False Confidence

Angel of Death

Azriel Huang

(TW: SLIGHT GORE)

BOOM!

The ground-shaking noise wrestled me from whatever hold unconsciousness appeared to have on me. I instinctively tried to sit up, only to meet the force of my metal restraints. I hissed out in pain, the rusty edges digging into the already reddened flesh around my wrists.

My pain was short-lived, a series of equally violent explosions sounding, closer and closer. I tried against my restraints once more, panic staving back the stinging sensation on my arms. I expected even more protest from my body, due to how Natalia had chopped me up like loose cutlets of steak. Yet when I dared to glance down, nothing remained but Natalia's name on my calf and a few gashes here and there.

I made a small sound of confusion, sanity seeming easy to lose in the moment. There was no possible way I could have imagined it, I remembered everything in gruesome detail. With deplorable clarity, I could recall every swipe and saw of her butcher's blade. I shuddered violently just thinking about it.

BOOM!

Adrenaline rushed into my veins, spurred by the belligerent shaking of the room and dust flying down from the ceiling.

"FUCK! C'mon." I cursed, bucking up my hips, trying with all my might to break away from the bands of metal. "C'mon C'monC'monC'mon" I muttered frantically, shutting out the beginning sounds of screaming and gunshots.

Exhaustion beat down on me relentlessly, the still present wounds and the phantom pain of once was there, ate away at whatever drowsy energy I had left. Frustrated tears sprung in my eyes, the closest I had been to crying in what felt like centuries, the writhing of my body causing them to drip down my face slowly and reluctantly. Providing vast contrast to the chaos unleashed around me.

"Please." I whimpered to no one, hating how weak I sounded and hating the Church more for forcing it out of me. I tried again and again, heart beating so fast, I thought it'd come bursting out of my chest.

"PLEASE." I cried out, my breath quickening unevenly, a heavy sob finally forcing out of me. It was a quiet, pathetic sound thats bounced off thin walls. "Please." I whispered once more into the dust-ridden air, defeat heavy in my tone.

As if the Goddess had heard my pleas, the metal door whined in agony, a heavy thud causing its frame shudder. I froze, every inch of my body going unnaturally still. A low, muffled snarl followed another assault on the steel. I propped my head up, watching as the doors lock creaked. Twin voices muttered loudly before a barrage of blows were dealt to the metal.

Finally giving in, the door came whipping open, the piece falling off its heavy hinges. Momentarily, it went silent, a faint ringing in my ears taking over from the sounds of war. Tears went cold on the sweaty planes of my face, my vision blurring before focusing in on the two figures in the doorway.

After pausing for a few tense seconds, they came rushing towards me.

"Azriel." Sasha rasped over me, taking tentative steps as he neared the edge of the table. Wren hung back despite the crippling concern I noted in his darkened gaze. Relief and a sense of security settled in, bone deep. Not just because of Sasha, but because he had brought Wren with him.

Wren.

__________

Wren Brooke

I strapped in what felt like my fiftieth blade, fastening it in the holster on my ribs with startling speed. After shrugging on one of the Eastborne military jackets, I swiftly laced my sturdy combat boots. The barracks were bustling with movement, ready for deployment at any minute. We had encroached on the fortress, ready for siege, ready to launch the first attack on the Church. Our forces crept slowly, weaponry and loading trucks stopped about a mile away. It was the dead of night, and if the Church knew we were here, they hadn't let it show.