Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

Halved

 I awoke in a bed, and the first thing I realized was that I was still in Purgatory because I could smell rotting wood.

I was feeling very sore. I had a hard time opening my eyes, and a harder one sitting upright.

Conifer was on the other side of the room. He was reading a book. How was he such a good reader? I could probably not read a book.

There were bandages around my head, and I itched at them idly. I yawned.

"You're awake. Sorry, again. Things got a bit out of hand. I think- I guess you're free to go. She- uh, sort of like the owner of this place, that is- doesn't want to speak to you right now, but she did stop in and examine you."

"I'm not really feeling-" I yawned again. "Well enough to go anywhere."

"You'll recover fast. Angels always do." He seemed a bit sad about this fact.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, uh. Officially it's lust- you know, sex and all that. I guess I did a bit more than that too. All the stealing and work-shirking and doubting that I did. But officially, it's lust."

"With who?"

"We didn't pair off, so uh, it was Mazrael. Me and him sort of had something for a while, actually. I thought it was pretty serious, but he sold me out for a couple points of favor. More specifically, so he wouldn't get felled, he accused me of forcing my sinful ways upon him. Big trial. It wasn't pleasant."

"Hey, if I see him when I get back to Heaven, I'll be sure to politely express my displeasure on your behalf."

"Ah, thanks. But, about that..."

He seemed reluctant about something, and I figured that meant I had to figure out what he meant on my own. I looked around. My ring was on the table next to me. My back was sore. My back was bandaged, in fact.

I drew out my wings and figured what was wrong quite instantly. I only had one of them. I felt the stump that was left of my left wing.

"Why the fuck do I have one wing." I asked. I was pretty calm about it, but I was screaming internally. How could I have one wing? Shouldn't it have just reformed out of my Grace again? It's not like wings were technically tangible objects. I couldn't just lose one.

"We thought it'd be a good sport. In order shame the angel who had come here pretending to be fallen, we'd forcibly remove his Grace and make him fallen. It turned into a messy one pretty quick, and we decided enough was enough and quit after one wing. Sorry."

I exhaled in such a large breath that my lungs hurt. "This isn't good." If anything, it was very weird.

"It turns out cutting a wing off is pretty hard. You were bleeding pretty badly from the base of your back, but not from the wing itself. And, also, the wing sort of dissolved the moment we finished cutting it off."

"Fantastic." I was really not pleased. How much of an angel was I if I had lost this much Grace? Bitterly, I thought of the positives. This probably meant I could return to Hell. I hadn't lost all my Grace, but it was likely enough to remove my usefulness as a weapon.

To check, I put on my ring. To my surprise, I could form a blade- but it was hard to maintain, and I could really feel the lack of Grace in my veins. So there was that. I was probably still at risk for skinning when I got back to Hell, and I'd now be even weaker when it came to defending myself. Great.

I wondered if Michael could heal me again- or if not, surely the healer Raphael could.

"You're not going to stab me, right?" Conifer said, sounding shocked.

I put the blade away. "I'm going to get going. I'm still in Hell, actually, sort of. Got kicked out, and have to return to steal some kids on Michael's request."

"So you're still sitting on his lap. Like a lap dog. A loyal one."

"Yes. No offense meant to you, however. I just have a job to do, and have a passion for order following. If I come here again, please don't cut off my other wing."

"Of course." He smiled sweetly. "I'll lead you out."