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CHAPTER ONE
SARAKIEL
Rage could nly get me so far, but my wings were weak. I had been flying for what felt like days, putting as much distance between Meridian and myself as I could. Behind me, where the sky met the water, there were monsters, and Tyrants, and far too much pain for any being to face at once.
It had broken me. Something inside me had finally snapped, and after the brief moment of euphoria I had experienced upon first breaching the thick, grey mantle of clouds that clung to the Earth… had come the anger, and then, the rage.
The Archangel Medrion, architect of the pain that wracked me, had escaped my vengeance. I’d had him—for a second, I’d had him—but I’d hesitated. My heart, and what foolish goodness existed inside of me, had stayed my hand, preventing me from delivering the killing blow and soothing the nightmarish memories I carried with me. Memories of the time I spentin his care.
He was long gone now, and I had no way of tracing him. No way of knowing what rock he had decided to hide under to lick his wounds. What remained of Meridian in the wake of the Wretched’s attack, I didn’t know. All those angels, so many ofthem now dead, consumed for their Light by creatures who had none of their own but craved it above all else.
I felt for them.
Medrion was good at putting on a strong face—the face of a savior. Their only crime was believing he was exactly that, and not knowing the truth of him; not seeing the rot festering just underneath the mask. They had died blind and screaming… that was no way for an angel to go.
Then there washim.
The Tyrant.
Another I had left behind another I would rather forget. When I thought about him—and I tried not to—all I found was confusion, and in that confusion…rage. He had found me, after I had fallen. He scooped me up, pulled me away from the Wretched barreling down on me, and brought me to his Bastion where I would be safe.
Safe from it, at least.
The angels under the Tyrant’s command hadn’t seen a woman in so long, they’d thought I was fair game. Some paid a hefty price for trying to take advantage of me—paid in pain. That, I’d thought, had been the Tyrant’s way of marking me. Of making sure everyone around him knew that I was under his protection.
That I was…his… as much as I could be, anyway.
I can’t say I hadn’t grown fond of him during our time together. He was cold, and cruel, and possessive. He wore the marks of the sinner—dark horns and bat-like wings—like badges of honor. But underneath all that was an angel, a once radiant being of the purest Light. Falling from Heaven had changed him. This world had changed him. That didn’t mean there wasn’t good left in him.
I had fallen for it.
Hook, line, and sinker.
I had gotten too close to him… almost intimately close. Whenever we were near each other, Lust lurked, invisible, and hungry. For a while, I had wanted to give in, to find out how it felt to give into temptation and lose myself in Lust’s powerful current. Now, I was glad I hadn’t, because when I thought of him, I couldn’t keep myself from seeingher.
Kalmiya.
Medrion had captured her during a raid on one of the Tyrant’s convoys. I, more than anyone, knew what that meant, and what Medrion was capable of subjecting her to; especially now that all of God’s angels had Fallen and become partly mortal.
But when we freed her, and I saw her with the Tyrant… when I saw the way he looked at her, and cared for her, and demanded that I heal her, it had brought upbile. Bile because he hadn’t spared a second to check whether I was okay. Bile because he hadn’t questioned Aithen’s absence; Aithen who had died in such a brutal manner, his skull caved in and crushed under Medrion’s foot. Bile because Medrion had told me Kalmiya and the Tyrant were lovers… and I hadn’t believed his words.
That was where rage lived.
There, in the look the Tyrant gave me, the concern for her in his eyes. Had he just used me to get her back? Had he pushed me into Medrion’s jaws as a distraction, for the sole purpose of extracting his lover? What did that make me to him?
Disposable. Just like Aithen, and just like everyone else.
There was a reason they called him the Tyrant, a manner in which he had gained his namesake. I was glad I had left him behind; him and all the rest of them. All of them except Aithen.Poor Aithen.He was the only angel who showed me any true compassion, or kindness. He wanted nothing from anyone; he only wanted to make the best of the lot he had been given.
Though Medrion was gone, I had not given up on vengeance. I would find him, one day, and I would make him pay for what he did to me, what he did to Gadriel, and what he did to Aithen. And as for the Tyrant? He had also made my list.
I had been soaring over water for some time, ruminating over the events of the past few weeks. I wasn’t sure when exactly I’d left solid ground behind, but I knew I had to keep flying. I had to find Helena, another Bastion of angels, another home for the Fallen. I didn’t know what it looked like, or where exactly it was, I only had a general direction to fly toward.
But flying was no longer an option; or, at least, it would stop being an option soon. All around me there was only water. Water and clouds, as far as the eye could see. Already I was feeling the effects of dehydration, hunger, and extreme fatigue. I hadn’t slept in days, or eaten, or even had a sip of water despite how much of it there was around me. I knew well enough not to drink salt water though, that it would only make things worse.
The question I was faced with now was simple;do I keep going, or do I turn around?
Going back to find sustenance would make finding Helena even harder. I hadn’t steered off course since I got into the air, but I knew if I turned around, I would inevitably get lost. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to push on.
