The cell walls crack, splintering, rumbling in warning of collapse.
Entranced, I pull myself to my feet. Light clings to me, twirling around in slivers and whisps, lashing out at the walls like enraged snakes. All I do is look at one corner, wishing it were gone—and a beam of light bursts through it, exploding a large chunk of the walls.
I realize, then, that I have very little control over this violent force. It doesn’t even take a full thought to cause destruction, and I’m far too emotionally volatile to be handling something like that.
So I close my eyes, looking inward once again.
The veil covering my soul has shattered. Not only am I inundated with tethers again, but the endless force of the Aether is pressing down on me with merciless intensity. I can’t believe I’ve never been able to find it before. It’s not a bridge. It is the sky, the sea, the earth—even the vacuum in which all things exist. It is everything, all-consuming, and I have no idea how to shut it off.
Shadow,I plead.Are you there? Have you returned?
No response.
Please, I don’t know what to do with all of this. It’s too much power. How do I close the gate?
Still nothing.
Close the gate, close the gate, close the gate…
When I open my eyes again, by some small miracle, I’m no longersurrounded by magical, destructive light.
It worked.
I walk to the collapsed side of the room, however hazardous that idea may be, and peer outside my confines. Surprisingly, there’s an atrium of some sort. The ceiling is painted in a magnificent mural of angels and beasts, held up by porcelain arches and columns. Below, there’s a cerulean pool surrounded by tropical plants and marble floors. Tables and lounge chairs are scattered about, many of which have seats occupied by an interesting variety of people—all of whom seemed to have been enjoying a regular day until now.
Now, they’re all gawking at me.
I suppose I did makequitethe commotion.
I don’t really know where to go from here. It’s not like I can jump down from what must be three stories high. And I’m fucking exhausted, too. It turns out that accidentally exploding walls is very taxing.
A crowd starts to gather below me, whispering amongst themselves. Angels, humans, and… monsters of some sort. Their features are morphed, for better or for worse. Some look like dreamy fairies, while others look like nightmarish ghouls.
A caped, ghastly figure floats forward from the masses. His face is somewhere between a corpse and a skeleton, and he points at me, screeching, “The Morning Star!”
I blink.
Before I even have time to process it, another person in the crowd repeats him, shouting, “Morningstar!”
These people are fuckingdelusional. I have nothing to do with their morning star. That’s Lucifer’s job. Or Azael’s. Speaking of which, where is the devil?
Yet, more join in with the ghoul, chanting like this is some kind of sports game. “Morningstar!”
Oh, Jesus Christ…
“Morningstar!”
Please, someone. Anyone. Make it stop.
“Morningstar! Morningstar! MORNINGSTAR!”
42
My prayers are answered, but not by God.
A slow clap comes from behind me.
The crowd falls into a dead silence.
