When Angels Fall [GXG]

Chapter 12

Free-falling down nine stories, Sofiel's feelings on this are as jumbled as the chaotic mess that are her thoughts. A good part of her thinks that she has made a huge mistake – the whispers of what-ifs reeling through her head in a constant circle of doubts and insecurities.

What if she's not ready? What if her body can't handle this yet?

What if her wings don't work?

But right as she's about to hit the ground, her instincts finally kick in.

One moment she's falling, mere seconds to face planting herself into gravel, and the next – she's airborne and flying.

With the warmth of the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, for the first time in a long, long time, Sofiel feels alive.

Laughter rips through her as she tumbles and spirals through the clouds, untethered and free. Her clothes are soaked through. And even though she just had a mouthful of cloud, water and ice, it doesn't bother her one bit. She feels on top of the world, like she can do anything and everything all at once.

It's all so vaguely reminiscent of a time long ago. Of a memory so distant, as ancient as the earth that the mortals walk on. A time when humanity had only scarcely begun to take their first clumsy steps. She and Samael would use to sneak down to the lower realm to soar away in the open skies like this.

Things were easier then. Father was a lot more lenient, and the mortals – a lot more simple-minded. Samael was happier. He was always laughing. Always smiling that wide toothy grin whenever Sofiel saw him. It was a known fact that he doted on her a lot, being his 'favourite' sibling and all. He would often bring her back flowers from the mortal realm that he thought were pretty, and regale her with stories of the silly mortals and their shenanigans after an expedition.

Things had been good. It was perfect.

And then the rebellion happened.

The flowers stopped – as did his stories.

Nothing was the same again.

Wings flapping mightily behind her, Sofiel glances down to survey the panoramic landscape of the mortal realm lying beyond and beneath her bare feet. It gives her pause for a brief moment as she skids to an abrupt halt, just as an equally startling thought enters her mind.

She can fly.

Granted, she's a little rusty around the edges, but she can still fly.

She peers up. Squinting past the shimmering veil that separates the mortal plane from the immortal, she sees the barest glimmer of the Silver City looming ahead.

Her heart leaps at the sight.

So close, yet so far.

But the choice still stands.

Sofiel can fly home if she wanted to. It would be within her reach. If she pushed herself just a little bit more, maybe work her wings harder. She could do away with all the mortals and their sins, once and for all.

Let them crash and burn through their own prejudice and cruelty, and never look back. She could beg Michael to put her on the administrative front in the Silver City. She knows they're under-staffed. What with everyone crowding to take on field missions in the mortal realm lately. She won't have to deal with the mortals for at least a century or two. It'll work out.

And then, she can put this all behind her like a nightmare that never happened.

But what about Abigail?