Mhaieiyu

  Arc 3, Chapter 9

  Fall

  The shallow breaths of the armoured Celestial, who stood with bent knees and open arms to protect the demoness behind her, glared at Corvus through the sockets of her helmet. Her wings were drawn, erupting from her back, which had lost its tough plates to a skirmish unknown to the Sword. What he noticed about them were their shortness. A Hawk by standard wore wings that could scale its user from head to toe, yet hers had been thinned down considerably. The roots were as big as his were, but all the primaries, and the flesh beneath, had been lost; effectively halving them. She wasn’t born this way. Her wings had most definitely been worn away by something.

  This brief analysis made Corvus buckle only slightly. His steel sword, a simple replacement gathered from the barracks, still glinted with intent.

  The shuddering breaths that escaped Myldew’s vents ceased when she swallowed, beginning to speak. “How did you find me? Why have you come this far just to sniff me out?”

  “Your signal hasn’t dissipated yet,” Corvus explained, taking a step forward that would inevitably tense the traitor.

  “But the fog…!”

  “You underestimated Thaumiel’s abilities. That was your last mistake.” His iron-willed stare drifted toward the smaller woman Myldew was trying to protect. “Your spittable actions were never clear to me, but now I see why you do as you’ve done. A Demon. Of all things to give effort to.”

  Eclipse watched in awe this man she swore not to have known earlier carry out his wickedness. He taunted the two with the sharpness of the tool, turning it slowly to give show to its fine edge. His heartless words were white pokers, singing his loathing victims and warranting a response. Eclipse’s claws were drawn, but she felt conflicted on who to point them towards.

  “Corvus, please, she’s young at mind. She hasn’t learned what we have,” Myldew tried to reason, though she became more convinced at how one-sided this conversation really was. “We can develop something good of her——”

  “Deceit is so loathsome, as is hypocrisy. Qualifiable Sins,” Corvus refused her, ignoring her pleas. “Step aside. I can make her end a painless one.”

  “Victus above…” Myldew whispered, touching an iron-gloved hand against the Demon's shoulder. “You have the same look in your eyes. I see the King in both of you.”

  The Sword’s balance was nearly broken. “You’ve seen her——?”

  And in that fragile instant, Myldew drew a shortsword from her waist and swung it toward Corvus’ leg. He attempted a backstep, but had his knee cut. Eclipse shot forth, sticking out her two claws and locking the Celestial’s sword still, but was surprised at her strength and versatility. With an expert roll and twist, Myldew unhooked and slashed back at the exile, knocking her back and inches away from a jagged jade. Eclipse was a maiden bred by instincts. She ducked and swung her head away to disperse the momentum.

  The halberdier would not give in. A fierce counter-clatter from Corvus ground her metal boots against the jewels, but the tank sustained her foothold. In this pitiable space, Myldew's halberd was useless. She would have to make do. Swivelling her attention to the Sword, she insisted on brute tactics. With her blade, Corvus' sword was forced away from the gaps in her armour, but she would still be struck. Myldew bore the clammer and pushed back, her heft overwhelming the swordsman’s advance. Sacrificing preservation, Myldew waited for a good parry to thrust her entire self upon him, grabbing his shoulders to keep him from sidestepping. Together, she rammed against the jagged wall, for which Corvus gasped; a number of jades falling around them. His thin scale vest didn’t stop his back from being cut into. The Sword grit his teeth and stared back at his fellow angel. The pinpricks in his eyes swore an oath against Myldew. Regardless of his intent, his arms were locked by his sides and his back would suffer only more as the woman squeezed him against the rocks.

  Eclipse would put an end to that. She had no battles to pick with the women in this cave, and no understanding of why Corvus did as he had; less so was her knowledge of Demons as a whole and their less-than-amicable reputation among Celestialkind — no answers would come from mutually assured destruction. She found herself behind Myldew soon enough, taking her underarms and digging her foot against a stalactite’s smooth edge. With her and Corvus’ combined strength, she peeled the two apart and stood between them. She’d wanted the conversation to continue, but there wasn’t enough time to say a word before a flurry of wind blasted violently against the spot Corvus had been pressed against. Eclipse was only halfway out of range and had her left midsection mashed against spikes, which caved and exploded as quick as the wind had come. So strong were those jets that the entire wall gave way to a deep, narrow ravine whose bottom was only vaguely understood from the shimmer of the fallen jewels.

  Eclipse unstuck herself from the glassy knives cautiously before surveying the scene. As soon as her eyes caught up, she saw the demoness’ blur of a body zoom through the new opening, to the fate of the hard floor below.

  Corvus and Myldew had re-engaged in the meantime. An emotional scream from the woman diminished Eclipse’s hopes. The two were caught in a battle of fire and ice; her fury and his law. Cold were his desires, too. A task-oriented mechanism driven by duty. Myldew just wanted to keep a life from extinguishing, and poorly was she matched.

  “Why are you here?!” the traitor, an exile much like Eclipse, begged and demanded at once.

  “To give justice to our fallen,” Corvus sharply replied, a guttural hint in his tone. Pressing the edge of his sword against hers, powering back against her, he asked, “Where is Famine?”

  “F… Famine…?” Myldew struggled out an answer, not expecting to be questioned about the lowliest Harbinger. Of all the Crimsoneers, and with such a long history with Conquest, why was the novice so important?

  “Where is he?!” Corvus shouted, more desperate, and pushed her down.

  Mydew smashed her helmet on rocks that knocked it off, exposing her warred face and opaque left eye. Her aquamarine middle-length hair barely cupped her neck, and looked haphazardly cut. Likely improvised. Corvus recognised her, of course. It’s not as if the name didn’t give her away. He had trained with her many years ago, during their infancy. She was a stray from the beginning — always the black sheep, but she wasn’t mean-spirited. So he had thought once. Corvus was now convinced she belonged in Hell for what she helped do. That brief nostalgic hit did nothing to quell Corvus’ anger. He stood atop her, and pressed the edge against the gap in her neck before she could recover from her head injury.

  “I will spare you no more patience,” Corvus haughtily said, his eyes narrow and their fire poisoned with hate. The sword’s tip dug into her soft tissue. “Famine’s whereabouts.”

  Myldew could feel pressure on her windpipe. If he cut into it, she might not be able to heal in time before she choked to death on her blood. “I… don’t… know…”

  “Then your use is even less.” His grip tightened. He was ready to kill her. Two leathery hands grasped his forearm and held on tenderly. Corvus shot Eclipse, the culprit, a fierce glance. “What is it?!” he hissed.

  “Calm your anger,” Eclipse said, “you won’t get answers like this. Show this woman mercy. If you do, she will tell you all she knows, I’m sure of it.” As if to reassure him, the Eclipse exchanged a confirming glance with Myldew; two exiles of different worlds.

  Corvus showed no such restraint, however. He took a deep, long breath before continuing. “You work in their midst. Be careful what information you choose to hide from me.”

  Myldew coughed, which only aggravated her growing neck wound. “They don’t… tell me… anything…”

  “You are worthless.”

  The slightest motion guaranteed that Corvus would spear her. Eclipse’s incredible reflexes swooped in to reverse his thrust, forcing the sword off of the downed woman. In an instant, Myldew collected herself, and with a mighty roar, she used what little remained of her wasted wings to charge back at Corvus. Eclipse tried in vain to intervene but was almost beheaded in the attempt, her bleeding back keeping her from moving too well.

  Corvus was well prepared. He lost his sword to parry her attack, but in doing so he managed to steal her blade off her. The two flew out the blown out hole clung to each other, and Corvus managed to wrestle her back to face the ground, which absorbed the impact of their fall. The act took the wind from her lungs and surely damaged her spine, but he’d leave her no room to recover as he began barbarically thrusting her armsword toward her neck. Each time, she’d risk losing her fingers by stopping the blade with her gauntlets, though their awkwardness only made it more of a challenge. Myldew panicked as the ceaseless jabs came closer and closer to killing her outright, and in an effort to save herself, she managed to grasp Corvus' wrist and point the blade away from her body. This left her wrist exposed, which he instantly exploited. Grabbing her arm, he used it as an anchor to twist the edge toward her hand before yanking the blade upwards, slicing halfway through her radius.

  Through her shriek of pain, the blood that spilt bore no red; white silver instead. The red were his eyes, which boiled in haste. Myldew bit her tongue to silence the scream and focused. With her one good hand, she managed to grasp the sharp steel entire, but it slowly slid through her gauntlet. Myldew wanted no part in this fight. She just wanted to tend to her ward, who had doubtless sustained injuries from the fall. The Celestial prayed her counterpart hadn’t died, and her prayers were answered when a violent draft swarmed and collected away from the two. It was strong enough to vacuum the struggling Celestials an inch towards the source. It was the demoness. With gasping breaths, a mouthful of blood and a ruined coal-feathered wing, the woman held out a rock-skinned hand and gave birth to a new jet of air. This time, the power it held could very well crash the entire cave. It would kill them, but she would have the satisfaction of avenging Myldew.

  “Don’t do it!” Myldew protested, more concerned for the Demon than herself. She turned back to Corvus, who had no other focus but for her throat. The blade inched closer, as it had a minute before. Corvus’ grunts were maddened; his bloodlust demanded to be slicked. Still, she attempted once more to plead. “Sword… Stop this…!”

  Corvus was unaffected. Steadfast. Soon, her neck would spill, and his task would be complete. Onward to the next.

  “Corvus…!” Myldew shouted, the effort of which made the sword slip through a tad. She ground her head into the rocks, if only to spare a millimetre more. “Why are you pursuing Famine…?! You should be… searching for your wife...!”

  “Stop talking, my wife is dead!” Corvus blared back, so much louder than she’d expected. Her silence was absolute if not for the creak of metal grinding together. “This is all I can do to avenge her. If it takes my arms, my blood, my bones and every ounce of my being, I’ll render this planet clean of your insipid cult.”

  “But your wife is——!”

  “Silence! She is dead. She must be. How could a Celestial spend years in the depths of the ice on her lonesome?! She must be dead. Lyth has to be dead.” He leaned forward, his reddened eyes showing a delicate glisten off the meagre light that glowed from him, droplets of saliva raining from his mouth onto her. “She has to be, because how else could it be that she would not return?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Myldew had an answer at the tip of her tongue, but her throat was beginning to press and flood. The taste of that impeccable silver fluid took precedence over anything else. She had failed to keep the slippery knife at bay. It would soon kill her, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her vision blurred. Distantly, a violent scream came.

  Consciousness would soon fade, and her sight had failed her, but she felt her heavy core thrust aside even with the weight of the armour that bound her. She rocked against the earth once or twice before coming to a stop. Somehow, in the motions, Myldew gained the strength to bring a hand to her open throat; in little time, an encouraging warmth wrapped around the delicate organ and began its slow mend. Her throat was still clogged with her lifejuice, but it fizzled into nothing within seconds of displacement. She could be saved.

  Corvus had seen something entirely different. With clenched teeth that would surely crack under the pressure, he had watched his fellow kin slowly die by his blade. But it was then, when he was to have committed the greatest sin, that he was met with the violent whirlwind that grew to his ignorance. It was a voice — a tremendously loud voice that carried with it the strength of the ocean. The sweep was magnificent this time. His whole being was wracked to the side, thrust harsh enough to subject his neck to whiplash. He met the furthest end of the ravine, cutting himself on the walls as he did. His wings had been unmistakably damaged in the process. The echoing scream of the demoness’ frustrations followed him, crashing against him just as hard as the final impact. The feeling of his collapsed lungs squeezing all the air from within shot liquid adrenaline into his system. His sword fell beside him.

  The Demoness, taking long breaths, ran to the Celestial’s side and put her hands on her neck; trying in vain to somehow keep her wounds from worsening. Myldew was just glad to still be alive and with her; a trembling hand coming to meet the frail-seeming woman’s cheek.

  All the while, Corvus reeled in his thoughts. His head had collided with the stone floor before his final sideways landing. His concussed state only amplified his confusion. Was he struck by that woman's voice? Surely, Gale would make sense, but it wasn't like a powerful breeze. It was thin, gustless — so quick. He might as well have been picked up and lobbed, but it was her voice. Was it her voice? What just happened?

  A new bang gave the female pair something new to worry themselves with when Eclipse finally dropped down to face them. She managed to land on her feet, absorbing the damage to her legs by aid of her unusual anatomy; that of a Lypin’s. Her form quickly returned to a more human one.

  Myldew struggled to stand, prepared for another spar, but the Demoness kept her from trying. Eclipse gave the two of them a disarming look, more concerned with Corvus’ condition than their being slain. She approached the male Celestial with a coldness unbefitting her norm. In her sixth sense, Eclipse could practically wade through his ill-will.

  “Have you had your fill?” she dared ask of the dropped angel.

  Corvus didn’t respond. Instead, he used his sword as a leverage to stand. He was weak, she could see it in his slump.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, but I won’t let you continue. My ignorance, I’m sure, will cost me; but as I see it now, all I’m witnessing is a man cruelly attacking women for the sake of his bloodlust. I won’t agree to it.”

  “Do not interfere with the Legion,” Corvus lowly said, too ashamed to look at her but still overboiling in anger.

  Eclipse looked dissatisfied. “You’re keen on using your creed as an excuse?”

  “They are Crimsoneers, one by blood and another, treason. It is by decree of the Skyborn Major that their existence is a threat to allkind.” The Guardian’s Sword found the strength to upright himself. “Step aside.”

  “The manner in which Myldew spoke might suggest she knows of your spouse’s whereabouts. Is that not more important to you?”

  “I haven’t the time for this.”

  Injured and wing-sprained, tired and bloodied, Corvus still had the nerve to thrust his blade toward her. Eclipse sidestepped him and threw him aground with a simple motion. “Once more, I’ll implore you to be patient.”

  “Foolhardy. Your bravery will only kill you.” The Celestial found his footing with a great many years of expertise under his belt. The feeble exile had lived a fraction of his oldest memory. With three swipes faster than she could count, Eclipse was staggered and thrown back. Her injuries were less, but still a hindrance.

  “Corvus, think carefully,” Eclipse continued to insist, not keen on drawing her claws just yet. “If you go through with this, this entire journey may have been a waste. Was she not your only lead?”

  Corvus took a deep breath. It’s as though his every thought was interrupted by a greedy impulse he had to sate. He took a step forward, and Eclipse had no choice but to show off her eight hand-knives. But then, as they would do battle, a terrible sensation overwhelmed Eclipse’s senses. Corvus noticed the Chameleon’s hesitation, stopping his downward slice halfway. Be it boldness or stupidity, she looked away from her opponent. Not towards the struggling couple, but upwards.

  Corvus exhaled a long breath. “Focus on your adversary. I don’t want to spill your blood unfairly.”

  “Forget this spat, something’s coming.”

  “Something?”

  Corvus gave careful glances toward the entrance they had fallen from, high above them. It took a while longer than her, but he did soon hear what sounded like echoing footsteps.

  “Someone’s here,” Corvus said, lowering his sword.

  Myldew grabbed the Demoness’ arm tightly, the act of which was understood as a desire to stand and guard the sinful being. She did so, taking her shortsword in her good hand’s grip and clutching it tightly. Soon, the closening taps gave all four of the warmed up cavers a most troubling sight to Myldew and her ward.

  A man in a lavish grey coat wearing a V-shaped mask made himself seen in the opening. He looked down at the four for a brief moment, analysing their characteristics and committing them to memory. The Demoness in the old hoodie seemed to catch his interest, a pleasant smile taking shape on his lips. With no concern whatsoever, he dropped down the significant distance, landing on his feet with impunity. His knees didn’t even bend, but a strange lashing of light whipped out from his shoulder like a thunderclap, and then nothing. Not a grunt. He turned to the Demoness first, spreading his arms wide like a family man returning home from a business trip, expecting his loved ones’ embrace.

  “Good heavens, thank the Lord, what a wondrous gift this is! I was so worried, so terrified that you had been hurt. Are you hurt, my dear? Oh, precious thing, how could those idiots fail to keep you safe? It worries me sick, the little they do for you.”

  With his every word, a simple motion of his hands and arms followed. He approached the cautious couple with abandon.

  “I was fortunate enough to hear a ruckus on my path. Assuming it to be a gang of ruffians, and with a plea in my heart that it might be my beloved’s location, I came to see what occurred. And look, this fortune of mine! That old troglodyte’s Foresight is indeed reliable, thankfully so——”

  Once close enough to strike, Myldew thrust her shortsword to the odd man’s heart. Surely, with this swift motion, she should kill the man dead. But the passing of her silver through fabric and flesh would not come. Not even an inch from his form, the knife’s tip collided and dragged off of thin air, impervious to her attack. The man finally stopped his ramblings, letting his hands fall neatly by his sides.

  “Ah, I failed to notice you at all,” the man said, even though Myldew stood large before the Demoness he had addressed. “It seems I forgot to dispatch the ruffians in question, didn’t I? Forgive me, I can get so distracted. Love’s tender beginnings always leave one too flustered, I dare say.”

  Myldew growled, tightening her grip on the sharp. “Stay away from her. She wants nothing to do with you, Disciple of Aquarius!”

  “Please don’t talk to me if I don’t want to hear you,” Vermillion dismissively retorted, snapping his fingers and making a shooing motion with his hand. In a brief moment, a perilous, ferocious force struck the Celestial’s chest hard enough to shatter her heavy armour’s core, and doubtless, her sternum too, smashing the angel against a wall up, over and behind the demon she protected. Whatever happened, Myldew and the Demoness were helpless to stop it.

  Corvus and Eclipse were stunned. They both lacked understanding of the power this interloper possessed, the likes of which even the angel struggled to compare. To commit an act of aggression without so much as a spark or flame felt unreal, but such was the mystery of obscurity. This could just be another spell of that odd branch of magic sponsored by God himself. Regardless of his intentions, his identity was made clear by Myldew. Even in the face of danger, Corvus took a bold step forward.

  The man knelt down to meet eyes with the Demoness, who looked frightened and conflicted between watching the man or Myldew’s weakened body as it hit the floor. With a hand on her cheek and a sickly sweet voice, he cooed, “Good Bellum of War, my wife, you’re hurt, aren’t you? Those beasts. I’m so glad I put a stop to this. I beg your pardon for not seeing to it sooner.”

  The Demoness, Bellum, wobbled and shook. One could argue she was cold, but no. A sharp breath slid through her teeth and she couldn’t bring herself to look back at the Disciple’s eyes.

  Judging by how she glanced back and forth, the bearer of Lust rubbed a finger across his lip and hummed. “I assume that one means something to you, for whatever reason. Is she the accomplice?”

  The terrified girl nodded apprehensively, still unable to look up at him.

  “Very well.” Meanwhile, the thuds of heavy footsteps caught Vermillion’s attention. The nobleman stood up and turned to face him. “It annoys me that someone else has already come to rescue you, but I’ll let it slide. Clearly, she was insufficient, anyways. These two are the scoundrels, then?”

  Bellum slowly stood with him, hiding behind the Crimsoneer. She looked at Corvus with contempt, which Vermillion noticed, but when she eyed Eclipse, a worrisome stare back instilled some amount of sympathy in her.

  Corvus paid no mind to this dialogue, but he did notice something strange. “Your voice. I’ve heard it before.”

  “I’m a novice to the cult. I think your ears are misleading you.”

  The Sword shook his head, standing at a respectable distance. His wings, damaged as they were, managed to unfurl in a full display of his greatness. “I’m confident I have. So, you’re Ysma’s replacement.”

  Vermillion clicked his tongue, hands on his hips. “Oh, ‘replacement’ is such a vile way to put it. I don’t ‘replace’ anyone. I am myself. My whole self. As there are none who could be akin to me, I am nobody’s ‘replacement’. I am me. She was she. And she’s dead now, so her incompetence speaks volumes as to how useful she was. All I’m doing is sitting in her chair.”

  “... Even the way you speak rings a bell.”

  “I don’t like to be referred to as a half-preserved memory.”

  A waste of time, the angel deduced. Corvus pointed the sword’s end his way. “Crimsoneer, by order of the Legion, you are to be put down.”

  Eclipse was rooted to the spot. Her eyes darted across the confines of this dark space, lit up just enough by precious stones and the Celestials within. She deduced by the lazy position of Corvus' sword that he was exhausted and not all in his own head. The other man, conversely, was unarmed, but wielded a spectacular sense of self; amused by his predicament, and the advance of the angel he'd never have cared about otherwise. Eclipse felt sweat bead on her skin. The desire to help engage the stranger alongside Corvus was entirely overwhelmed by a fierce unease. Her Sixth Sense blared like a fire bell, worried of that strange man's unfathomable danger.

  "Sword… Do not…" a tiny voice implored. A dragged, hoarse voice. It was the other angel.

  Vermillion briefly looked back at the defeated Hawk and pursed his lips, an instantaneous desire to squash her head nearly fulfilled as a childish whim if not for a sudden realisation. The word 'Sword' struck a chord.

  "Wait," Vermillion ordered, confusing Corvus' approach. He exchanged glances with the stunned angel for a moment, before a gorgeous smile took form on his face. "Sword? Sword?! That title — the one that brat spoke of just a few days ago!"

  Corvus had continued his march after a few seconds, but stopped again. "Be quiet. You're making no sense."

  "That woman on the shore; the Victus-whored one. She spoke fiercely to me that I wouldn't get to see you before killing me, only to die miserably in front of me." He clasped his hands together excitedly, his smile turning to one of a laughing banter. "Well, how utterly boastful of her, and yet!" he guffawed, "here you are, and she couldn't do a fucking thing about it! Your kind is as useless as a damp garb!"

  The Sword had chosen to ignore the man's words for as long as he did, but somehow, in his haemorrhaging lack of thoughts, the incessant laughter of that one man began to set off a new feeling of anger within him. This woman. He spoke of some woman. A woman he was obviously involved with. A woman that tried to protect him. A woman…

  Who is dead now.

  Corvus lifted his head and stared, mouth agape, at Lust.

  Eclipse watched the scene in terrified interest as her Sixth Sense screamed at her. This was a power beyond reckoning. A divinity, almost. She involuntarily stepped forward, and that step became a walk, and that walk became a panicked run. She sprung to Corvus' side, grabbing his shoulder. He nearly killed her, but she hugged his waist and pushed him back an inch. A protective instinct overthrown by a powerful body. If this were Ezequiel she held, she'd have picked him up entire and leapt out the cave. But it was that frigidness in his blood; his warm blood, his always warm blood, was now cold to the touch, like the wind that battered them on their way here. The look on his face spelled it out for her, and so she backed away.

  Eclipse’s panic.

  Myldew’s suffering.

  The Demoness’ worry.

  Vermillion’s amusement.

  Corvus swallowed. He saw murder. The words that came from the Crimsoneer’s mouth sparked a cataclysm in the Celestial’s soul; the last rattle to send him past the edge.

  “For it was I, wasn’t I, who deplumed her!”