When The Sky Bleeds ✔️

Chapter 7

Our stomachs full and content, we made our way to the auditorium for the assembly. The anticipation built up inside me, causing my heart to race like a jackrabbit in my chest. Every step was like a leap toward a new beginning. Meradyth and Garrick stood at the entrance, their figures silhouetted against the bright lights pouring out from within the hall. As we approached, I could see their excited smiles and sense their unbridled energy filling the surrounding air. It was as if they were the gatekeepers to a world of endless possibilities and opportunities that awaited us.

The auditorium was dimly lit, with maroon curtains framing the stage. A large display screen hangs above, showcasing images of different breeds of demons.

Like the rest of the building, the room was a sight to behold. It was grand and detailed, with high arched ceilings and elegant chandeliers hanging from above. The seats were arranged in neat rows on the top balcony and the bottom, facing a stage decorated with biblical symbols and weapons. Banners hung from the walls, depicting swords, shields, and the cross.

As soon as we took our seats on the top balcony, my legs began to bounce up and down nervously. The energy in the room was electric, with excited chatter filling the air. The audience was a mix of first-years and Crusaders, their matching navy blue jackets standing out against the sea of students.

Finally, the curtains were drawn back, revealing an imposing figure on stage. He commanded attention with his tall stature and intimidating presence. Slowly, he made his way to the microphone, exuding confidence as if he owned the room. His white suit was perfectly tailored and polished, befitting of the grand atmosphere of the theater. His lengthy blonde locks were styled into a neat bun.

The deep, commanding voice of our leader boomed through the air as he welcomed us. "I am your general, Michael Azrael," he declared with an air of authority. Meradyth leaned over and whispered, "We all call him Saint Michael."

It was a fitting nickname for the general who exuded beauty as much as he did authority.

"Let us begin with a prayer," Saint Michael announced, gesturing for an older man to join him on stage. The man had wispy white hair and a kind smile. His voice, aged and weathered yet full of faith as he prayed, filled the space around us. The pastor commenced speaking in tongues before exiting the stage, receiving a nod of gratitude from the general as he departed. "I hope your visit thus far has been enjoyable," the general addressed the audience with a charming smile, eliciting nods and affirmations from many members. "However, let us not forget that this is not a vacation." The room fell into a hush as the general continued. "I am here to shed light on the harsh reality of joining our cause. Our world may seem enchanting and wondrous compared to the one you face out there," he gestured outward. "But it is not always so. It can be a merciless and brutal force, tearing apart everything you hold dear without remorse." From my peripheral vision, I saw Garrick squeeze Meradyth's hand. "Do not be mistaken. We are at war, and in war, death is inevitable. Among the annual average intake of around 150 recruits, an alarming 50% that join the Hunting faction are reported to have met their demise within two years. This shockingly high mortality rate highlights the hazardous nature of our line of work. The fact that you are all gathered here today means you have encountered demons within your lifetime. It is a miracle that none of you have fallen victim to possession, unlike many others." The general paused, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"The proliferation of demons is directly correlated to the decline of our world. Their primary objective? To target the vulnerable and non-believers, manipulating them for their gain and ultimately possessing them. The possessed are then used as pawns to spread curses and chaos amongst their loved ones and strangers alike. Death, illness, and suicide are just a few examples of these demonic influences as the world remains oblivious. When the non-believers die, they join the dark army. However, at the Light House, we do not enforce beliefs, but I must caution you - even here, as clairvoyants, you are at risk of being targeted by these malevolent beings. In fact, working with the Lighthouse puts a target on your back, making you a high-value bounty for the fallen angels. Many of you have already encountered this breed of demon - the notorious perchlings."