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“Why?” asked Helena. “After everything I’ve done…”
“Anyone but him.”
“You are making a mistake,” said Medrion.
“We’ll see,” I said, “But we’re not surrendering to you.”
Medrion lowered his head in a slight bow. “Very well,” he said, “Let’s begin.”
“Go!” I shouted at Helena. I didn’t know how long I would be able to hold him off, but it only had to be long enough for them to finish the ritual. I had to hope that Medrion’s insane words had encouraged Helena to action, and that she wasn’t going to just flee.
Medrion advanced, his armored boots thudding heavily against the metallic floor underneath our feet. I readied myself, tucking my wings instinctively behind my back to protect them, and watching his feet as he approached; studying his movements with what little time I had.
He went left with a massive, two-handed swing. I ducked to the right, his sword smashing into the metal floor where I once stood, cleaving through it like it was made of paper and makingan ear-piercing, screeching sound as the metal crumpled. He pulled it out effortlessly and came at me again, swinging his sword directly toward my head.
I almost ducked under it but thought better of it, instead leaping into the air and, with a quick beat of my wings, I went tumbling up and over the swing of his blade, avoiding it entirely. I followed through, soaring above his head and landing behind him.
I turned on my heel and swung at his wings, but my sword bounced off a glowing shield that flared to life as soon as my blade got too close. A personal Light shield. Of course, he had a personal Light shield.
“You fight dirty, Sarakiel,” he said, “No doubt a lesson you learned from the disgusting fiend you took up with.”
I summoned a pulse of Light into my right hand and flashed him with it, catching him off-guard and momentarily blinding him. Medrion roared and covered his eyes.
“You’re the only fiend here!” I yelled as I charged toward him.
Medrion blindly raised his sword to defend himself against my attacks, succeeding in deflecting my first two swipes. The third, however, he was not able to avoid. Relief—and satisfaction—filled me when my blade found its way into a slight gap in Medrion’s full-plate and came away bloody.
That shield of his only protects his wings, I thought, but the realization was short-lived.
One of Medrion’s hands pushed out toward me, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair. I screamed, the sudden shock of pain tearing through my scalp as I swung my blade wildly toward him. I caught his sword arm, my blade biting into his gauntlet and causing him to roar, but he didn’t let go.
Instead, he dropped to his knees and slammed my face into the metal floor beneath us, holding me there.
The pain was explosive. I saw stars, my ears began to ring, and I was sure something had broken.
“There,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “Now, this is familiar, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. All I could do was channel Light into my wounds to try to force them to heal as quickly as I could. My nose cracked back into place, and the wounds across my face began to close, but he had me, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
“When I save Heaven,” he whispered against the back of my head, “The first thing I will do is bring you back, and put you into that cell we spent so much time in. We will resume our business, only I won’t send you to the Pit—even if you beg. I am going to enjoy you, Sarakiel. I will heal you, and break you, time and time again, and when I am bored of you, then I will consume you like I will consume Lucifer.”
“You…” I groaned, “Talk… too… much.”
“And I have so much more to say to you, Sarakiel,” he said, as he ground my face into the jagged, metal plating underneath me. “But all in due time.”
His entire weight suddenly lifted from me. I heard him struggle, I heard a slice, and a sick, gargling sound. “You should not have turned your back on me,” hissed Helena. “You should not have turned your back onus.”
Before I could get up, Medrion fell to the floor next to me with a thud. I turned my head, only to find myself staring into the archangel’s wide eyes. Blood was spilling from his mouth, and from an open gash in his throat. He clasped his throat with hands, blood pouring from his fingertips.
“H—h—” he struggled to say. “Hel—p…”
I rolled away from him, then fought to get back onto my feet. There was blood on my face, it was coming from my forehead, from my cheeks, but the Light working through me was startingto seal the wounds. Helena stood over Medrion’s body, a sword of Light in her hand.
She looked… hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. Her eyes were welling up with tears. She seemed ready to start crying, to start grieving over what she had just done. Killed an archangel. Her blade disappeared, evaporating into a cloud of sparkling, golden mist. She then wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands.
“It had to be done,” she said, not to me, but to Medrion.
All he could do was choke on his own blood. Slowly, he stopped convulsing.
