Chapter 200: 200
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Before I can finish my train of thought, Azrael launches himself in my direction, his hands outstretched, body shifting from one form to the next with a seamless ease. At first a boy, then a monster, each one and the same, yet entirely different.
"I may not be able to hurt you," he snarls, swiping empty air at the space that I once was. In my dizzying confidence, I flick him the finger as I dance around the room, still marvelling over the fact that he has not yet noticed Soren's absence from his spot on the floor. What an idiot.
"But you know what I can do," Azrael roars, anger only rising into a seething haze that swirls in viscous clouds around his form. "I can hurt other people. And I can force you to watch," he cackles, eyes flashing with a demented gleam that makes me believe all sense of reason has finally gone from him. Standing upright now, he rolls up his bloodied sleeves, pushing his hand out as it suddenly disappears in thin air. Watching this, I almost choke on my own salvia.
No, no, no, I think desperately, remembering the warning that Azrael has so crudely instilled into my mind, carved it out into my memory just as he had carved his fingers down Dawn's chest. I can't let him hurt anyone else.
But before I can do anything to prevent the measures he has already taken, Azrael's voice grasps back my attention.
"I just need to…" then he stops, his expression falling. From the portion of his arm that is visible, I see it wiggling about, a growing look of confusion etched onto his features. Something utters from his mouth, a series of inaudible words before he looks up sharply, his eyes staring right past me.
"They are gone. All my prisoners, they're-"
He looks up at me, his eyes suddenly in focus. The air ripples with tension between us and I feel his gaze begin to saw holes into my body. Heat waves ripple of his form, casting illusions into the dank air around him, his body rigid, the wings of his demon form flaring out behind him. A shock of fear jolts in my heart.
"You did this," he hisses with a rising screech, stretching out a bony finger in my direction, the skin marred in drying blood. "You took them. You took them didn't you?"
Chains raise off the ground, jangling their shackles as they snake towards me through the air. But those chains have already failed Azrael once, they would have no hope in chaining me for a second time.
"I-"
But before I can even get to shooting a snarky reply about the idiocy of Azrael, another voice cuts through my own.
"Actually," says a voice behind Azrael, a voice yet without a body. A swirling mist coils into cognition, black and impenetrable to sight. It rises up from the ground, climbing the air that is fumigated with the stench of blood like a reverse tornado before its form begins to solidify. Two yellow eyes spark this void of darkness.
"Serena didn't lay a hand on your prisoners. I, on the other hand, took great pleasure in releasing them all."
Soren's form is visible now. The same, and yet somehow, different. His eyes still boast that golden warmth, dampened with the frosted loathing for his younger brother. His glossy black hair still has that same elegant curl that makes his appearance entirely bewitching, streaked with dark brown in a tousled array of locks. His body is the same, the same pale, ashen skin and polished black nails, the same fine embroidered suit made to fit him just snuggly enough to show the structure of his body.
Yet behind him, reached out and ground as they splay the length of the room, are a set of black, bat-like wings, casting long shadows through the air and rippling with a menacing semblance. In that moment the room seems to be swept up with darkness, the air choked with a thick, black smog that curls from his wings.
I suppose this is the part of Soren's soul that he was always missing.
In one single moment, Soren's hand clenches around Azrael's neck, a choking sound emitting from the base of his brothers throat.
Soren's hand tightens on the back of Azrael's neck, causing Azrael's one good eye to widen in surprise, continuing to splutter against the strain being forced upon his neck. I am alarmed, or perhaps shocked, to notice who Soren has held in his hands- a little girl with angel wings and short white hair. Her pale floral dress is mudded and she boasts a few scratches on her wrist, but she is otherwise unharmed. In all honesty, I had presumed a much, much more perilous outcome for the little angel.
"Dawn," I breathe, taking a moment to look up at the little angel girl, who gives me a grateful smile as she sits atop Soren's shoulder, as if she knows all this is my doing. Then my eyes slip down to greet Soren's gaze, a warm look passing between us as my breath slips from my lungs. All at once I am surrendered, lost to the tender affection that sparkles in the depths of Soren's eyes, the delicate uplift of his lips as he throws me a gentle smile.
How I have missed him.
But the moment doesn't last.
"Brother," Azrael chokes in acknowledgement without looking round. Instead his eyes are fixed on me, his expression colder than the glaciers of the south, and all the more bitter. "I thought we said we wouldn't be playing any games, little girl."
"Don't address my wife like that," Soren snarls, his grip ever tightening around Azrael's neck to the point where I can tell that Azrael is holding back yet another choke. I can tell that it is only to avoid having his neck snapped that Azrael allows himself to be relinquished into silence. But underneath the façade of compliance, he is seething with rage.
"Take the little angel girl," Soren instructs to thin air beside him, a moment of puzzlement running through me until I realise he is not speaking to thin air at all. Delina and Kal warp into existence, their forms flickering momentarily, before settling down to a steady solidarity. From behind Azrael, Kal shoots me a lopsided grin, wiggling his eyebrows upon having achieved the feat we so desperately hoped we could pull off.
Then he takes Dawn carefully into his arms before scooting across the other side of the room to crouch by Ithuriel, running his fingers across the little fox's fur that is littered with debris and blood. Yet another twang of guilt pangs at my heart as I look upon the little fox who lies exhausted on the ground. I know there is little I could have done to help him while my goal was to keep Azrael distracted, but that does not wash away the shame that trickles through my heart.
"You did so well, my darling," Soren smiles his affirmation to me, ignoring the struggles of his brother under his grasp. "Dawn had high hopes for you when I went to get her. I do apologise, I didn't want to bring her to such a dangerous place, but she insisted."
Frowning, I turn my attention to the little angel tucked up in Kal's arms.
In this room, in this light, despite everything Dawn seems as vibrant as ever. Her face is shining, her eyes wide. Her body seems alive with magic, and the cuts that once adorned her skin are ever fading. There is some sort of fantastical radiance about her, a strength that crawls in her body that I never thought I would see again in my kind, yet in the presence of the flame, my people are positively alive.
Perhaps I had underestimated myself. With Soren, and with the flame lending me strength for my endeavours, this surely will be much easier than I thought.
As Azrael faces me across the room, his eyes narrowed to the point of them becoming moon-like slivers upon his face, his skin pallid, expression dull, he raises his nose to the air, just lightly enough that Soren will not be tempted to crush his neck into oblivion. He sniffs the air once, then twice, his tongue flickering out against his lips under the red light and shifting shadows that consume us. Once more, his form ripples with magic.
"Delina," he says cooly, fingers pattering against his trousers. "I can smell your perfume. Now, what on earth happened to you staying put? You surely haven't come here to kill me, have you?"
Behind him, Delina does not move. She merely stands frozen on the spot, her form doused in the crimson light that washes around her, her ruby eyes wary, a small shake to her form that wasn't there before.
Instinctively, Soren's hand tightens around Azrael's neck.
"You have no power over her here, brother," Soren growls lowly, the once honeyed notes of his voice replaced with a shivering cold. Black tendrils of darkness begins to lick the air surrounding Azrael, wisping across his skin, his arms, his body like wreathing snakes in a pit, threatening to coil his body into submission. I too, ready the flames in my hands, letting the golden flames fan out against the crimson aura that surrounds us. Azrael sees these flames, the darkness, but in the face of such potential risks to his life, he merely smiles, crossing his arms across himself.
"So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?"
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Before I can finish my train of thought, Azrael launches himself in my direction, his hands outstretched, body shifting from one form to the next with a seamless ease. At first a boy, then a monster, each one and the same, yet entirely different.
"I may not be able to hurt you," he snarls, swiping empty air at the space that I once was. In my dizzying confidence, I flick him the finger as I dance around the room, still marvelling over the fact that he has not yet noticed Soren's absence from his spot on the floor. What an idiot.
"But you know what I can do," Azrael roars, anger only rising into a seething haze that swirls in viscous clouds around his form. "I can hurt other people. And I can force you to watch," he cackles, eyes flashing with a demented gleam that makes me believe all sense of reason has finally gone from him. Standing upright now, he rolls up his bloodied sleeves, pushing his hand out as it suddenly disappears in thin air. Watching this, I almost choke on my own salvia.
No, no, no, I think desperately, remembering the warning that Azrael has so crudely instilled into my mind, carved it out into my memory just as he had carved his fingers down Dawn's chest. I can't let him hurt anyone else.
But before I can do anything to prevent the measures he has already taken, Azrael's voice grasps back my attention.
"I just need to…" then he stops, his expression falling. From the portion of his arm that is visible, I see it wiggling about, a growing look of confusion etched onto his features. Something utters from his mouth, a series of inaudible words before he looks up sharply, his eyes staring right past me.
"They are gone. All my prisoners, they're-"
He looks up at me, his eyes suddenly in focus. The air ripples with tension between us and I feel his gaze begin to saw holes into my body. Heat waves ripple of his form, casting illusions into the dank air around him, his body rigid, the wings of his demon form flaring out behind him. A shock of fear jolts in my heart.
"You did this," he hisses with a rising screech, stretching out a bony finger in my direction, the skin marred in drying blood. "You took them. You took them didn't you?"
Chains raise off the ground, jangling their shackles as they snake towards me through the air. But those chains have already failed Azrael once, they would have no hope in chaining me for a second time.
"I-"
But before I can even get to shooting a snarky reply about the idiocy of Azrael, another voice cuts through my own.
"Actually," says a voice behind Azrael, a voice yet without a body. A swirling mist coils into cognition, black and impenetrable to sight. It rises up from the ground, climbing the air that is fumigated with the stench of blood like a reverse tornado before its form begins to solidify. Two yellow eyes spark this void of darkness.
"Serena didn't lay a hand on your prisoners. I, on the other hand, took great pleasure in releasing them all."
Soren's form is visible now. The same, and yet somehow, different. His eyes still boast that golden warmth, dampened with the frosted loathing for his younger brother. His glossy black hair still has that same elegant curl that makes his appearance entirely bewitching, streaked with dark brown in a tousled array of locks. His body is the same, the same pale, ashen skin and polished black nails, the same fine embroidered suit made to fit him just snuggly enough to show the structure of his body.
Yet behind him, reached out and ground as they splay the length of the room, are a set of black, bat-like wings, casting long shadows through the air and rippling with a menacing semblance. In that moment the room seems to be swept up with darkness, the air choked with a thick, black smog that curls from his wings.
I suppose this is the part of Soren's soul that he was always missing.
In one single moment, Soren's hand clenches around Azrael's neck, a choking sound emitting from the base of his brothers throat.
Soren's hand tightens on the back of Azrael's neck, causing Azrael's one good eye to widen in surprise, continuing to splutter against the strain being forced upon his neck. I am alarmed, or perhaps shocked, to notice who Soren has held in his hands- a little girl with angel wings and short white hair. Her pale floral dress is mudded and she boasts a few scratches on her wrist, but she is otherwise unharmed. In all honesty, I had presumed a much, much more perilous outcome for the little angel.
"Dawn," I breathe, taking a moment to look up at the little angel girl, who gives me a grateful smile as she sits atop Soren's shoulder, as if she knows all this is my doing. Then my eyes slip down to greet Soren's gaze, a warm look passing between us as my breath slips from my lungs. All at once I am surrendered, lost to the tender affection that sparkles in the depths of Soren's eyes, the delicate uplift of his lips as he throws me a gentle smile.
How I have missed him.
But the moment doesn't last.
"Brother," Azrael chokes in acknowledgement without looking round. Instead his eyes are fixed on me, his expression colder than the glaciers of the south, and all the more bitter. "I thought we said we wouldn't be playing any games, little girl."
"Don't address my wife like that," Soren snarls, his grip ever tightening around Azrael's neck to the point where I can tell that Azrael is holding back yet another choke. I can tell that it is only to avoid having his neck snapped that Azrael allows himself to be relinquished into silence. But underneath the façade of compliance, he is seething with rage.
"Take the little angel girl," Soren instructs to thin air beside him, a moment of puzzlement running through me until I realise he is not speaking to thin air at all. Delina and Kal warp into existence, their forms flickering momentarily, before settling down to a steady solidarity. From behind Azrael, Kal shoots me a lopsided grin, wiggling his eyebrows upon having achieved the feat we so desperately hoped we could pull off.
Then he takes Dawn carefully into his arms before scooting across the other side of the room to crouch by Ithuriel, running his fingers across the little fox's fur that is littered with debris and blood. Yet another twang of guilt pangs at my heart as I look upon the little fox who lies exhausted on the ground. I know there is little I could have done to help him while my goal was to keep Azrael distracted, but that does not wash away the shame that trickles through my heart.
"You did so well, my darling," Soren smiles his affirmation to me, ignoring the struggles of his brother under his grasp. "Dawn had high hopes for you when I went to get her. I do apologise, I didn't want to bring her to such a dangerous place, but she insisted."
Frowning, I turn my attention to the little angel tucked up in Kal's arms.
In this room, in this light, despite everything Dawn seems as vibrant as ever. Her face is shining, her eyes wide. Her body seems alive with magic, and the cuts that once adorned her skin are ever fading. There is some sort of fantastical radiance about her, a strength that crawls in her body that I never thought I would see again in my kind, yet in the presence of the flame, my people are positively alive.
Perhaps I had underestimated myself. With Soren, and with the flame lending me strength for my endeavours, this surely will be much easier than I thought.
As Azrael faces me across the room, his eyes narrowed to the point of them becoming moon-like slivers upon his face, his skin pallid, expression dull, he raises his nose to the air, just lightly enough that Soren will not be tempted to crush his neck into oblivion. He sniffs the air once, then twice, his tongue flickering out against his lips under the red light and shifting shadows that consume us. Once more, his form ripples with magic.
"Delina," he says cooly, fingers pattering against his trousers. "I can smell your perfume. Now, what on earth happened to you staying put? You surely haven't come here to kill me, have you?"
Behind him, Delina does not move. She merely stands frozen on the spot, her form doused in the crimson light that washes around her, her ruby eyes wary, a small shake to her form that wasn't there before.
Instinctively, Soren's hand tightens around Azrael's neck.
"You have no power over her here, brother," Soren growls lowly, the once honeyed notes of his voice replaced with a shivering cold. Black tendrils of darkness begins to lick the air surrounding Azrael, wisping across his skin, his arms, his body like wreathing snakes in a pit, threatening to coil his body into submission. I too, ready the flames in my hands, letting the golden flames fan out against the crimson aura that surrounds us. Azrael sees these flames, the darkness, but in the face of such potential risks to his life, he merely smiles, crossing his arms across himself.
"So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?"
Before I can finish my train of thought, Azrael launches himself in my direction, his hands outstretched, body shifting from one form to the next with a seamless ease. At first a boy, then a monster, each one and the same, yet entirely different."I may not be able to hurt you," he snarls, swiping empty air at the space that I once was. In my dizzying confidence, I flick him the finger as I dance around the room, still marvelling over the fact that he has not yet noticed Soren's absence from his spot on the floor. What an idiot."But you know what I can do," Azrael roars, anger only rising into a seething haze that swirls in viscous clouds around his form. "I can hurt other people. And I can force you to watch," he cackles, eyes flashing with a demented gleam that makes me believe all sense of reason has finally gone from him. Standing upright now, he rolls up his bloodied sleeves, pushing his hand out as it suddenly disappears in thin air. Watching this, I almost choke on my own salvia. No, no, no, I think desperately, remembering the warning that Azrael has so crudely instilled into my mind, carved it out into my memory just as he had carved his fingers down Dawn's chest. I can't let him hurt anyone else.But before I can do anything to prevent the measures he has already taken, Azrael's voice grasps back my attention."I just need to" then he stops, his expression falling. From the portion of his arm that is visible, I see it wiggling about, a growing look of confusion etched onto his features. Something utters from his mouth, a series of inaudible words before he looks up sharply, his eyes staring right past me."They are gone. All my prisoners, they're-"He looks up at me, his eyes suddenly in focus. The air ripples with tension between us and I feel his gaze begin to saw holes into my body. Heat waves ripple of his form, casting illusions into the dank air around him, his body rigid, the wings of his demon form flaring out behind him. A shock of fear jolts in my heart."You did this," he hisses with a rising screech, stretching out a bony finger in my direction, the skin marred in drying blood. "You took them. You took them didn't you?"Chains raise off the ground, jangling their shackles as they snake towards me through the air. But those chains have already failed Azrael once, they would have no hope in chaining me for a second time."I-"But before I can even get to shooting a snarky reply about the idiocy of Azrael, another voice cuts through my own."Actually," says a voice behind Azrael, a voice yet without a body. A swirling mist coils into cognition, black and impenetrable to sight. It rises up from the ground, climbing the air that is fumigated with the stench of blood like a reverse tornado before its form begins to solidify. Two yellow eyes spark this void of darkness."Serena didn't lay a hand on your prisoners. I, on the other hand, took great pleasure in releasing them all."Soren's form is visible now. The same, and yet somehow, different. His eyes still boast that golden warmth, dampened with the frosted loathing for his younger brother. His glossy black hair still has that same elegant curl that makes his appearance entirely bewitching, streaked with dark brown in a tousled array of locks. His body is the same, the same pale, ashen skin and polished black nails, the same fine embroidered suit made to fit him just snuggly enough to show the structure of his body. Yet behind him, reached out and ground as they splay the length of the room, are a set of black, bat-like wings, casting long shadows through the air and rippling with a menacing semblance. In that moment the room seems to be swept up with darkness, the air choked with a thick, black smog that curls from his wings.I suppose this is the part of Soren's soul that he was always missing. In one single moment, Soren's hand clenches around Azrael's neck, a choking sound emitting from the base of his brothers throat.Soren's hand tightens on the back of Azrael's neck, causing Azrael's one good eye to widen in surprise, continuing to splutter against the strain being forced upon his neck. I am alarmed, or perhaps shocked, to notice who Soren has held in his hands- a little girl with angel wings and short white hair. Her pale floral dress is mudded and she boasts a few scratches on her wrist, but she is otherwise unharmed. In all honesty, I had presumed a much, much more perilous outcome for the little angel."Dawn," I breathe, taking a moment to look up at the little angel girl, who gives me a grateful smile as she sits atop Soren's shoulder, as if she knows all this is my doing. Then my eyes slip down to greet Soren's gaze, a warm look passing between us as my breath slips from my lungs. All at once I am surrendered, lost to the tender affection that sparkles in the depths of Soren's eyes, the delicate uplift of his lips as he throws me a gentle smile.How I have missed him.But the moment doesn't last."Brother," Azrael chokes in acknowledgement without looking round. Instead his eyes are fixed on me, his expression colder than the glaciers of the south, and all the more bitter. "I thought we said we wouldn't be playing any games, little girl.""Don't address my wife like that," Soren snarls, his grip ever tightening around Azrael's neck to the point where I can tell that Azrael is holding back yet another choke. I can tell that it is only to avoid having his neck snapped that Azrael allows himself to be relinquished into silence. But underneath the faade of compliance, he is seething with rage."Take the little angel girl," Soren instructs to thin air beside him, a moment of puzzlement running through me until I realise he is not speaking to thin air at all. Delina and Kal warp into existence, their forms flickering momentarily, before settling down to a steady solidarity. From behind Azrael, Kal shoots me a lopsided grin, wiggling his eyebrows upon having achieved the feat we so desperately hoped we could pull off. Then he takes Dawn carefully into his arms before scooting across the other side of the room to crouch by Ithuriel, running his fingers across the little fox's fur that is littered with debris and blood. Yet another twang of guilt pangs at my heart as I look upon the little fox who lies exhausted on the ground. I know there is little I could have done to help him while my goal was to keep Azrael distracted, but that does not wash away the shame that trickles through my heart."You did so well, my darling," Soren smiles his affirmation to me, ignoring the struggles of his brother under his grasp. "Dawn had high hopes for you when I went to get her. I do apologise, I didn't want to bring her to such a dangerous place, but she insisted."Frowning, I turn my attention to the little angel tucked up in Kal's arms.In this room, in this light, despite everything Dawn seems as vibrant as ever. Her face is shining, her eyes wide. Her body seems alive with magic, and the cuts that once adorned her skin are ever fading. There is some sort of fantastical radiance about her, a strength that crawls in her body that I never thought I would see again in my kind, yet in the presence of the flame, my people are positively alive. Perhaps I had underestimated myself. With Soren, and with the flame lending me strength for my endeavours, this surely will be much easier than I thought.As Azrael faces me across the room, his eyes narrowed to the point of them becoming moon-like slivers upon his face, his skin pallid, expression dull, he raises his nose to the air, just lightly enough that Soren will not be tempted to crush his neck into oblivion. He sniffs the air once, then twice, his tongue flickering out against his lips under the red light and shifting shadows that consume us. Once more, his form ripples with magic."Delina," he says cooly, fingers pattering against his trousers. "I can smell your perfume. Now, what on earth happened to you staying put? You surely haven't come here to kill me, have you?"Behind him, Delina does not move. She merely stands frozen on the spot, her form doused in the crimson light that washes around her, her ruby eyes wary, a small shake to her form that wasn't there before.Instinctively, Soren's hand tightens around Azrael's neck."You have no power over her here, brother," Soren growls lowly, the once honeyed notes of his voice replaced with a shivering cold. Black tendrils of darkness begins to lick the air surrounding Azrael, wisping across his skin, his arms, his body like wreathing snakes in a pit, threatening to coil his body into submission. I too, ready the flames in my hands, letting the golden flames fan out against the crimson aura that surrounds us. Azrael sees these flames, the darkness, but in the face of such potential risks to his life, he merely smiles, crossing his arms across himself."So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?"
