Fallen

Chapter One

Chapter One

Ariel

"You are no longer an angel. Your actions tonight have stripped you of that right. And so we will now strip you of your wings."

Those were the dreaded words, the ones that had sealed her fate.

"You are now, one of the fallen."

That line, that one simple and yet devastating line kept repeating itself over and over in her head. It had started as a loud, pounding, reiterating shout to her mind, but now it was a whisper. As if even her own conscience wouldn't let her forget it. Just when it was quiet, that horrible whisper of a voice reminded her. It was a tortuous cycle that didn't end.

She hadn't moved since they had left her here. She just laid there, staring in the direction of her wings that were left laying just a few feet away from her. Her eyes had long since lost focus. And now she just stared into space.

She had no care about anything at all. It didn't matter that she was laying in her own blood. It didn't matter that her blood flow hadn't stopped. It didn't matter, that she could very well be dying, she was, she could feel it. Her life force slowly slipping away. But nothing mattered anymore. She just wanted it all to end. This was all a nightmare. And all she wanted to do was disappear from it and to reappear in a happier world. One where she still had her wings, one where she wasn't a fallen. But that wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. This was her fate, no matter how unfair and unjust it was.

As she was mercifully drifting into a sea of nothingness, the sound of feet moving along the forest floor reached her. She didn't know if they were heading in her direction or not, and she couldn't bring herself to care either way.

***

Raziel

There was something drawing him, pulling him in. He had been walking aimlessly. Enjoying the sounds of the nightlife of the forest that surrounded him, as he often did, when his feet had started to move of their own accord. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to get there. Wherever it was. And quick. He didn't know how many miles he walked, it felt like several but in reality was only a couple. Time was dragging. His anticipation to reach the intended destination was on an extreme level. What could it be? He tried to reach out with his sense and find out what was on the other end of the invisible string that was pulling on him, but he couldn't get an accurate read on it. All he got was a sense of urgency. A sense that his life somehow depended on reaching whatever the strange source of energy was. As he further observed the pulling force, he noticed that it appeared to be a plea of sorts. It was like something or someone was silently calling out to him, to his being, begging for his presence. Begging.

He didn't understand.

What in this realm, or any other realm for that matter, could do this to him? He had never felt anything like this before. Yes, he had always been able to know things that others could not. Hidden things, things that people didn't want others to know. He had even connected with other beings, many times before. It had been a requirement. But this was different. This thing had taken hold of him, nothing had ever been able to do that before. He was too strong and guarded to allow it. But this, whatever this was, had found his soul, made contact and held on. It held on and pulled. He was powerless to resist it. After the first few times, he stopped trying to resist and simply followed the string. Whatever was pulling on him would soon find out that it had messed with the wrong being. It would soon regret this.

After a few more minutes of walking, he came upon a clearing. In the clearing was what appeared to be a small graveyard of sorts. It seemed to be an ancient one that was used by a poor family who couldn't afford proper tombstones. The tombstones were simply stones with the names of the deceased carved crudely onto the faces of the rocks. That was all that marked the placing of the dead. It was an eerie place. A place that seemed to whisper. The dead souls whispered, crying out at the injustice. The injustice of their deaths. At the wrongs committed upon them.

But the ghostly atmosphere of the graveyard wasn't what snatched his attention. Oh no. That wasn't it.

It was the body.

As he crossed the length of the graveyard to where the body lay, he caught the scent of blood. The body was surrounded by it. And then, he saw them. Wings. They were beautiful things, with luscious white feathers that appeared soft. But the problem that he analyzed, was that they weren't connected to the body. They were laying a few feet from the body. One of the arms was pointed in the direction of them as if it had been reaching for it's missing piece. The white of the wings were stained with dirt from being thrown on the ground as well as blood. One of them appeared to be snapped in half. Whether that was done before or after they were removed from the body, he couldn't know. He circled the body until he reached the front of it. Or rather the front of her, it was a female. Her white dress had been ripped all the way down to the small of her back and through the gap in the cloth, he saw the twin wounds. They were quite graphic, blood was still seeping out in a slow yet steady stream. Her wings had been ripped out viciously leaving gaping holes where they had previously made their home between her shoulder blades.

This body was clearly what had been pulling him. But why? How? He crouched down next to her with the intention of seeing if there was any life left in her. He reached his hand toward her face, intent on moving the hair out of her face and neck. He had to see if she was breathing, if she had a pulse. As soon as his hand made contact with her, a sharp jolt hit him. It seemed to travel through his bloodstream, starting at his fingertips it made its way through his veins rushing like electricity, consuming him. When it reached his center, his soul, it seemed to make home there.

He quickly shook off the paralysis that had overcome him and reached once again toward her face. And there was no jolt this time, although there was a slight tingle and the feeling in his center didn't leave. But he continued on with his previous intention. Her hair was like black silk on his skin as he gently swept it out of her face. If it wasn't for the current situation, he would have savored the feel of it against his fingertips. In contrast to her dark hair, her skin was as pale as moonlight. Most likely that was caused by her considerable blood loss as well as the traumatic pain she had suffered. She was almost delicate looking with her face relaxed in the blissful escape of sleep. When his two fingers made contact with her pulse, he breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive. Barely hanging on, but she was still there.

He quickly rid himself of his shirt and pressed it to her back. It wasn't much but it would have to do until he could get her somewhere else where he could properly seal and bandage her gaping wounds. He gently lifted her into his arms, being extremely careful with her back. He didn't want to aggravate the wounds anymore than they already were. He turned in the direction from which he had come and began to walk.