statues’ identities. Aili turned a corner and spotted Faolan standing in front of a winged statue. The statue was much larger than the rest. Aili slowed as she approached Faolan. She attempted sneaking up on him in a playful manner but stopped and inquisitively tilted her head. Faolan was not moving. He stood unnaturally still, eerily so. Aili hesitated a short distance behind Faolan, and a thought of caution entered her mind: How long has he been standing there?
“Faolan?” she said.
He did not answer.
“Faolan—are you all right?” she said.
There was no answer.
“Faol—”
An invisible force struck her chest. Aili’s vision blurred, and her sense of sound distorted. Her body began to sway as she grew dizzier and dizzier. She touched her forehead with one hand and then fell to her hands and knees. Pain flowed into her mind, though she did not scream or cry out. The feeling was a distant sensation of someone else’s pain. With what strength she could muster, she lifted her head. What she saw was so frightening, her jaw dropped, and an audible gasp slipped from her quivering lips.
Faolan’s appearance had drastically changed. He had great white wings protruding from his shoulder blades. She estimated his wingspan to be no less than thirty feet, with a brilliant aura around them and illuminated with white light. Most of his clothing had disappeared. He wore only his pants, which were now white, and was tightly clutching the hilts of his fearsome swords as they hung in his hands. Scars, large and small, littered his back and arms. Some were claw marks in sets of threes or fives; others were cuts from metal. His hair was no longer short, now extending to the middle of his back. The black strands were interwoven with gray and white. He looked older and stronger, as if he had seen many wars.
And the wings of the statue in front of him were gone. They had been shattered, stone fragments lying around the statue’s base.
Faolan’s wings began to flap, once, twice, and as the wings flapped their third time, they curled around the unwinged statue in an odd sort of embrace. His head rotated to the left. He looked over his shoulder and peered back at Aili. Fear consumed her at his unkind gaze. The eye’s sclera was black, and the iris’s color was ever changing: from green, to orange, to white, to red, to yellow, to blue, and so on, the color changed erratically.
Aili shook uncontrollably as tears began streaming down her cheeks, “F-F-Faolan, what is wrong with you?”
Faolan’s intense gaze pierced into the depths of her soul. Her vision blurred. She could no longer take the sight and lowered her eyes.
“I do not understand. What is happening? It hurts!” The tears continued.
Fear overwhelmed her, and she prayed the vision would end. As she stared at the stones below her, she heard footsteps nearby. Someone was running toward her.
“Aili!” Faolan shouted. “Aili! Are you OK? Did you fall?” He knelt beside her.
Aili looked up at Faolan, who was normal again. The pain was gone, and the vision had ceased.
She wrapped her arms around him and tightly embraced him. “Why did you have wings?”
He was surprised by her tight hug and blushed at the sensation. He could feel her delicate body shaking.
“Aili, what happened?” he said.
“You had wings and frightening eyes. I felt a strange pain, which was not my own. It was intense and debilitating. I tried calling out to you, but you did not hear me. I do not understand what happened.” She tightened her embrace.
He did not understand either.
She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered, “I am scared.”
Faolan extended an arm under her knees and the other behind her back. He lifted her up into a cradle hold and began walking.
◆◆◆
Treasach shoved off the wagon with his back and stepped toward the castle, where he observed a peculiar sight. Faolan was walking out of the castle gates with Aili in his arms. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, and her head was laying on his chest.
“Well, look at that. You are a quick one,” Treasach said with a smile. “It did not take long for her to fancy you, did it?”
Faolan gave Treasach an annoyed glance.
“What?” Treasach said. “All I am saying is we have not even left yet, and look, she is already in your arms.”
Faolan passed by Treasach without further acknowledgment of his quick wit.
“What’s wrong with her?” Auvelia said.
“Aili!” Leith shouted from his driver’s bench. He leaped off the wagon and ran to Aili’s side. “What happened?”
“I do not know. I found her on the ground crying. I thought she might have tripped, but . . .” Faolan said. He was unsure if he should tell the others about her strange questions.
“But what?” Leith urged.
“Nothing. I am not sure what happened. From what I can see, she’s not physically hurt,” Faolan said.
“Well, then, why are you carrying her?” Treasach grinned.
“Because she was distraught. I could not just leave her there. She was a mess, crying and shaking,” Faolan said, unfazed by Treasach’s implications.
Caedmon and Gavina took notice of the commotion. They approached Faolan as he reached the wagon. Caedmon helped lift Aili up into the back of the wagon. Leith hopped up as well and questioned Aili.
“I will be fine. I am just a little shaken. There is nothing to worry about,” Aili assured Leith as she hugged her legs.
“Very well, then we should go. Mor is waiting,” Treasach said. He leaped onto the front bench, figuring they should not press the matter if she did not want to talk about it.
“Aye, we must depart,” Caedmon said.
Everyone except Caedmon piled onto the wagon. Leith and Treasach sat on the front bench. Leith snapped the reins, and the two horses began to pull the wagon down the main road of Lesley. Caedmon walked alongside the wagon b
ecause he was much too large to ride. As the small group neared the large inner wall of Lesley, something caught Faolan’s eye.
An old man sat on an aged barrel near the side of the road. The man looked to be human and as old as dirt itself. He sat cross-legged and held his ears as he rocked back and forth, though it was not his appearance striking an odd chord with Faolan; it was his gibberish.
“Beware the two . . . watch for one . . . wings of three, hide and run . . . they will come . . . brimstone and ashes . . . horns and claws . . . two, three, five, the opposite they shall arise.” Then the man froze.
He no longer mumbled. He no longer rocked. He stared daftly at Faolan for a brief moment and, as if a new terror had crossed his sight, he violently shook his head.
“N-n-no, no, no . . . crying above . . . laughter below . . . silence within . . .” the old man said.
The wagon passed the old man as his mumbling continued. Faolan was left wondering what the old man was talking about, but he shook off the old man’s insane ramblings and returned his mind to the mission at hand and Aili. The group passed through Lesley’s outer military ring and beyond the massive outer gate without further excitement.
Chapter 5
“The Divide”
“Three fallen, two by righteous decree. The third betrayed by his kin. A great war will rage in their hearts and minds as they struggle without the Divine One’s grace and light. Without the spirit they will understand great suffering.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 8:1–4
The sun was high in the sky, and the land transitioned from grassland to desert. Short, sparse brush dotted the landscape as an occasional lizard or desert owl fled away into their burrows as the strangers passed. Zauvek walked a steady pace, deep in thought. Waremasu was close behind as his stoic form bobbed with each step taken. The pair were partners in survival but divided in purpose.
Zauvek stared distantly at the dirt below him as he trudged forward, weighed down by his internal quarrels. Concern and anger swirled inside him as he thought about what needed to be done, what he wished he could do, and a slight fear of Waremasu.
He had betrayed not only Razbijen, but also Waremasu. His enshrouded partner was unaware of his trickery and lies. He had lusted for power over the world and was foolish to think he could accomplish such a task without the Divine One stepping in, but why the heavenly king did not divulge his devious plans and mistruths to Waremasu was outside his understanding.
The Divine One knew all, and he wondered why the righteous one would not have stopped him before it all began, though he knew he would never know. There was purpose to all the Divine One did, and always good was he.
Zauvek fumed inside but eyed Waremasu behind him and knew he must not stray. Waremasu was a delicate power to be feared, his instability a feather’s weight away from tipping the scale.
He wondered how he would handle Waremasu and the prevention of the corrupted seals, a task so tall that he wondered if their fragmented power would be enough for the tribulations ahead. First thing was first; they either had to find the key to the First Seal and keep it safe or find Razbijen and begin their arduous task of restoring his mind to its righteous form.
Zauvek glanced back at his companion again. “Waremasu, come closer.”
Waremasu moved beside the ailing angel.
“Do you suggest we attempt to find the key or Razbijen first?” Zauvek asked.
Waremasu stopped so he could write his answer on the air. Do we know what the key is?
Zauvek stopped and turned toward the orange glowing script. “Yes, my sword.”
Do we know where it is?
“No, lost it when we fell.”
Why your sword?
Zauvek hesitated as he carefully thought about the answer, glancing away. “Only a jailor’s sword can open the seal, a guardian of the gates. Only a heavenly one can close it.”
Your sword fell when you did?
“Yes, slipped from my hand as I was struck down by lightning.”
Without knowing its location, finding Razbijen would be best. He would be able to close it or defend it in his righteous form, Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek nodded. “Very well, but we will have to assess his mind and heart before opening him back up to the angelic power. His amnesia will allow the possibility of corruption without the light in his heart to protect him. He was pulled from the light with my sword’s banishing might, breaking the link between him and the light above. We must mend that connection if we are to survive and return Razbijen to the Divine One.”
You removed the light from his heart? Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek knew that such an act was unforgivable and glanced away from his companion. “Yes, the banishment removed light from the heart and memories from the mind.”
Waremasu remained stoic, but Zauvek knew underneath that veil of darkness and shroud of clothing, his companion was angered by his actions. He had tricked Waremasu into believing that Razbijen was the one attempting to open the corrupted seals in order to begin a new Corrupted Temperean Event, but in truth, it had been him. His companion was not wise to that hidden fact, and he hoped Waremasu would never find out, for the war between them would end with only one survivor.
“If we are to succeed and restore Razbijen to his former righteousness, then we must find him. It will be a delicate matter to restore the light to his heart without any darkness or corruption from this mortal world. Who knows what he has learned or been exposed to among these mortals?” Zauvek said with distaste.
We will have to walk the mortal lands and ascertain his location from them. Not knowing the lands of Verdunmull will cause trouble for us, but we should try to find civilization, Waremasu wrote.
“Yes, but he could be anywhere, and we do not have much time.”
Waremasu glanced across the horizon.
Zauvek eyed his companion’s form. “Why do you wear such unbefitting clothing? They are from the kingdom on the other side of the world, Zhecol. You will stick out among the mortals on this continent.”
Waremasu’s head swiveled back toward Zauvek, and the darkness between his high collar and cone hat peered down at him.
I wear it in shame, for failing the kingdom I was sent to protect. A darkness weaves through its lands, and now I cannot protect them in their darkest hours. The dark feeds on the Zhecol people, while I am unable to burn it with the light. I present my shame to all and bear it as a reminder that I failed, Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek knew it was that darkness in the lands of Zhecol that caused the divide in Waremasu’s soul and created his instability. He had been at war with the monstrosity of Zhecol for an age, and its darkness had slowly seeped into his companion’s soul, allowing him to trick Waremasu into his most recent plans of conquering Verdunmull.
I shall bear these garments until I destroy the beast of Zhecol and free its people from its malicious grasp, Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek now understood his plight and left it there.
“Where shall we head, continue east? I believe the human lands lay in that direction,” Zauvek said.
Waremasu nodded.
“Very well, then, let us continue.”
Zauvek carried on toward the east across the desert. His undulating one-two-three steps with his wooden crutch set their pace. His ailing heart caused them to stop occasionally as he gripped his burning chest and blood met his lips, though he brushed it off and gave his companion an excuse each time, hiding the truth. His ally followed close behind him as his stoic shadow, none the wiser.
The old angel wondered how they could possibly succeed, an ailing and an unstable. This would not be an easy journey, and their task set before them was challenging beyond compare. Their success would fully depend on Razbijen’s mental and physical condition; the angelic power could be corrupted and swayed into darkness should his condition be adversely affected by the mortals and the emotions of this world.
Their time was running short, and he hoped they could reach Razbi
jen before it was too late. A war unlike anything this world had seen before waited behind the First Seal, one this world could not bear without loss.
Chapter 6
“Restless Shadows”
“Each path comes with its own perils; cautiously tread in the times before the seals. The interlude of awakenings will be upon Verdunmull.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 3:2–3
The Mythios Woods was home to gigantic redwoods, which allowed little sunlight to penetrate to the forest floor were numerous ferns covered the moist landscape. Short stone pillars topped with blue fire lined the road on either side to light the way for travelers. The dancing blue flames cast a faint blue hue on the shaded understory. The redwood forest was welcoming and calming in its splendorous beauty and ambient noises.
A fog rolled in through the trees, thickening as they moved westward.
The wagon’s wheels creaked as they rolled down the quiet road. Faolan’s small group watched the shadows as they traveled west. Leith hunched forward at the reins and peered into the thickening fog before him.
Treasach folded his arms and yawned. “Your horses are slow,” he said in annoyance.
Leith glanced at him, “Only because they haul a heavy load.”
Treasach looked around as if he had mistaken something. “What? Seven people are a heavy load?”
“Aye, they are, and do not forget the supplies. That makes it harder on them too,” Leith said.
Treasach glanced at the wagon’s bed and verified the small sack pile. He slowly turned back around and lifted a scrutinous eyebrow at Leith, yet said nothing.
Leith caught his expression and gave an overly exaggerated frown. “Well, if you are so unhappy with our pace, then perhaps you should buy me more horses. You are a prince, are you not? Just throw a few coins in my direction whenever you can manage to raise your ego off that imaginary throne.”
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