The Angel Fell Twice

Chapter 17. Traitor

The night cloaked Stormfell in a shroud of darkness, with only the feeble moonlight piercing through the dense mist that enveloped the cobblestone streets. Marina, wrapped in a heavy cloak that swept the ground, navigated the narrow alleys with careful steps. She sighed, deep in thought.
As she turned a corner, a prickle of unease ran down her spine. Her instincts, sharpened by years of training, alerted her to imminent danger. From the depths of the darkness, two figures materialized, their faces obscured by hoods and masks. The first assassin lunged, a dagger gleaming ominously in the dim light. Marina reacted swiftly, her own dagger flashing as she parried the strike. The clash of steel rang out, sending a jarring shiver up her arm. "Who are you?" Marina demanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"Knights of your former guild," the assassin sneered, "They've placed a hefty bounty on you, traitor."
A surge of fear and anger propelled her actions. Marina kicked the assassin back, her cloak flaring as she sprinted away. "Ragnar was right," she murmured, eyes scanning the labyrinthine streets. She veered sharply, leading her pursuers away from the main roads and towards the edge of the forest.
The chill of the night bit into her as she ran, her breath forming misty clouds. Behind her, the assassins' footsteps pounded heavily, their shouts and curses muffled by the thickening fog. The forest loomed ahead, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.
Marina plunged into the undergrowth, the cloak snagging on brambles as she pushed deeper into the woods. The forest floor was uneven, her boots slipping on the damp earth, but she pressed on with grim determination. The assassins' curses grew fainter as they struggled to keep up, their movements hampered by the dense foliage.
In a small clearing bathed in ghostly moonlight, Marina paused to catch her breath, her hands trembling as she gripped her dagger. The assassins' footsteps were growing louder, their heavy breathing a constant reminder of the danger closing in on her.
As they emerged into the clearing, Marina readied herself for the confrontation. The lead assassin, a tall figure with a scarred face, raised a sword. Marina's eyes were resolute, her breath steady despite her racing heart. She would not fall here, not tonight.
The assassin advanced, but Marina swiftly deflected his blow, her dagger flashing in the moonlight. A sudden explosion echoed through the clearing, sending the lead assassin crashing into another. "W-What was that?" one of the attackers exclaimed, confusion and fear in his voice.
Marina seized the opportunity. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her dagger flying into the shoulder of another attacker, summoning a new one with a whispered incantation. Angelic letterings, glowing with a soft gold, floated around her. The remaining assassins recoiled, fear evident in their eyes.
"What is she?" one of them muttered in terror.
Breathing heavily, Marina took advantage of their hesitation. She darted back into the forest, the shadows swallowing her up as she disappeared from view. The disoriented assassins, now hesitant and wounded, retreated into the night, their pursuit abandoned.

Marina moved quietly through the ruins of the abandoned church, her hands working with a gentle but purposeful touch. She carefully placed fresh flowers on the altar, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the gray and crumbling stone around her. She sighed softly.
From a distance, Ragnar watched her. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over his rugged features as he stood among the trees. He felt a pang of conflicting emotions—a mix of admiration and irritation. "She disgusts me," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. Yet, even as he swallowed his disdain, he could not deny the quiet grace in her movements, a contrast to the chaos that had driven them apart.

The next morning, Ragnar saw Marina again, this time tending to a small injured bird she had found. Her hands were gentle as she wrapped the creature in a makeshift bandage, her expression one of deep care. To Ragnar, it seemed both bothersome and irritating. "Why does she waste her time on such things?" he wondered, scowling from the shadows.

That night, as the stars blinked coldly overhead, Ragnar sat silently in the darkened ruins of the church. The soft crunch of footsteps on the debris announced Marina's return, her arms laden with a basket of fresh fruits and meat. The dim light from her lantern cast flickering shadows on the walls. Ragnar's eyes narrowed as he took in her presence, irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ragnar's voice cut through the silence, rough and unforgiving.
"I just wanted to fix up the place..." Marina replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You seem to hold this place dearly."
"It is the only place I've found peace," Ragnar answered, his tone edged with bitterness. "From people like you."
Marina's eyes, filled with a blend of weariness and hope, met his. "I am not like them. On the contrary, they are hunting me down. I seek shelter here..."
Ragnar scoffed, his face twisted with scorn. "I do not own the damn place. Do as you please." His harsh tone cut through the night air, and he turned away, his back rigid with anger. Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Marina glanced at him, noticing his sluggish movements. His wounds were not fully healed, his body still bearing the marks of his struggles. A pang of empathy flickered in her heart, though she said nothing.

Under the moonlight, which cast a soft glow over the ruined church, Marina approached Ragnar with a deep sense of regret. Her cloak fluttered gently around her as she spoke, her voice steady and sincere.
"I must apologize that I did not believe you," she said. "Yet, no matter the cause, this endless conflict will only lead to more bloodshed. By killing them, you merely validate their claims of being a monster."
Ragnar tightened his grip on his sword hilt. "I do not care about their perceptions. I was damned to evil since birth. So I choose to define my own evil."
"Really?" Marina moved closer, her tone gentle and concerned. "Who has condemned you to be evil?"
He looked away. "God. This hell we call earth, that inhabits people with souls more rotten than any beast."
Marina sat beside him, her voice warm and comforting. "Not all is shadowed in darkness. When I was but an infant, my parents were unable to care for me. A human took me in, raised me with kindness, and illuminated my path with her love." She looked down, a soft smile touching her lips as she remembered her late mother. "One must focus and seek where the light resides."
"Not everyone is granted such fortune," he spoke, looking down at his scar-covered arms.
"What happened to you...?" she asked softly, her hand instinctively tracing his scar.

He grabbed onto her wrist, glaring at her, their faces close. "Stop trying to get to know me. There is no big revelation, no cure for what I am... I'm just a bloody, tangled mess of an imp. That will never change. I have too much rage and pain in my head, things I can't erase from my memory and being. Things I can never forgive."
"I seek no cure, Ragnar," Marina replied softly. "I merely wish to understand—"
Suddenly, the distant chanting of the Holy Legion filled the night air. Ragnar's glared at her. "You summoned them?" he spat, "To think you nearly had me fooled."