Garder mon Ame

Chapter Twenty-Four: More to Life and Death

The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the heart of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.

~William Shakespeare

The blinding light gave way to the pouring rain. Cyra no longer hurt, and the water hardly seemed to seep through his skin. He had found himself right by the dumpster, Emery and Grim fighting in front of him, Maria huddling dead-eyed in a corner. Cyra whispered to himself,

"But those who wait for the Lord

will renew their strength.

They will mount up

with wings like eagles.

They will run, and not be weary.

They will walk, and not faint."

Hearing the prayer, Maria turned her head and she broke out into a beam. She leaped to her feet and opened her mouth to speak, but Cyra put a finger to his lips. Hush now. The final moments would end in quietness.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:

"As ye deal with my contenders, so with you my grace shall deal";

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on.

Cyra felt the strength of his comrades and the slight exasperation of his sister. He hummed. Glory, glory Hallelujah!

"Grim!" What made him call out with powerful lungs, he did not know. An outspoken Guardian? A little girl who believed she could fly?

Grim just barely glanced at Cyra before crying out, "No! It's not possible!"

He took another swipe at Emery, and Cyra noticed that the Warrior was bleeding profusely and beginning to slow. With that last attack, he keeled over, dying in a pool of crimson. His very essence began to flicker, like a faulty light switch, and Grim hovered over him for the kill.

Cyra swept forward. It was Didier that landed the first attack and pushed Grim back. It was that Warrior that caused fear to leap into Grim's blue eyes as blood began to pour from numerous slashes. Michael parried Grim's advances, and Leila blocked and dodged. Each Guardian brought their own specialties, and Grim struggled to fend off the assortment of fighting styles. Calandra steadied his hand and nodded acceptance as Cyra delivered a final blow.

Grim crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily. He tried to stand up, but Cyra pushed him to the ground again. And so there he lay, staring up with Cyra with utter hatred sparking in his blue stare.

"What are you waiting for, Guardian?" Grim taunted, spitting out blood. "Emery could not wait to drive his halo into my skull. But you are just insulting me."

"That is not my intention, Grim," Cyra said. He pointed his halo at the Reaper, and Death laughed a crazed melody.

"Who would have thought," Grim said, "that such a righteous soul would be the one to hold my life in his hands? Such a novel Guardian? It's pathetic. I can't stand it. Get this over with so I can go about my torment without such hesitation."