Salvation, Fallen Angel Series, Book One

PROLOGUE

"Your actions have cast a black mark on your name. You were warned to stay out of this fight. For your disobedience and because you recruited your fellow Cherub sisters to join your independent movement, you will all be punished as an example. Disobeying heavenly decree, no matter what the motivation, is not accepted."

Raphael spoke in pleb, the language of the lowest caste, further condemning her by treating Isabella like a commoner. His authoritative voice peppered through the pain gripping her body. She gagged on the blood in her throat. She knew he made his task showy when his pointed whip sliced through the air to punctuate the ending of each sentence, cutting into her already sore and scar-covered back, ensuring she got the message.

Biting the insides of her cheeks, she tasted her own life essence.

"We want to help. We can aid in this heavenly war. We are only striving to serve the greater good." She ground out the words—a feeble attempt to reclaim a semblance of dignity—willing him and the Septuagint Council—the thirteen-member council that had ruled against them—to understand their desire to help.

The demons pounding on the heavenly gates were increasing in number, and their attacks into the heavenly realm had only grown more brazen over the years. To sit on the side and watch her brethren fall had been too much for Isabella. A gasp from one of her sisters forced her mind to the present. She almost wished she hadn't.

"Order must be maintained."

Raphael swept out his arm, making Isabella's eyes follow his movement. The black whip reminded her of a coiled snake slithering along behind him to exact her punishment. Standing clustered together, six of the seven Cherub angels, all novices like herself, faced the Septuagint Council.

"Leave them. This is my crime." Isabella's fear for her sisters caused her courage to slip. Guilt that she had been the one to set this drama into motion weighed heavily on her. She didn't bother speaking in the formal tongue of scripture, and went straight to pleb. A transgression, adding to her list of Cherub faults that made her different in the eyes of the Council. Her voice, steady, pleased her. Everything else about what had happened to her and her fellow Cherubs who had followed her movement of independence left bile in her throat. I beg of thee spare them.

"Judgement has been written. Disobeying Cherub law merits penance. Disobeying the Mistress, who sits on the right hand of the Almighty, merits exile."

Isabella caught the holy glow from the polished Kita—the sword ordained to extract punishment. Cold sweat broke out everywhere, and her eyes widened as she choked on the acrid taste of fear, knowing it showed plainly on her face.

Raphael pulled her right wing hard, making it taut.

"Exile! I will take exile!" Her screaming plea met deaf ears.

Raphael moved the sword in a fast arc. Isabella caught the reflected horror mirrored on her sisters' faces. The sword had only been used one other time. Isabella did not want to be the second.