Paradise End

3 - Past

            As the storm became fiercer overhead, there was a knock at the door. Chains rattled the chamber as a prisoner, locked in place by brick, lifted his chin to the fiery sliver of light opening into the darkness. In the gap between the door where the light flooded in a man stepped forward, his winged silhouette filling the prisoner's vision. "This is where we've been keeping him,"

Two more figures with similar wing-adorned silhouettes filed in behind. Then another, and another, and another, until a whole team lined the edges of the wall opposite to the half-naked creature, each surveying the ties that held him down.

"So that's... really him?" someone uttered.

"Yes, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you."

"It can't be... he can't be real."

"Sure is – we've used every method we could think of to check. He's real alright. Despite what you see this creature has the same spiritual energy as you and I." The storm rumbled overhead faintly in the night, murmurs and whispers of shock filling the hollow room. The creature growing smaller with each snap and crack from the torchlights in the hall. The air struck his bare arms and legs in frosted waves, his midnight hair trailing down in front of his face.

With each dissecting stare, each tide of hardened faces, the winged horned beast shifted in his restraints.

"Yes, my gentcheurs, this one here is indeed a cherubim."

As another cold draft swept through the room, an angel, low on the floor held back by chains, looked up to the group of decadent cherubs. As he stole another glance through the connected crowd, he studied each of their colors, the way their wings shined in the ethereal candlelight behind them. His vision crossed another pair of eyes, meeting briefly in the dim dark shadows of the tomb. They were different from the others, he noticed, strange. Green, watchful, but most of all... absent of judgement. Where the others stared with fire, this face looked at him with something close to shame. He looked away.

The restraints clinked as he shifted, pushing himself up from the ground. The weight of the cold metal wrapping around the top of his radium and wrist bone of large wings folded behind his shoulders clashed and pulled down on his lithe form. Yet, he still rose. Lifting himself up weakly to meet their gazes in the flickering low light. Studying the curves and corners of their armor, the harshness of their piercing gazes, their alluring features.

Another wave of murmurs passed over the drafty shadow-tinted room. "It's ridiculous," one of them said, turning to the gatekeeper. "There's no such thing as a cherub with those..." the angel speaking dissected the prisoner with his eyes, "those things."

"Aye, I cannot say I've ever 'eard of one."

"I second that."

"Agreed."

The gatekeeper held his chin high, "If you don't believe, go and see for yourself. My team and I have already performed a series of tests to ensure he wasn't an imposter in disguise. Each one came back to the same exact conclusion no matter how many methods we tried; in all ways except what you see, he is, in essence, scientifically, and fundamentally, one of us." The gatekeeper turned back to the prisoner, "And I can assure you, we were very thorough."

The silent prisoner stared blankly in return, fire pricking all across his back.

"Is it possible he's fallen? Did he belong to us, another sect, or just something happened we don't know about?"

The gatekeeper shrugged, "Beats our team—no matter what we tried, nothing seemed to get him to talk. And believe me, we've tried every method we could think of. Yet he refuses to tell us anything at all about where he came from." A ripple of silence echoed among them. "As for if he used to belong to another sect, I've already tried verifying with sources and no one seemed to remember his face. This cherub, this... one. No one knows about him. No one has heard about him. Not until now."

The objector stepped closer, reaching out to the prisoner's right wing. Seeing his interest, the chained being did his best to extend his wing to the angel, face grim and void. Calloused fingertips, stained by the breath of war and weaponry, brushed the surface of the bat wing. He flinched.

His own eyes traced the shimmer on the cherub's silk like silver and gray feathers. A hand reached out to touch them, soft cracks of the fire in the hall outside fading in his ears.

Thwap.

Stinging sharp pain split across his cheek, preceded by a quick strike to his hand. He recoiled, needles spreading underneath his face. "Don't touch me," the objector seethed. "Demon."

A quick jab came up to blow the ribs in his torso with the cap of the counters knee. A gasp circulated the gathered cherubs—to the amazement of the witnesses, the demon-like cherub had managed to stop the objectors blow with the block of his elbow. Giving him ample opportunity to strike back.

A terse hush befell the room as instead, he only stared.

"Oh yes, there is that as well – we've noticed for most of the tests we were able to perform them with little to no consequences. However, we noticed a few times, the subject has an inordinate amount of strength. But we rarely ever witnessed him using it."

The objecting cherub gritted his teeth. "As I thought, daemon." he spat. "So you wanna play huh, is that it? Got ourselves a fighter here?" silence. "He should've gone for me when he had the chance; then everybody would be able to see him for what he is." One of the cherub's fists knocked the horned angel in the stomach. The prisoner grunted, his chains rattling to the floor.

Another thud echoed through the room. "Stop." Someone said by the wall, albeit quietly amongst the whispers.

Thunk. Murmur. Crackle.

"Stop."

Thud. Snap. Clink.

"Stop!"