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Fear that Medrion knew he needed Micah to get in.
Fear that he was on his way here, right now, with more angels at his back than we would be able to fight off.
We didn’t have weeks to figure this out—we had days.
Maybe less.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SARAKIEL
Sunset was beautiful in Helena. The shifting of light across the sky from orange to purple, to blue… there was nothing like it. Literally, nothing like it. My eyes were cast to the west, where there was little else but open ocean for days. Calm. Peaceful. Serene. Behind me, to the east, there were wretched things and murderers—and they were on their way here.
Soon, there would be no peace here. No serenity. No calm. Right now, Helena and Micah were healing as many of the Tyrant’s wounded angels as they could. The Tyrant, meanwhile, was talking to Azrael to learn of the Bastion’s defensive capabilities. I couldn’t hear their conversation but judging by their body language alone I could tell he was not impressed, and she wasn’t interested in entertaining his opinion.
I had to believe there was something we could do to stop him from steamrolling through this place. This was a Bastion, after all, not a hovel. Then again, Medrion had torn through the Ebon Legion’s stronghold and only a few of them had managed to escape. What if it really was hopeless?
Maybe Kalmiya was right, and we should all be getting ready to soar off into that setting sun and keep Micah as far away from Medrion as possible.
If he doesn’t get to Micah today, he will find another cherub eventually.
Fleeing now just meant kicking the can down the road and risking Medrion making his way into Heaven without us knowing about it. We had to make our stand here, and now, no matter how terrifying that prospect was.
And then there was the prospect that I had to somehow get into Heaven, find Lucifer, and free him so that he could restart the Sacred Machinery and take us all home. I couldn’t understand why I felt so sure about this, or why I even believed that Lucifer would altruistically restart Heaven. More concerning though was Medrion’s intentions; I did not imagine that they were good ones.
Maybe there was more going on here than I realized.
Dark, leather wings carried the Tyrant’s substantial form up to the corner tower I was surveying the world from. He landed gracefully, though, barely making a sound and kicking up only the slightest breeze to tug at my pink hair. I turned to look at him, and saw the ominous, churning clouds at his back; a thick, grey mantle that choked the shadowy horizon.
“These people aren’t as hopeless as I thought they were,” he said, as he walked up beside me.
“Though, still not quite to your standards, I take it?” I asked.
“No.”
I watched the approaching storm for a moment longer before turning around to look at the setting sun. Resting my forearms on the tower wall, I leaned over it just enough to feel the sea breeze on my cheeks. “I still can’t believe this is all happening,” I said. “That we fell, that Heaven is as dead as God.”
“I have had many years to ponder this same thought,” he said.
“I keep forgetting about that. To me, it’s only been a few weeks.”
“I am glad you did not have to experience those first few weeks and months.”
I looked down at the dark purple skin that ran along my fingertips. “I got a taste.”
“Consider yourself lucky it was only a taste.”
I looked over at him, at his form, at his demeanor. He was… well, beautiful, in many ways. But there was a lethality to his beauty, and an unmissable tragedy. His horns protruded from his forehead and curved gracefully over his jet-black hair. His wings, instead of feathery like mine, were bat-like and scaly. Many marks and scars ran along his body, some more overt than others.
He had sinned.
A lot.
“I’m… sorry,” I said.
“Sorry?” he frowned.
I shook my head. “I think I’ve been too harsh on you. I keep forgetting we aren’t… well, we aren’t who we were anymore. Heaven was a moment ago for me, but for you it must seem like an entirely different lifetime. Heaven’s morals just don’t work in this world, and I admit I freaked out after the fight with Medrion, and the Wretched. I shouldn’t have fled.”
