The wings form first, one a little like the frayed, skeletal moth I used to resurrect and a little angry like the Severed Moth.The markings appear almost serrated, though the actual composition is soft and feathery.On the other side, the wing is like starlight, dark and speckled with glimmering dots like the constellations of the Crowned Moth.
The ground trembles, the air around us shivers but instead of tearing, it settles like it’s releasing a sigh.
The atmosphere expands and releases like the city can finally breathe again.There are no more screams.No more crunches of bone and squelching blood.It is silent now.
I strain to see over the edge of the parapet.The remaining Veil tears are resealing themselves; the wraiths being sucked back to where they belong.
It’s over.
I examine what’s left of the angels.My fingers brush my chest, realising there is a small sliver of each still inside me.Perhaps it’s the soul I need to keep me in this realm.Or perhaps, in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to part with all of them.
I examine the insect fluttering before me.
It is not a moth exactly.But ever so similar.It’s bright and colourful like the butterflies I’ve seen in other realms.She’s magnificent.This little creature holds more power than any angel, fallen or otherwise.
They are finally complete.
And now, in the words of the elder angel, it is the bearer of free will.
I slump against the statue, the butterfly coming to rest on my hand.She’s connected to me.I can sense her deep in my chest where the pieces of the sisters sit, cocooned in the space my crystalline heart once occupied.
The butterfly is everywhere, in my mind and cells, we are part of each other the same way the angels were with their moths.
Midnight’s head pokes above the parapet.
“Hey—” I start and buckle over as a shooting pain washes through my entire body.
My skin prickles, the celestial runes shift and morph, darkening.I hold my arms up.
“What the fuck?”I breathe as all the runes shift into far more recognisable shapes.
Demonic runes?
My body arches back as searing pain rushes across my skin and plunges through my muscles.
“Lucy!”Midnight shouts.
But I can’t respond.My jaw is locked, gritting through the pain.The butterfly lands on my chest, trembling as though it too is in pain.
I’m on my knees, crumbling.This is worse than Architecti pulling power out of me.
I reach for my power, but I’m locked out.
“Ignatius,” I spit out and then I curl in on myself, writhing in agony.
42
Midnight
Iwrap Lucy’s body in layers and layers of Finis magic.I don’t have the strength to carry her down the tower.Not with my ribs.I am certain they’re broken by the way every breath I take is fucking blisteringly painful.
I wield the ribbons and Finis does the work of carrying Lucy into the tower and down the never-ending stairs.When I get to the Finis door, I beg Mordax to find Lex and send her to meet me by Church Mortis.
I may not be a linguist, but I’ve learnt enough at Finis to recognise demonic runes when I see them.
The last thing Lucy said before blacking out wasIgnatius.The fucking bastard.
The campus is now quiet.It’s unnerving after such carnage earlier.Vampire soldiers work to lift the bodies of the injured and speed them to the infirmary.
