The Morningstar Brigade

Chapter 27

XXVII

ELI

Before the Entry into Purgatory

The Fallen Chapel, Earth

Eli sat against the crumbling remains of a once-mighty pillar, his arms bound back in unforgiving chains wrapped around the curling bands of sculpted ivy chiseled into the exterior. The chipped metal of his bonds rubbed raw against his skin with the slightest movement, leaving his wrists pink as the skin was whittled away in meaningless resistance to its constraints. On the remnants of the dome high above his head was painted the somber image of a six-winged witness to his pain, an eye delicately placed on each shock of feathers so as to not leave a single corner of the world unseen. And yet, even with these six eyes resting upon its instruments of flight, the being's eyes and mouth had both been worn away with time into nothing more than a blur of muted gold flakes. The Fisher extended his legs as far as he could so that they might catch the thin drops of moonlight that trickled through the craggy ceiling of the forgotten temple he had been imprisoned within. The creamy, silver light had not the slightest bit of warmth to offer, but somehow its mere presence on his skin felt calming. Even now, even in these dire circumstances, the moonlight was a kind of comfort. A piece of a home Eli had never known, at last reclaimed.

The moonlight fell on one other, a lone figure towards the center of the chamber's ruins. Faust sat on the edge of a rotting pew amidst rubble and scraps of once rich fabrics that had now lost any meaning. He stared intently ahead, his gaze fixed upon a small, burning black tear in reality that offered a fleeting, incomplete window into another world. His hands quietly ran over thin lines of burned, frayed flesh from his encounter with Uriel. Marks that had stubbornly refused to heal at his accustomed rate. He scowled at the dull flecks of silver that dotted the wounds, a reminder of a power ready to challenge his own. He pressed his finger to his ear as he watched the warping images of three young not-quite Shepherds standing before a pair of burnished bronze doors that had seemingly emerged from nothingness. "Vigilant's barrier has complicated my ability to oversee your operations, imp," Faust said with a foul displeasure, growling into the rune-etched earpiece. "I expect you to maintain detailed reports of the target's progress until we can speak again more thoroughly. The task at hand requires that we grow his power till the time comes to harvest it, but this careful cultivation only succeeds if you hold up your end and maintain a regular analysis of his upper limits. I don't need to remind you that if I'm caught off guard, it's your head on the line. As much as you might admire your own talents, remember that they're a nicety, not a necessity." He stood up, leaving his decomposing perch and wiping away the imperfect portal. He began to pace. His feet wore a steady, persistent path back and forth as his hand absent-mindedly ran through his hair. His mind considered and reconsidered his stratagem. "If only one of us sees the Beast emerge, I've no reservation in making sure that it's me and not you."

A light laugh broke through the severity of the night, the mirthful crowing from the weary, chained Fisher presenting a stark contrast to the corrupted sanctuary that lay around the two men.

Faust whipped the obsidian device out from his ear and buried it in the pocket of his frayed, ash-colored suit. He turned a dark gaze toward the smiling man bound to this archaic obelisk and demanded, "Why are you laughing, Fisher?" He shook his head and stepped towards the bruised frame of the once-mighty warrior. His hand reflexively yet forcefully smoothed his jet-black hair across his brow. "I've taken you from your home, I've beaten you into submission, I've threatened you and everyone you care about. And you're laughing. Why? Are you really that callous? Don't you feel a shred of regret?"