...but there had been one had been willing to betray the secret.
Through his informant, he learned where the Sanctum of Guardians was hidden, and he infiltrated it easily with the secrets he was told. The Council could not have known, would be blindsided when they learned of the betrayal, and Azrael smiled as he imagined their inevitable horror when they found what was left of their precious Guardians. His smile grew even deeper when he imagined their faces when they learned who had betrayed their secret.
Leviathan’s curse of hastening the vessel awakenings would not be enough to open the gateway between Heaven and Earth. He needed the Disc the Guardians had protected. The Disc of Shamash. Leviathan would not hand over the means of obtaining the Disc without the sword Azrael carried, the sword forged by the hand of the most powerful being of all: his father.
Azrael scowled. Although he needed the Disc, the sword was the only weapon in existence that could cut through the seraphim. If ever they were to return, Azrael would be powerless to stop them. He needed the sword as much as he needed the Disc, so he bade his time.
Azrael set about his task with industrious purpose as the centuries passed. His city had grown in this time and to look upon it from a distance alone would elicit extraordinary terror in mortals. The path to the city was fraught with obstacles and creatures of darkness so terrible that Azrael had required the use of ancient magic to contain them. If one somehow escaped them, they would still have to find the means to traverse the rivers of magma and fire that surround Solomenta. The city itself was built of volcanic stone and granite, and peaks of enormous towers rose blackly into the darkness. The drawbridge was built upon the bones of the men he’d helped to kill, and he delighted every time in his return to be greeted by the evidence of his sadism. Skulls lined the road to the entrance, and the walls were lined by the all-seeing eyes of what remained of the armoros who had joined him after the Fall. They stood in a defensive line on the ramparts, spears of steel always at the ready. The armaros – or the grigori – were a fearsome lot, but very few in numbers. Still, their presence alone deterred any ambition of conquer by the Council.
The city existed now for one purpose — to harbor a legion. There were no comforts to be had, here. The barracks spanned as far as the eye could see, and every road led to the centre keep, where Azrael kept court upon his throne of human bones.
Azrael turned his head, and one who stood at his right side, his Commander, immediately leaned in to hear his orders.
“Lord?” it asked expectantly. It had a name once, in its human life. This creature particularly interested him. It was cruel as a human and strong. Feared. Azrael fed on that blackness and had great use for it in the days to come. He trained him personally and gave him a new name to solidify his separation from the world of man. He called him Ephreim.
“See that it is done,” Azrael growled.
“My Lord,” Ephreim said and leapt into the darkness with two others of the Guard, the sound of their wings as they cut through the wind becoming softer as the distance between them grew.
Azrael sighed. He needed to find his brother. This army would grow, and it would grow strong. But without the Disc nothing was certain. His brother would know what to do.
He just had to find him. No easy feat. He’d been searching since the dawn of time, since the fall of the Council. Regardless, he knew with the coming of the army the power would grow within him, too. It would guide him. He would find his brother, and together they would find the Disc and destroy the world.
His brother.
. . .Lucifer.
I woke up on the floor, aware immediately of the painful pulsation in my back. It all came to me again instantaneously, and I felt behind me. Sure enough, the mounds of bone and feather were still there. I groaned loudly but stifled it quickly as I remembered Sam was in the next room. The last thing I needed was for him to come in here.
Just as I feared though, Sam had heard me. I could hear the crunching sound of his feet as he walked over garbage, empty bottles clinking as they were disturbed by his exit.
I quickly pulled my shirt down and thought in my panic to find a sweater. A hoodie. That may do. I grabbed a dirty one off the floor and felt some relief as the hood provided some coverage of the bulging things in my shoulder blades. I gave no thought to the fact it was late in the spring, and it was already hot enough in the house to cook an egg. I thought up excuses to quickly get Sam to leave.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Larin?” Sam asked, opening it at the same time.
“Don’t you wait to get permission?” I snapped, hurriedly trying to figure out what to do.
Sam ignored me and walked into the room, sitting down carefully on the bed. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, the drunkenness from earlier apparently worn off. He was sober.
I was about to rush him out, but something was strange in this encounter. Sam was rubbing his hands nervously together and I could see his discomfort in his bowed head. He sighed, loudly, and looked up at me.
“I never said this to you before, Lar,” he started, and I looked at him curiously, despite my fear and agitation. “I wanted to tell you. . .that I’m sorry. For everything.”
Sam suddenly buried his head in his hands and wept. I stood there looking at him in shock, not knowing what to do. I’d never seen my brother break down this way. I’d never seen him vulnerable.
“Sam. . .” I walked forward, stopping short before him and wrapping my arms around myself nervously. We never touched in this family. There were no hugs. No affection. But I suddenly felt a strange sense of protectiveness - an unpleasant sensation of pain for his pain. I didn’t know what to do and wondered if I should touch him. I decided on awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder, and I felt a tremor run through him simultaneously.
“Sam, what is this?” I asked softly.
Sam looked up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The throbbing in my back had picked up, but I was torn between my fear and my need to see this out with my brother – knowing, all the same, I had to figure out what this was. Quickly.
“I should have been better. I should have protected you. Maybe I couldn’t, before. . .when we were young. But there were so many times that I could have. And I didn’t. I don’t want to be Dad,” Sam said, looking up into my face. “I don’t want to be him. I want to be better.”
“Then be better,” I said simply.
We stared at each other a moment longer and Sam got up.
“I just needed to get it out,” he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his dirty jeans. I thought he would leave, but he suddenly spoke again. “I want to take us out of this place, Larin.”
I gaped at him in surprise. Under normal circumstances, I would have jumped at his words. It meant an escape from my father. But I couldn’t make sense of why this was happening now, and a wave of anxious confusion washed over me as I struggled to understand.
“Sam, I’m serious. What’s bringing this on now?” I asked perplexed. I resisted the urge to reach behind me and scratch my back, the sensation nearly overwhelming me. “Our entire lives, you had your chance to step up, to do something. But you didn’t. I want to know why now.”
All the thoughts, memories, and terrors of my existence suddenly bubbled to the surface. Sam’s sudden proclamation of protection and love had opened the doors to every hurt and humiliation I’d ever experienced in this hell. In fact, I didn’t realize before that moment just how very angry I was at Sam. Furious. He could have protected me all those times, but he didn’t.
“WHY NOW?!” I shouted at him, the tears bubbling to the surface and running down my cheeks. Sam looked at me in shock, completely unprepared for such a reaction.
“Because I realized I needed to do better by you, Lar! Because I realized what a horrible, shit brother I am! Because. . .” he trailed off, and I saw the tears running down his face despite the darkness in the room. The lamppost on the roadway cast some of its rays int
o my room, and the shadows they created in their wake danced off his face as he spoke. As he cried.
“I was in the store. I wanted to buy a sixer,” Sam began, “and a woman came in with her daughter. She couldn’t have been more than five. But the woman was drunk and trying to buy more beer. When the clerk said he couldn’t serve her, the woman started grabbing things off the shelves and throwing them in his face.” Sam stopped talking and choked up. He let out a sob at the memory, and I immediately felt the pain the child would have endured. Probably was enduing at this very moment. I remembered my childhood, being dragged into bars with Dad only to get kicked out for having brought a child in with him. He would rage around, screaming curses at anyone who interfered with his quest to get alcohol. I remember cowering and being dragged away. The fear and humiliation in those moments, the looks of mixed pity and disgust from strangers as they watched the pathetic display. I knew Sam had similar memories. He was there for many of mine, both of us standing in front of a father who had descended completely into his own internal hell. Both of us forced to be a part of it.
Sam interrupted my unhappy reminiscing. “She was kicked out the store, and she didn’t even care that her daughter was standing there, left behind. Just staring after her. The woman was screaming at the clerks, calling them names. But she never once looked at her daughter.” He had stopped crying and was frowning angrily. He was shaking and trying desperately to regain control. He hit himself in the chest, marshalling his strength.
I didn’t grow up knowing how to love until I met Kaila and Gee. Through them, I learned compassion. They taught me what it was to have family, and I looked at Sam suddenly, a feeling of overwhelming sadness overtaking me. Regret.
Sam sat back down on the bed roughly, breathing heavily and trying to regain control. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to go to him, and I rushed forward and fell to his knees, hugging them and surprising us both. Sam awkwardly put a hand on my shoulder. He patted it, not knowing what to do.
“I want to make this right, Larin,” he said. “I want to try to make this right and get us. . .get you out of here. I am going out first thing to find a job, try to find a place. You’re old enough now that you can choose what to do. Dad can’t stop us. I won’t let him.” He looked at me determinedly, and I found I believed him.
I was so overcome with emotion, I completely forgot the pain in my back, the sickness, and I reached up and took him in my arms. We both cried together. I was angry with him still. So angry. But I wanted to heal. I knew he did too, and this was his way. It was late, but it suddenly meant so much to me that I had no words to describe the emotions within me.
Sam reached his arms around me, pulling me into a tighter hug.
He froze.
“Lar...” he said, his voice thick with the emotion of moments before. “Lar, what is. . ..what’s on your back?” He put a hand on one of the bulges, and the act of doing so elicited immediate nausea so profound I fell backwards on the ground, rolling over onto my hands and knees and retching violently.
“Larin!” Sam cried, getting up.
“Sam! No!” I said between heaves. “Don’t touch me!”
I got up, feeling suddenly as though I was in a cage. I needed to be in open space. I lurched forward towards the door, yanking it open. I could feel Sam’s presence behind me, and something inside me told me he could not follow me.
“Stay back!” I shouted, looking back over my shoulders as I bolted for the front door.
“Sam, I mean it! Stay back!”
Sam stayed close behind but made no effort to physically stop me. Something strange inside me told me he couldn’t if he tried. Something life-altering was happening to me, and I had to get out and away.
“Larin stop!” I heard Sam yell from behind me, and I ignored him, running out the front door into the yard. I looked towards a hole in the fence that was large enough for me to slip through but too small for Sam, and I made a break for it. He realized what I was doing and suddenly knew he had to act if he wanted to stop me, and he caught up with me, grabbing me off my feet.
I turned around suddenly in his arms with a strength I did not formally have and shoved him to the ground. He landed roughly and turned to stare up at me in abject shock.
“Sam, for the love of everything, I beg you – STOP,” I said with finality. Sam could only stare in response, though his body involuntarily began movements towards getting up. I turned and ran towards the fence, leaping through it and ripping off the hoodie as sweat threatened to drown me. I was saturated, but the true discomfort I felt was in my back. A raw, churning, breathing thing inside me. I felt as though I was being consumed by fire.
I cried out as I ran and made my way over the ancient barbed wire surrounding the landfill that did little to keep out animals and vagrants. I ignored it as it raked over my legs, ripping my pants and sinking into flesh. I could hear Sam in the background, yelling through the fence for me to stop.
I ran as fast as I could until I could no longer hear his voice. I came to a spot with a clearing and stopped.
I screamed.
I felt as though I was being ripped in half. The mounds in my back exploded, and in my mind, so did the world. I fell to the ground.
The pain had been unbearable moments before, but suddenly, it was gone. Completely.
I lay on the ground, gasping until I became aware of two very heavy weights upon my back. I felt ...an odd sensation. . .
As though. . .
But it was impossible...
The thing behind me flapped in response to my thought. I felt the feeling of flesh, of muscle and tissue where it had never been before. It was as though I had two new arms. I could feel them behind me, receiving signals from my mind and sending them back. Waiting for orders from my body.
I closed my eyes and reached an arm behind me, feeling. In response to my whim, this new appendage reached downwards towards my hand. There was a softness I’d never known, and the nerve endings there tingled in response to my touch – firing messages to each other that told my brain how to interpret the physical sensations. I opened my eyes and looked at the thing currently laying flat upon me like a blanket. There was one on the other side, having emerged from the other shoulder. I gently caressed the softness, a feeling of awe and wonder taking me over. The feathers bristled gently as a shudder of expectation ran over my body.
These things. . .
I had wings.
Laying on my stomach, I tried to push myself upwards to get onto my feet. The wings were confused, pushing down upon the ground as though they were responding to the message I had sent to my arms to lift myself up. I tried to stop their movement, but instead of slowly retracting upwards, they flapped suddenly around. I was reminded of a fish out of water as my body was shoved by their movement onto one side. I didn’t know how to work these things.
I knew I should have been terrified, but despite not having the knowledge to make the wings work, I had the strangest feeling that they had always been mine. I stopped moving, allowing myself to lay on the ground to gather my thoughts and focus my efforts.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved one arm forward onto the ground into position to push myself upright. The wing on that side wanted to flap in response, shuddering and resisting my conscious urge to not push downward. I could feel the resistance to my commands, the pulsation and the confusion as my body tried to relearn how to work. I steadied myself and stopped the movement by closing my eyes and focussing hard. I moved the other arm out and commanded the wing to stay steady. It did. Sort of.
A few tries later I got onto my feet. My wings wanted desperately to flex themselves, and I let them. Not resisting seemed to help with maintaining my balance, as the wings themselves moved and adjusted my body for me so we could stand together.
It seemed my body had a new instinct now, a new awareness. New sensations were creeping all over me, tingling from the top of my head into my fingertips. I felt a raw sense of power, unrefined, but churning sl
owly beneath the surface. A promise of something magnificent, something incredible. I could feel the inside of my body letting go of any lingering resistance and I could almost visualize the cells in my body as they adapted. Restructured themselves. It was all perfectly normal, just nature taking over. The fear that had threatened to destroy me only hours ago seemed like an abstract memory from long ago.
I stood upright and reached my arm behind me, pulling my left wing forward from the bottom to inspect it. The wings were as black as night, although there were beautiful, small traces of gray that lined the feathers, coming away and pulling back together in places like a constellation. The lights from the distance shimmered off the immaculate surface of the black feathers, so pure and perfect I could hardly believe that perfection could exist. I stroked it gently and revelled at the sensation of my fingers running over the feathers. All of my fear was gone. . .or on hold. I didn’t know. I just knew that at that moment, I could only see the beauty and the wonder of the things.
“How come you’re different?” a rough voice barked.
“Shut up, idiot!” said another voice, this one younger but oozing with hostility.
I whipped around. Two young men, not much older than I, stood about twenty feet away. I would have noticed them, or heard them earlier, had I not been so enraptured by my new body.
It wasn’t necessarily their presence I found so shocking. Although I couldn’t see much more than their silhouettes in the darkness, it was distinct and clear that they too possessed wings. These were elevated in the air behind them, in a position I somehow knew indicated hyper-vigilance and danger. These two meant to hurt me, instinct told me.
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