SONDER : ALPHA, Leader of the Fallen

1 § 8 [ The Angel of Death ]

          The fury seeped out of Saskia as quickly as it had come on, leaving her breathless. Now she felt hollow, powerless. She wanted the anger back.

But it wasn't hers. Or, not hers— now? It felt like one of her echoed memories residing deep in her bones. She stood and decided she would brave the town after all. She needed her gloves, her knife and her treasures.

But every step felt wrong.

Saskia didn't see a single person. It may have been the beginning of nightfall, but no candles lit windows. No children protested bed time. No hushed whispers or hurried footsteps sounded.

She pressed on, until she found her temporary abode, hidden away in her shadows. The tree's dead branches reached into the night sky, twisting and gnarly. She ran her fingers over its wood, then crawled into its hollow ribcage, the grass dying under her gloveless fingers.

But this time, no echo of memories greeted her. Only silence.

Her brow knit on her forehead. She opened her box: her treasures were there, but they too were silent. She brushed her fingers over each one, but no whispers entered her mind.

Only the anger slithered at the very edge of her awareness. Every other dormant dream was silent.

Were they gone?

She knelt for a long time in the dampness, waiting for something to dance through her mind.

Her treasures were empty.

Saskia shook her head, then shut her box and tucked it into her sack. She found her knife under the mushroom ring and she untied her belt to thread the knife's sheath through it.

Saskia slipped out of the tree, then waved her hand through the shadows. They nestled into her palm, then sank under her skin, their cold glow infusing her. Her little home was once again simply a hollowed, dead tree.

The heavy silence of Emberley disturbed her, but she was glad for it: these people had tried to kill her. If it hadn't been for Azrael...

Why had he saved her? The Lady had told her about the Angel, but it didn't explain why—

—The Lady.

She remembered The Lady's vicious smile. The Lady had let them burn her. She had watched, and done nothing.

Saskia's heart pinched, but that couldn't possibly be right. The Lady had also summoned the rains. Saskia had seen her do it. She could have done it earlier— she had let her burn— she could have saved her any time she wanted to. That twisted smile— had she enjoyed her pain? No, no... The Lady had made it rain. The Lady had helped her. The Lady was all she had, she would never hurt her. The smile must have been imagined. Saskia had probably seen someone else smiling with such malice and twisted glee, it hadn't been on The Lady's face. The Lady had been horrified, had helped her, as soon as she could.

A heavy ache settled in her stomach and Saskia pushed it down, heading to the town square, where Luke and Azrael would be if they were purchasing supplies. But this late, she doubted they'd find any merchants there.

Saskia pressed on, the eery town seeming more and more of just an empty collection of old, wooden bones. Nothing breathed, nothing moved. Any moment, she would meet deep, ruby eyes— Azrael had stolen two kisses from her, one to heal her, and one in that dream. What would it be like to kiss him for real? She brushed her fingers over her lips.

She rounded on the square, but her feet froze, her smile falling from her lips. She couldn't comprehend her eyes, but now she knew why the town was as quiet as a grave. No wonder Luke was certain they wouldn't hurt her.