Angel of the lake

Chapter Four

The barrier felt like hell to pass. It didn't want to let her go. But the Mistresses gave her a harder push, forcing her through its protection.

On the other side, there was nothing. No land for her to step onto. No trees for her to grip. Just sky. Nothing but cold, wet sky.

And then there was the falling.

She closed her eyes, feeling the rush of everything around her.

It was too much.

My wings.

The painful irony.

Five minutes ago, she could've saved herself from this. With just a small flutter from her wings, she'd be back through that barrier, her feet safe and sound on the ground. Now, with that excruciating pain of absence still tearing through her back, she had no choice but to fall.

She was fallen.

Banished.

Was this a dream?

A bad dream she couldn't seem to wake up from.

It had to be. Meg had been within those heavens her entire life. Two hundred and fifty years. She'd tried every sin in the book and never been thrown out for it.

The sin wasn't one against tradition. The sin was against regime.

You've sinned.

And now Meg would pay for it.

It felt like she was falling forever. Like this was some nightmare she couldn't escape. Like this was the end of the line. Like the pain would never end.

She dared to open her eyes after forever. They burned like her back, the corners of them pricking with tears. But in the brief moment she'd had them open, she spotted a canopy of trees with an opening near the centre.

An opening her body hurtled closer to.

Another chance to open her eyes never came. One second she was falling. The next, her body hit the water.

Ice broke through her lungs. Water so cold it felt piercing.

Maybe she'd rather die.

Her brain would explode. Somehow, the water made her back feel even worse.

The surface!

The first rule of survival said she had to get to the surface. She could deal with this cold later. Right now, she needed to breathe. Bubbles circled her as she failed too, arms flailing to push her to the top.

A resounding splash hit the water some distance away from her.

She felt the ripples of force coming towards her.

Gone was her flailing.

A large palm enveloped her arm, hoisting her to the top.

I'm alive.

With her head above the water, Meg spluttered, pushing her wet tresses out of her eyes.

She wished she hadn't. She wished instantly that she hadn't.

Blindness was better than reality.

Some sort of man swam before her, blonde hair darkened by the water. It wasn't his hair Meg was concerned with. It was those long red horns poking up from within it. If she could get over those, it was his face next. Meg didn't really see his face. Not his features at least. Rather she saw those curling scars that painted this man a warlord. The body of this man was enormous, encased in armour that served to haunt Meg.