Paradiso

Part XI - Illa

Zanda was exhausted. She'd been shielding as many of her fellow angels as she could, saving them from Death's hands for just a moment longer—but she had been doing this for a day, at this point. Pulling this many miracles would be draining to any angel, regardless of age or skill. For her, it was running her ragged.

Maybe I'll just die of exhaustion in the end, she thought despairingly as she darted out of the way of the falling body of an angel. At least I wouldn't have to go like... them. Oh god, what am I going to do... To be honest, Zanda was terrified. Of death, yes, but something else, something greater: the premonition Sael had told her. "I have foreseen that you will be a great hero in the midst of it, Zanda," they had said. The words "great hero" had been running through her head ever since. How was she supposed to be a great hero? She wasn't anything. She couldn't do anything without direction. All she could do was follow what she was told to. And yet, the seraphim's instructions were maybe the first she couldn't follow: "You must start deciding for yourself."

She swallowed the spit that welled in her mouth from all her frenzied breathing. I can't decide. I wish Doelle were here. Doelle should be the hero, not me. No—Doelle was supposed to be untrustworthy, now. But how could that be the case? Without a doubt, Doelle was the most competent, intelligent person she knew. Sure, he had his flaws—his sharpness, his coldness, his pride—but she knew he was a good person. He was deeply caring under all that ice. He was someone she could depend on in times of need. She knew that for a fact; over the last three years, he had been the one to pull her out of danger. He was her mentor. He was her friend. For all she was concerned, he was her guardian angel. So what now? What was she supposed to do without him?

She weakly waved her hand to shield another angel nearby her, but, before the magic could adhere to them, a flash passed by, almost too fast to see. When it was gone, the angel fell, dead. Their body fluttered down to Earth in silence, like a leaf blown from a tree. Zanda's eyes widened in fear. Suddenly, another angel fell. Then another. A demon, a few metres away, plummeted in kind. Whatever this was—this agent of the Dread Prince, Death—it was killing indiscriminately. Zanda's breath quickened.

Then there it was. Coming towards her. She squeaked as she shielded herself with what little strength she had left. It took to her just in time—but it seemed luck wasn't on her side any further than that. She screamed in pain. Her forearm had been cut clean off. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she summoned her sword to her other hand. She was going to die; she knew this. If there was any time to try to fight back, to act on her own, she supposed now was it.

The thing came streaking back to her, but she held out her sword to stop it, weak as her grip was. Metal clashed with metal; the force of the strike nearly pushed Zanda out of the sky. The realisation of just what this creature was made her flight even shakier. Shock overwhelmed even the pain of her arm. No. No no. "D... Doelle?"

A whirling fire of emotion burned away any ice the angel had once had. Zanda had never seen him like this, not even at his lowest point. His eyes blazed with rage, grief, misery—regret above all else. His torment only increased as his gaze met Zanda's horrified one.

Without a word, in spite of his agony, he spun back and slashed down at her again. She fell out of the way, dodging only by chance. However, this disturbed her arm; another scream of pain burst from her. From where he hung above the young angel, that regret burned even brighter. He hesitated. He couldn't do this. He couldn't kill more of the people he cared for the most. He didn't care what was good or bad anymore—what was right or wrong, what was pure or evil. It was impossible. His sword fell from his hand.

Zanda's heart was racing faster than it ever had before. No. No. No! With the same grace Doelle had taught her over the last three years, she turned her sword upward. She flew up. It's blade stabbed through his chest.

The instant after she had realised what she had done, she screamed a third time. "Doelle!!" she cried. And then they began to fall.

As they dropped closer and closer to the ground, she held tightly to him, trying desperately to force her tired wings to flap, to save the both of them. The drag only slowed their descent. Tears streamed from her eyes, physical and emotional pain alike making her sob as she clung to her mentor. They hit the Earth with a thud, though it wasn't nearly as bad a crash as it would have been without Zanda attempting to fly.

She pulled herself up. She immediately regretted it—regretted looking, regretted stabbing him, regretted even existing—as she saw the gaping wound in Doelle's stomach. "I'm sorry, sir," she gushed. "I'm so so sorry. I-I- I didn't mean to. I'm sorry..."

His chest heaved. His eyelids fluttered. "Stop," he said softly. "You've always apologised too much. I'm sorry." He took a gasping breath. "You did a good job. Sael was right after all... you did have to start thinking for yourself."

"You- you knew about that?"

He nodded, saving his breath.

A million questions rushed through her head. Why had this happened? Why had he snapped? If he had known what Sael said, had he done this on purpose? Or had he tried to prevent it, as he always did? He always thought he was so strong, so cold; he thought that was what would fix everything. Maybe that was what led him here. Led him to die. She sobbed again.

"Don't cry, Zanda," he said quietly. A weak smile played across his face. "You're so sensitive." He coughed. "Go. Leave before someone catches you."

"I can't. I can't leave you. I can't do anything without you."

Doelle shuddered. "I thought you couldn't too," he said. "I thought no one could do anything without me. That they all depended on me, in some way. I thought I had to be perfect." He smiled again. The light was rapidly fading from his eyes. "I was wrong. The opposite was true; I couldn't do anything without them. I couldn't stand to be without them, even if I denied it. Because I wasn't perfect. I wasn't good. Or bad. But... maybe that isn't all that matters. Maybe..." His lips stilled. His eyes dimmed even further. And then, finally, with one last breath, Doelle died.