Angelic Omen

Purpose

The smoke rose from now burning buildings, making it hard for Krel to see or breathe. The acrid stench stung her senses. Her eyes watered as ash got into them. When she looked down, she immediately regretted it. The demons had come. Two of them were cornering an Angel mother and her child. The mother was wrapping her wings around the child. The two demons shared the same psychopathic grin.

Krel looked away, keeping her focus on the castle.

A demon on the ground must have spotted her, for he purposefully flew up and shoved her to the side. He was holding what looked like a bloody, black spear. The point was aimed at Krel.

Thinking fast, Krel flew downward and back up behind the demon, grabbing the spear from behind and whacking him on the back of the head with the handle. The demon cried out as a loud crack resounded, and he went limp as he fell to the ground. The spear followed as Krel dropped it.

Not wanting to see if the demon survived the fall, Krel continued.

It wasn't too hard to get into the castle. It was the only thing untouched - the demons probably wanted to save the grand edifice for last. It was also unguarded, confirming Krel's suspicions: the king and queen must, indeed, be dead.

Krel burst through the doors, headed straight down the hall to the throne room. It's a good thing Xana had made sure she knew the castle, otherwise she would have gotten lost.

When she reached the throne room, she discovered it to be empty except for the two bodies on the ground.

The first was that of the king - blood seemed to cover half of his face, and his limbs seemed splayed at sickening, impossible angles. Like he was a ragdoll, left abandoned on the throne room floor.

The other wasn't a body, for the angel was still alive.

Krel rushed over to Kyrlas, under her breath repeating, "Oh, don't die, don't die, don't die-"

Kyrlas was weak and immobilized against the wall. Blood poured from a wound on the back of his head, where it had made contact with the wall. A splatter of crimson was behind him, stained on the wall.

Krel shook him slightly, and he groaned as the movement sent spikes of agony through his skull. Kyrlas blinked, his vision coming into focus. He felt like his thoughts were swimming through an ocean of tar, his tongue thick as he tried to talk.

"K...Krel-l..." Kyrlas said shakily, his words slurring a bit. He had brain damage, there was no doubt about that. But he knew Krel, and he recognized her kneeling in front of him. He tried to move, but every part of him hurt, didn't respond the way it should. He held in a scream, knowing it wouldn't help the agony.

"Oh, Kyrlas, I- what happened?" Krel asked. Though she knew the answer before Kyrlas replied grimly:

"D-demon."

———

Xana appeared in the room he knew Sxorces would be. He felt a wave of deja vu as he recognized his deathplace. His hand instinctively moved to the scar over his chest, which throbbed with a dull, absent pain.

But he shook the memories away. No time for that now.

Sxorces stood at the balcony, the same place where he had brought ruin to this city hundreds of years ago. In the demon's body, he looked much more threatening than he had when he had first betrayed the kingdom. He looked over the now burning city, insane glee burning in his gaze.

Sxorces sensed the new presence, and grinned. "Well, isn't this familiar."

Sxorces turned, smiling at Xana. "I remember this. You had come to challenge my rule. And we had killed each other."

Xana growled. "Quit stalling, Sxorces. You're no more king now than you were back then.

Sxorces laughed, a maniacal, unpleasant sound. "I guess you're right there. Because," he pointed to the crown the floated atop his head. "I killed Montelor. I am the king."

"Uh huh. And what are you going to do with that authority once you've killed every angel in the kingdom?" Xana challenged.

Sxorces grinned. "Well, after that I have two options. I could see that my purpose is completed, and would finally be able to ascend or be reborn. Or..."

One of his tails flicked. "Or I could rule the demons. Sornax can't be that hard to kill."

Xana rolled his eyes. "Well, to do that... you'd have to exist. And I don't know about you..."

A spear materialized in his hand. "But the reason I still walk the same plain you do is because you still exist."

Sxorces looked at the spear with a bored expression. "What's that going to do?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Would spoil the surprise."

Sxorces gazed at the spear a bit longer before looking back at Xana with a grin. "What about your angel friend? I don't think she'd be pleased if you killed her little demon lover."

Xana's expression didn't change, but something clicked in his mind. He wasn't a direct parent or sibling of Krel. But he cared for her as such. Sure, the only reason he had come to her in the first place was to prepare her for a possible return of Sxorces. But he was both her ancestor and her guardian.

Finally, he decided. The spear disappeared.

"You're right," Xana said.

Then, after a moment of silence, he stated, "I'll just have to pry your soul from that demon myself."

Xana lunged, grabbing Sxorce's arm and yanking it towards him. The demon moved with him, although Xana didn't make any contact with his skin. His claws dug into Sxorce's arm, and he felt blood drip from the punctures. Sxorces may be a spirit, but he was still connected to the living plain. Therefore, he still had blood.

Sxorces jerked his arm back out of Xana's grip. Only Xana and Sxorces could see the blood drip from Sxorce's arm. Sxorce's eyes narrowed as he glared at Xana.

"So that's how we're gonna play," Sxorces said, smiling.

"So be it."

————

I can't move.

I can't move.

I'm alone.

It's dark here.

I can't breathe.

It was like the smoke clogged ever bit of firelight, every crackling of the flames. Ash seemed to fill my lungs, my throat, everything. I coughed as I tried to suck in any oxygen left in the carbon dioxide-thick air

I wrapped my tails around myself, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my arms on them. I buried my face in my arms, tears welling in my eyes from hopelessness and the ash in the air.

Is this how I'll die? Will I remain in this... this horrible Hell until my final days? No way to see what was happening outside my mind, outside this dimension of suffering?

I looked at the golden strings that still dug deep into my wrists. They would be scarred, I knew, if the strings ever came off. If. They may never. They could stay there, a reminder of the puppet I now was. A vessel for destruction.

Curling up tightly, I let the tears fall, choking on ash as I sobbed.

————

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