by D. Fischer
Silently, we survey the dead and account for any recognition among the angels strewn across the marble.
“Find Tember,” Kat quietly barks, smoke curling from her nostrils while she bends to an angel at her feet. She grips the right wrist, checking the pulse after we had waded through half the bodies. I hear the quiver in her voice, knowing it to grieve for the fallen despite the fact they were trying to kill her minutes before.
Even amongst the dead, her compassion continues to amaze me. Her personality echoes my own, complements it. Strengthens it. Inside me, my wolf grumbles in agreement, and it vibrates my ribcage. Hearing the pounding of my heart, Kat lifts her eyes to mine as she gently places the wrist across the stomach of the angel. Above the orange glow of her dragon’s regard, a single eyebrow raises on her forehead, a voiceless question to my contented grumble.
The other elves take off and disappear, dividing themselves among the hallways. Evo, Kenna, Bre, and Flint’s wolves begin scenting the bodies in the large room, sneezing, recoiling, or gagging as they go. Some bodies smoke like they were cooked from the inside out, and others have arrows poking from their bodies and wrists, a visible testament to their deaths.
“I never wanted this,” Katriane admits, standing on shaky knees. “Any of this.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her gently.
“These,” she begins, sweeping her arm across the room, “are all angels who have fallen from grace. Grace, Dyson. They were once good: they were once protectors. Who will protect their charges now?” Hanging her head, she mumbles her next words. “The choices I’ve made could be their end or ours. I started all of this.”
I don’t think she meant for me to hear the last part, but with my shifter hearing, it was hard to miss. She swallows thickly, consumed in her own sort of fire. Instead of addressing her last statement, meant for the privacy of her own thoughts, I address the first issue.
“I don’t know,” I answer, scratching the back of my neck. “I suppose I can ask Evo if he and all the shifters of the Earth Realm will temporarily take their place until Tember can make new ones.”
“Tember?” she asks, whipping her head toward mine.
I nod. “She’s the one with all the guardian power now. Erma . . . She’s dead, Kat.”
The breath leaves her lungs in a rush like she’s been punched in the gut, and her eyes shut tightly, wrinkling the skin around the lids and the bridge of her nose. She wraps her arms around her middle. “Erline knows?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “She’s already informed the village.”
Rocking slightly, a soothing comfort, she’s quiet while tightly hugging herself. I let her have the moment to fully absorb the loss before snaking my arm around her waist and pulling her close. With her heat against mine, I greedily drink in her scent at the top of her head.
“I’ve fallen from grace, too,” she mumbles, her voice vibrating my sternum. “I could have easily been struck down for the wrong I’ve done.”
I chuckle in hopes of easing her tension. “I doubt that.”
“I’ve killed, Dyson,” she says with more heat in her voice. “I’m a murderer.”
She pulls away, and I search her face. My jaw ticks, and my wolf growls. I won’t have her taking all of this blame and placing it on her own shoulders. “You’ve killed to survive, Kat. There’s a difference.”
A single brow quirks again, and I trace it with the pad of my thumb, softening my expression.
“Is there?” she asks quietly, fluttering her lashes at my touch.
I open my mouth to answer, to tell her that if she didn’t step in, I’d be dead – that if she didn’t begin this, didn’t make the choice to be in the middle of this, more might be dead. This war was inevitable, interferences and their consequences be damned. But, before I can voice it, someone’s call from inside the castle carries down one of the many halls connecting to the chamber of death, echoing and pulling us from our conversation.
Expression brightening, she pulls from my arms and takes off at a run, hopping over bodies in her haste like they’re nothing except the logs I jumped over in the winter forest to get to her. Dutifully, I follow, the pack quick on my heels. She must have recognized the male voice, known it would be connected to the woman we search for.
Barefooted and in the rush for finding Tember, she slips, bending into a hallway - following the voice like a lifeline - and we skid in after her. From there, we barrel through the long stretching corridor arched with beautiful designs.
Ahead, battered, bruised, and broken angels exit a room, guided by an elf. Tears streak the angels’ faces, and the elf watches on, murmuring gentle words to soothe them. We slow ourselves as we approach. The clogging atmosphere of dread wafts in waves.
“Tember?” Kat asks desperately. Wildly searching, she takes in the group of angels, and disappointment droops her shoulders. Tember isn’t among them.
The elf flicks his head to the doorway, and stiffly, assuming the worst, we maneuver our way inside. But then we stop in the wide doorframe, and a curse crosses my lips before my hand flies to cover it.
On the floor, Erma’s body lays completely lifeless as Jaemes hovers over her. But despite this heart-shattering scene I was somehow mentally prepared for, that’s not what has my attention. Jaemes’ head is tilted up to where the wall meets open air, not in grief but in observation, wildly searching.
I follow his line of sight and suck in a quick breath at the view, staggering back a step.
Glowing, Tember hovers in the air, arms outstretched toward the ceilingless sky. Dark gray clouds rumble and roll, Tember the sun. Her black wings are dropped, and every muscle in her body is slack while the tips of her fingers sizzle with electricity. Everything she was made of, everything she could do with the bolts of arrows, is seeping from them, overtaken by the glowing magic consuming her. The air tastes . . . sweet. Impossibly fresh, and even with my shifter-heightened senses, I can’t place the smell that lingers past the iron, metallic scent of death.
Divided between her friend and Erline’s sister fee, shallowly breathing, Katriane chooses the fee lying lifeless in Jaemes’ arms to tend to first. There’s nothing she can do about Tember’s situation, whatever that is. Whatever has her up in the air like that, changing her very essence, is more powerful than we can comprehend.
“What happened?” Kat asks, her hands hovering over Erma, unsure of where to start fixing this. There is no fixing this. Death can’t be reversed, not to this magnitude.
In my peripheral vision, I’m snagged by color starkly different than the black marble. Piled atop one another are discarded wings, and as my brain works to catch up with my vision, a gag rolls in my stomach. Someone cut the wings off those angels. Who would do such a thing? Not far from it is an angel, dead and slumped against the wall. By the dried blood seeping from his eyes, mouth, and nostrils, I gather he was the person to blame for all of this, and I clench my hands at my sides. Hatred fills my heart despite my earlier thoughts on the matter.
“This was all planned,” Jaemes says. His voice is uncharacteristically emotional, as though he’s holding back tears, and they’re choking him with his restraint. “It was a trap. The entire battle was for this moment alone.”
Kat sweeps her attention to Jaemes and stares at him in disbelief. “To kill a fee?”
“Yes,” he hisses, his back muscles visibly stiffening. Carefully, he reaches forward and tenderly brushes the red hair away from his friend’s slack face.
“And Tember?” Kat asks. “Is she dead?”
I glance back to Tember, still floating in the air. Her fingers aren’t crackling anymore, and she looks unconscious, sleeping perhaps, and without pain. She’s the new creator of this realm, Erline said, so I know she’s still alive. What’s happening to her, however, I don’t fully understand.
“No,” Jaemes utters, hushed. “She’s receiving the power from The Divine.”
Slowly, as if on cue, her body lowers until she’s laid lightly against
the floor, her wings flattened under her back. Stumbling to her feet, Kat rushes to her, leaving Jaemes with Erma. I follow but a bit more reluctant. The entire situation is surreal, the emotions so thick in the air it makes my limbs sluggish and my breaths heavy.
Tilting his head back, Jaemes screams to the clouds, vibrating the atmosphere. His tone is full of sorrow, heated but grave. I wince at the sound, but I know what it feels like to lose another. To watch them die and be unprepared for the crashing wave of emotions that follow after the shock of it all. I fear this won’t be the last friend he grieves, either. So many died today, and many will die in the future.
The only way to ease the ache is by letting it out. I leave him to it, knowing no amount of consolation will comfort him at this very moment – the moment his heart cries its goodbye. I watch, nonetheless. Sobs wrack his body when he’s finished, and he bends over Erma once more as though he believes if he covers her with his grief, her soul will be contained. But she’s no longer here, and eventually, his brain will register that.
On her knees next to Tember, Kat taps her rosy cheek. “Tember,” she calls quietly, hardening her taps to light slaps. White paint is dried along her skin, marred with black, but as Kat thumps against her skin, little chips of it crumble to the marble. “Tember!”
Lethargically, Tember’s eyes flutter open, heavy with exhaustion. I turn my back to the grieving elf and stride to hover over the two women. An urge to protect them amongst today’s events powers me forward.
Inspecting Tember, I feel my nostrils flare when I take in her new change. Her eyes are pitch black, identical to each of the other fee, and her scent has changed, quite similar to the scent of Fate. Power radiates from her, and her skin, painted in crusted white, seemingly glows against the black marble.
Kat’s shoulders visibly relax. “Thank The Divine,” Kat mumbles, her voice cracking with relief. “For a moment, I thought –” But she doesn’t finish the sentence and, instead, swallows it down and blinks back tears. My heart aches, watching her knit back together her own fears.
“They’ll pay for this, Tember,” Kat promises, her face muscles hardening as her thin black eyebrows dip and bunch together. And I believe her. The conviction and strength in her voice is true.
Tember tries to sit up, confused and dazed.
“No,” I begin, bending to her and placing my hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her from standing. “Take a moment to adjust. Do you know where you are?”
Her expression is pinched as her memories crash together, one after another. Once her face softens, she slowly swivels her head to peer, eyes glazed, at Jaemes’s back. “I do,” she says, void of emotion.
Kat looks to me, concerned, but directs her question to Tember. “Are you okay?”
Tember turns back to Kat, staring, perhaps seeing her differently than she did before. “If you are okay,” she declares, lifting a hand to Kat’s arm and gripping the fur draped there, “then I am okay.”
I visibly relax, a whoosh of breath leaving my lungs. Some of Tember’s original personality is behind her words despite her obvious confusion. Fee are cruel even when they love. I was worried Tember would be this way too, but as her posture softens toward her once charge, it eases my worry.
Tember will make a great leader to this realm. Even in the events of all this decimation, she has an abundance of courage, bravery, empathy, and now . . . power. I just hope she uses it wisely.
“Do you think you can stand?” Kat asks, dipping her voice so only we can hear.
Tember nods, her hair falling in front of her face in a curtain of brown curls. With little effort, she gathers herself to her feet. She isn’t shaky like I thought she’d be. Her muscles are strong, and an extra grace is added to her center of gravity.
“Jaemes,” she calls mildly once she’s fully upright, straightening her clothes.
Jaemes’ shoulders stiffen, but he looks over his shoulder anyway. His expression is hard, wild, full of a pain I can’t imagine, and the muscles ripple along his spine.
“Would you carry Erma back with us?” she asks.
With a thick swallow, he nods so slightly I almost don’t catch it.
Dread fills the pit of my stomach. Jaemes will be grieving all over again once we get back to his village. I debate speaking with him about his father’s death on the trek back, chewing on the inside of my lip as I do so, but the choice is taken from me.
Tember erects a portal identical to the one Erma could make. Soon after, we’re filed in, popping to the village Jaemes now governs.
CHAPTER FOUR
AIDEN VANDER
GUARDIAN REALM
Eliza and I exit the teepee when murmurs hush the wave of sobs. We stand between the wall of flapping skin and the outside fire pit nestled amidst snow that’s packed with footprints. We survey the village and spot the beginnings of a yellow glow down the way. It hovers above the snow along a well-beaten path, egg-shaped and large enough for several someones to fit through.
The voices whisper in my head, calm yet buzzing, and I blink hard to push them aside. I know what they are – the many voices of the void. I remember it well from when I was there.
Elves back away from what clearly is a portal while the three dwarves and the Sandman rush to it, pushing through the crowd. The others haven’t seen me yet, their attention solely on today’s events. My unease is palpable, however, and Eliza snakes a hand around my waist in a show of support, tucking her head against my chest.
Tember marches through first. Her face, smeared in dry and cracking white paint, masks her pain well. It’s still grim though. Hard. Like she’s seen too much, done too much. I feel her agony, the thickest emotion a demon can drink. I taste it as the wind brings fumes my direction, sweet and delicious.
A pack of wolves in a mix of furry earth-tone colors follows, then the green glow of the prenumbras join the wolves as distant kin. Once the wolves dip into their appointed teepee, the prenumbras yip and bark then trot off to the forest, disappearing as they weave in and out of tree trunks, their hues flickering until the shadows and darkness swallow them.
Dyson, Kat, Jaemes, and other elves quickly follow. Blood stains their torn clothes, and their expressions match Tember’s. Jaemes holds Erma in his arms, her head lulled back and her body completely limp. Dead. She’s dead. An unexpected wave of dread overcomes me, slamming in my chest and effectively halting my feed of Tember’s misery. She’s pained because the woman she loved is gone. Only the cruel would feed from someone afflicted like that, and I instantly feel guilty for doing so.
Eliza squeezes me knowingly.
Kat wears only a white fur blanket. It’s wrapped tightly around her shoulders, exposing her bare thighs. Dyson guides her away from the portal, and, together with the elves, they turn back to the portal and straighten their spines in a sign of respect. One by one, battered and beaten angels stagger through, their limbs wobbling as their feet meet firm, cold ground. Each one is absent their wings. Eliza’s arm drops from my waist at the sight of them. She shuffles forward, one tentative step at a time, then rushes to the wounded guardians. The cold envelops me in her absence.
A female angel collapses, and an elf grabs her under the arms before her body meets the snow. He quickly hoists her up and nestles her head against his chest. The elf says nothing as he, Jaemes, and a few other elves walk down the path. Jaemes never looks down at Erma as he enters the largest teepee, quickly followed by his warrior elf companions ushering broken angels.
Eliza dives in with him, rushing to aid. I expect nothing less from her. She was born to love, this trait complemented by her hands and knowledge. It makes my heart swell with pride that she can set aside her problems to relieve another’s.
The village watches instead of speaking. And then, their stupor snaps. Tears spill down their faces as women turn to the chests of men and new widows seek comfort from their children.
Erline’s head is hung as she stands in the sea of villagers. Her white hair hides
her expression, but her shoulders twitch as she sobs on her own.
The discomfort becomes too much for me to handle, too much for me not to feed from, and I lumber to the wounded’s teepee in hopes of some sort of relief from it. Murmurs follow in my wake, hushed shock as they see me for what I truly am now, but I ignore them.
Just before I reach it, my name is called.
“Aiden?” Dyson asks, his tone wary with disbelief.
I stop and feel my shoulders stiffen. Leave it to the wolf to recognize my underlying scent even if my appearance has drastically changed.
Before he approaches, he murmurs to Katriane about finding warm clothes. Shortly after, he trots up to me, his elf-made shoes squeaking against the snow. When I don’t turn to face him, he steps in front of me. His eyebrows are raised as he sweeps my current appearance like I’m a new car on display in a showroom.
“What happened?” he asks.
“A spy is never without scars,” I rumble, my voice tinged with anger. A part of me blames him for this and it shocks me.
He clears his throat and rubs the back of his arm. “They did this to you?”
I breathe a chuckle through my nose. “Nobody did this to me, Dyson. I only had . . . help getting there. This is my true form.” He says nothing in response but instead holds my gaze fearlessly, at a loss for words. I mistake the silence for something else. “Am I truly an ally now? In this form? Now that you know what I really am?”
“Of course, you are,” he whispers, offended. “But can you change back?”
I slowly shake my head. “I’ve tried.”
With a huff, he rakes his hand through his thick dark hair. “Did you learn anything while you were there?”
“Yes.” My answer is simple, yet the word feels drawn out just like the current events. I may have only just left here to spy, but it seems a lifetime ago. So much has happened between then and now. My brain is running on autopilot, absorbing the knowledge but barely retaining it.
