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Written by
Jesa M. R
- Brampton Library Writing Contest
He sat alone in a sea of swirling ash clouds and acidic winds, watching as they rolled and heaved in twisted unity over the ravaged landscape. A sigh pulled his lungs tight before it rushed out past his cracked, bloody lips.
He had run desperately only hours before, run to escape the warped demonic melody of screams and harshly whispered prayers intertwined. He had run to escape the blood-drenched fires and fierce stone walls that rose around his world. But the visions danced behind his clenched eyes, as the echoes of war's haunting symphony played like lingering cries inside his head. He could not escape, not ever .
A corpse lay around his sandal-clad feet, the intensely cool air licking at his toes with an eerie desperation. There was nothing left but a charred black skeleton twisted in agonizing distress, lying on a bed of shredded flesh.
"Lexter." The small one quivered like a fragile leaf as the name tumbled from him, the heavy sound racing the tears to the ground. He had known Lexter like he had known most of the dead things littered around him. But now they were simply gone, nothing but shells, with the lingering scent and cold of oblivion.
A snarl twisted the small one's face as his obsidian eyes followed the ruby curve of Lexter's back . it was bare.
He'd had such beautiful wings, too. Glorious and wide, the colour of blackest midnight with a few scales highlighted in stunning sin-silver. Someone must have wanted a trophy to hang on their mantle. Maybe some angel warrior somewhere was prancing around with the claws that had adorned Lexter's wings dangling from their gently pointed ears.
Slowly, cautiously, the small one watched as a pale, shaking hand reached out and touched the raw muscle exposed on Lexter's ravaged back. The hand was so small, set with curling lacerations and purple bruises. His eyes widened when he realized the hand was his.
"No!" he growled, childishly beating the empty form. Lexter's hands were so strong, so powerful. " Lot of good it did you, bastard!" he snarled, tiny nails clawing at the flesh set in limp tendrils about the blackened bone. Fierce jealousy stormed him, but the reasons behind the dark emerald emotion stunned him still.
Yes, Lexter was strong and big and beautiful, but . he was dead. There was nothing to be jealous of . right?
Wrong. Lexter was free of this, all this death, bloody agony and singing screams.
He was not.
"I hate you .," he snarled, wings twitching indignantly. Pain shot up his shoulders, clawing at the tense muscle; sharp as diamond fangs. His wings were always sore, always closed to hide the tender under-scales. Outside they were obsidian black, like his wide, soft eyes, but inside .
Demons never cared much for them. They all shied away, all scuttled off, leaving only lingering harsh whispers in their wake.
Suddenly, under the blood-red sky and shadows layered like jet silk over the charred landscape, movement caught the small one's eye. He twisted fast to peer over the shifting corpses and thick ash, as a strong, pale hand reached out toward the sky.
A gasp lacerated the air, mouth gaping open. He watched with fixed curiosity and something that at some time may have been hope. Did someone else survive? Was he not alone? No, he couldn't think that way. Hope was fear, because it always left room for pain to ravage.
Out from the wreckage crawled a large white form, all tight muscle and blood-matted hair. And his back . he was wingless.
He watched as the blonde and bloody thing sat in a tremulous mass, quaking and sobbing while beating the ground with tight fists. The small one veered up, standing tall against his height deficiency. He could look so much bigger if he flared his wings, but the little one never had the nerve.
"State your name, underling." He always tried to sound so strong, to fill the empty air his father had left behind.
Sharp ruby eyes shot up to his with a sickening jerk. They stared deep into each other for a long moment that seemed to hold itself separate from reality. It hovered and glowed like a glorious thing, before dying away in the burning wind. The wingless thing opened his mouth to speak, but only broken, pained noise tumbled out before his eyes fluttered and he fell to the ground.
The small one waited, slowly counting in his head. Upon reaching the frantic number ten and realizing the other was surely unconscious, he let his composure fall away in fragmented pieces. Quickly, he scrambled over to the suddenly still creature, eyes running up and down the battered form. Tenderly, he extended his fingers, gently brushing the tangled blonde tendrils off an elegant neck, and checked for a pulse.
A gentle beat strummed through his body; humming the faded song of life. He was all right, and the small one planned to keep it that way. He refused to lose one more comrade.
* * *
Behind a jagged shield of jet rock stretching to the sky, curled the two battered forms. The wind crashed and shattered against the rocks, roaring furiously but dying away all the same. The sound raged, stirring consciousness in the blonde.
"State your name." The voice had a soft sense of gentleness woven about it this time. Ruby eyes fluttered as the sky lay reflected in their depths, and somehow the reflection seemed calmer than the harsh and searing reality littered around the once beautiful earth.
"Angelus." The name came out on a submissive whisper as his gaze swept his feet. The moment they fell, the other longed for the elusive calm that streamed inside of him.
"Of course it is ." Suddenly, the smaller was all business, sitting straight up and challenging the other to meet his gaze. "Emperor." The last word was poised with a note of taunting.
"Do not mock me." To the surprise of both, Angelus was grinning. Yes, the cold and calculating Emperor of the angels was smiling in something that was surely good nature.
"I'll do as I please, you are at my mercy, you are on the demon battlefield."
"Of course." It had done little to remove the grin (to the small one's delight). "And what would your name be then? Demonica?"
"Dominic," he growled and gritted his teeth, before grinning in spite of himself. "You forget yourself, Angelica."
"It's Angelus," he corrected, the annoyance creasing his face.
"That's what I said, isn't it?" Suddenly, the air was alive and vibrant with bright laughter. Dominic blinked in blank confusion as the infectious sound seeped into him like comforting warmth, and suddenly he was laughing as well.
"Touché. You know, demons are not as scary as they say."
"Neither are angels. I think the stories may have been exaggerated. For example, they often say you -" Dominic bit his tongue.
"What?"
"They say you have fearsome black wings." At this Angelus flushed.
"I did. No one liked them much, I'm sad to say." His shoulders twitched, out of habit Dominic assumed. It occurred to him that perhaps Angelus was more broken then he appeared. Perhaps he was clinging to his playful demeanor as some kind of last defense. Having your wings taken off is said to rob one of their very soul.
It was then Dominic noticed the slowly growing pool of crimson at his feet. Angelus was very injured. He opened his mouth to comment, but a strangely different tangle of words tumbled out.
"Me, too."
"Pardon?"
"Well . I ." Slowly, for the first time in years, Dominic spread his wings. They ached in stiffness, but he unraveled them the same, watching with something that felt oddly like joy as Angelus's eyes slowly lit from within.
"Beautiful ." He shyly extended his fingers, touching the pale blue scales with vivid appreciation. Slowly, he traced the wispy white and silver patterns over the scales while Dominic repressed a rattling shudder.
Nothing had ever felt this way before. He felt so vulnerable; so barred and yet . it felt wonderful far past any words could say, almost like some twisted intimacy. "They're like the sky ."
"Like your sky. Ours are red."
"Right ." Angelus seemed to slip a little. "I miss my sky ."
"You'll see it soon." Dominic found himself saying. Their eyes met and held each other, and it was then the smaller noticed how Angelus's eyes were merely shards pieced together to look happy, when in fact they were so completely shattered.
"Yes, you're right." Dominic got the feeling that Angelus didn't believe himself. Anger suddenly surged him.
"WHY?!" Dominic shrieked, suddenly shoving Angelus to the rocky ground. "Why do we fight this damn war?!"
Angelus looked up from the ground, choking on his words as he propped himself on his elbows.
"Y-you don't know? There was a prophecy. The humans uncovered it millions of years ago and it marked the beginning of the war -"
"I know," Dominic cut in, anger vivid in his harsh voice. "I know all that. Then the humans died out on our battlefields. I know! But WHY do we fight?!"
To this, Angelus had no answer. He simply closed his eyes and leaned against the rock behind him, arms wrapping around himself in palatable desperation.
Dominic growled low in his throat. "War is nothing but pointless. So we fight pointlessly because a rock some dead creatures found told us to."
It was more than a rock; it was etched in a mountainside.
Suddenly, the air was full of that infectious laughter again. There was a certain ring to it, loud and harsh like all the joy was bleeding from a wingless angel.
"Then let's stop fighting. I've always been fighting; my whole life . let's just stop, Dominic. Make it all stop." He paused to suck in a sharp breath and grip his sides. There was so much blood at their feet. "Please," he added in a hushed whisper.
"Open your eyes." The smaller suddenly wanted to drink in their calm reflection, terrified suddenly that he never would again.
"I-I can't ." His breathing was suddenly so shallow, like a receding tide.
"Angelus ." Dominic hated his voice, so quiet, so pleading. He hated it so much he barely questioned the tears rolling down his face.
"I-I can't . I'm sorry ."
Then the stillness wrapped around him in a final embrace. Angelus was dead in a pool of blood and a shroud of ash. The wind roared. Time slipped away in broken shards.
"Emperor Dominic." At the sound of a voice, he snapped his wings shut, glaring up at the creature hunched down to peer at him. It was simply another minion, using his large, scaly wings to shield himself from the wind. "Please Emperor. Don't run off like that. I've been trying to find you for hours."
"What is it?" he snapping, hating the tears that burned down his face; hating the eyes that could see them.
The winds had changed. Angelus was merely a matted mass of bloody blonde under a pile of ash.
"Sir, we've . we've won." Loathing washed over Dominic as the pride swelling in the minion's voice filled his head. "A few hours ago, Kurray captured the Angel Emperor. He's dead, and Kurray wanted you to have this." A parcel wrapped in leather (or was it skin?) was dropped in his lap.
A long moment passed as the messenger seemed to be waiting for something.
"I'll be along shortly. Be gone!" Dominic finally snapped. The messenger tripped over himself upon leaving.
Slowly, the folds of the package gave way and fluttered to the ground in torn strips. Dominic knew what he was holding before he saw it; the scent was telling.
With shaking hands, he placed the large, beautiful, feathery wings over Angelus's shrouded form. The feathers were blacker than ash as they rustled with an intertwined sense of grace and eeriness in the suddenly calmer wind.
"They're beautiful, Angelus," he whispered, gently plucking a feather and tucking it behind his ear. He leaned down, brushing away softly until a gently pointed ear was exposed. "I will declare peace, not victory," he whispered.
A moment passed, suspended in tears and tenderness, falling away as Dominic released the angel from a fierce embrace, and tucked the feathery wings around the still form.
And so it was, he walked off the deadened battlefield to declare the end, with wings held open to the world.
"Let us share the sky ."
* * * *
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