Gabryle paced. With each step, his already balled up fists tightened further; pale blue veins showing beneath taut porcelain skin. His naturally large doe eyes narrowed to hardened lines that looked too mature against his childlike features. Wings of pure white laced with gold folded around his thin body, glowing softly with an inner light. A presence from the doorway stopped Gabryle in his tracks and without relaxing his stance, he turned to face the newcomers as they filed in to the room.
“We can’t just leave them to fight for themselves! We made an oath to protect them and what? We are going to turn our backs now that it is becoming tough?” Gabryle spat the words; flinging them away from him with so much strength and venom that it surprised even himself. They were still as serene as ever, but Gabryle could sense the wave of shock that rippled through each of the five Elder Angels, who had gathered once more to hear his plea.
His audience remained silent with identical pitying smiles on their simultaneously ancient and youthful faces. A flash of heat washed through Gabryle's body, concentrating with increasing intensity behind his childlike features. Gabryle felt as though his usually tranquil green eyes, that were flecked with the same gold as his wings; had now become a violent sea of fire. If the Elders noticed, they made no comment, but rather turned one by one and filed from the room until Gabryle was left with the last and most familiar of the Elders.
His father placed a warm hand on Gabryle's spiked cherry red hair, that fizzed with the static of his emotions. Then in an almost cold gesture he walked out silently, leaving his son alone in the watchtower room he had been frequenting since the first attacks began. Gabryle took a deep, calming breath, regretting it instantly as he unwillingly inhaled a layer of dust that had not yet been disturbed by his increasingly frequent visits.
Coughing and with an irritating sting behind his eyes, Gabryle was immensely thankful the Elders had already left as the dust could not be to blame for the tears that now began to flow freely down his silky cheeks or for the knot that hardened his throat. With a furious swipe at his eyes, Gabryle cleared the tell-tale tears and strode to the bay windows that overlooked the world of Mare. He had always loved Mare, with its flowery meadows and towns of beautiful architecture. There were mountains that reached far towards the heavens and beaches with bright blue waves lapping at their golden shores. The only blight on this otherwise perfect world was the demonic town of Malice, but this had been easy to ignore as the citizens followed the Mayor’s laws and there was never any real wrong doing. An Angel constructed world of harmony.
That is until the demon, Kore, became powerful. He fought his way through the ranks of demons to come out on top and began attacking other towns with unparalleled fury. Gabryle had watched helplessly as Kore had gathered an army around himself, the Nightmare Marauders, and in what seemed like just hours a multitude of citizens became victims of Kore’s violence. The meeting with the Elders had been his last attempt at gaining permission to fight. Gabryle’s thoughts were interrupted by the sharp screech of swords hitting armour and the sickly cries of war and death radiating from the world below.
Gabryle threw himself as close to the window as he could and focused his attention on Mare. As he focused with pinpoint accuracy on the scene below, he could see clearly what was happening. The Nightmare Marauders had arrived in the Mayoral town of Callad. The Mayor’s army were fighting but the Marauders had already reached the courtyard. If the Mayor was killed, what would happen to the people?
Without stopping to consider the consequences of his actions, Gabryle disappeared from the safe haven of his watchtower and reappeared in the midst of the war. He spun on the spot, grimacing at the destruction around him. His eyes met the wide eyes of the Mayor, just as he fell with a sword embedded through his chest plate and in to the fragile, human body beneath it. Gabryle couldn’t understand why the courtyard was still full of the continuing sounds of war. The Mayor was dying. Shouldn’t the war be over? Gabryle fell to his knees and put his youthful and healing hands on the Mayor’s chest but was too late. With a final breath and a shudder, the Mayor was still.
“No!” Gabryle screamed, his voice shaking with the untapped power of his angel blood. His sword burnt the skin of his hand as he carved his way through the Nightmare Marauders, seeking swift vengeance. The Mayor’s warriors had sprinted away in horror at the red fury radiating from him but that had no meaning to Gabryle. All that mattered now was avenging the death of the innocent.
Finally Gabryle’s sword tore through the gut of the last Marauder. Staring the beast in the eyes, Gabryle kicked him backwards so he fell from the blade on to the blood stained earth below. The body had just hit the ground when Gabryle was overcome by a wave of tiredness that surged through his being, forcing the sword from his hand and encouraging him to slide to the ground beside the Mayor. Lowering his head to his hands, Gabryle shuddered with deep heaving sobs. He should have done more. If he had, maybe the Mayor would still be here.
A blinding flash of lightning shot through the ravished battle ground as Kore appeared, flinging a dagger with strange markings littering the hilt at the unprotected angel. Gabryle was reaching for his sword, his angel reflexes faster than that of a human, but even as his hand closed around his familiar weapon, the dagger bit in to his flesh and ropes of lightning twisted themselves around his body. The more he struggled, the more the ropes tightened around his frame, forcing the air from his lungs until each breath hurt. Kore smiled for the first time in as long as he could remember.
Kore took blood from the bound angel, injecting it in to an infant demon that had been taken from his mother just hours after his birth. For days Kore bled the angel and fed the blood to the little demon child. The infant accepted the blood greedily and with it began to change. Power radiated from the infant and when he screamed, buildings shook. Within weeks he was as powerful as any adult demon. Kore watched and documented the growth carefully scrutinizing his findings in case there was any chance the infant would reject his demon heritage.
Kore need not have worried. As the demon grew he became viscous with wild fury that required Kore to take charge of the creature. Naming him Web, Kore began applying all the knowledge of the demon world to the youngster and when he reached adulthood, Kore knew he was ready. Taking him to the nearby town of Nomarr, Kore watched with delight as his creation, the ultimate demon; destroyed the town in mere minutes without the slightest hesitation or even questioning why.
The world of Mare would never be the same.
