She is nothing like the demons I’ve encountered on my journey across this ruined world—the creatures who have clawed their way up from the depths of hell, crossed over through the fissures in the earth, and are slaughtering defenseless humans they come in contact with.
She is neither beast nor man.
But something else entirely.
Something I never encountered—on this plane or any other.
Like me, her true color is blotted out with divine essence.
How… I do not yet know.
Her identity is a mystery. Her face is half-shielded by a silver mask, and the cloak she wears hides her well, with the added benefit of protecting her from the endless ashfall.
I first saw her days ago, emerging from a hidden door set into the forest floor. I had paused along a mountainside, drawing life from the ridge to return it to whence it came, when the faint groan of metal carried through the trees.
The door had been invisible to the naked eye until it opened, and she climbed out, carrying a large pack.
I lingered, expecting others to follow.
But no one did.
She is alone. And based on the armor she wears and the finely crafted twin swords crossed over her back—hilts rising just above her shoulders—she believes herself capable of defending herself.
However, that’s not the only thing that gave me pause.
The nature of her aura did. The flexes of color, the iridescence, and the way it blends and swirls with colors now absent from this world compelled me to learn more about her.
For the past two hours, I’ve watched her track small game through the forest. Her skill and stealth are absolute and something most humans aren’t capable of. Two pelts now hang from her belt, and fresh meat has been cleaned and packed away with practiced efficiency.
Not twenty feet from me, she lets out a sharp, deliberate bird call, and moments later, I hear the quick rhythm of approaching hooves.
The stallion, trained well enough to come at her summons, appears.
She reaches for him with practiced ease, catching the reins, and deposits her game in the side satchel before swinging up into the saddle in one fluid motion. She directs him south.
I follow.
Keeping my distance, but I match her pace.
My purpose had been to come here and test those remaining. To displace them. To fracture what little stability they’ve managed to rebuild and carve the world into pockets of survival by creating scarcity, desperation, and discord. My task is to return some of God’s essence in his creations on this plane back to him. If, of course, the scale at the end of the days weighs in his favor, God can then use that power and remake this world anew, or transfer it to another.
Up until I came across the demons now roaming this plane, I had no reason to doubt all would go as planned. But their presence here does not bode well for Heaven, nor for my brothers and me. They are not a part of the agreement, and I am not sure whether my brothers are aware of the perils humanity now faces or that our mission has this added complication.
Thirty-one days ago, I was hunted by a pack of them, no more than five, and I barely survived. I spent the better part of my days healing and then backtracking their path to find out where they came from and what damage they wrought since their arrival.
Three smaller settlements lie in total ruin. Eight survivors. Ninety-three dead. Left behind were distinct markings no earthly creature could have caused, along with the lingering scent of brimstone.
Eventually, I discovered their origins. Large holes that were created, I imagine, from the many earthquakes that have shifted the foundation of this world. Gaps wide and deep enough to split apart the earth’s thick core. Hell’s inhabitants must have taken advantage and slipped through the gates somehow. Whether by design or simply seeking an escape is another mystery to be solved.
It makes no difference either way. The point remains—they are slaughtering souls and eliminating some of the hope that Heaven has for the scale to sway in our favor.
More than ever, God needs the power this plane holds. Because that same power can be molded to do anything he wishes. Imbue his angels with extra might. Blight out the demons ravaging the world. Or place it within Heaven’s Gate so Lucifer and his army cannot breach them a third time.
A niggling, disquieting sense tells me all of this is connected. That higher plane that only I can tap into. It doesn’t speak in words or whispers but in feeling, and it probes me onward after this woman and down this path of discovery. I feel her emotions more strongly than any other being I’ve come across. Her aura is far brighter than any mortal’s should be. She is neither a fallen nor an angel, yet here she is. Her soul gives off a glow nearly as bright as mine, if a bit muted, and it reveals her to be much more than she seems.
This is what drives me to become her shadow. Her silent protector.
The days begin to blend into one another, marked only by a few things of note.
