nineteen
Have you ever wondered what an archangel and human, who share an immense amount of hatred towards each other, talk about on a quest?
Short answer: nothing.
Long answer: there’s a large amount of uncomfortable silence, followed by the occasional death stare and casual comment about the weather.
Before we left the Luminary, the archangel changed his warrior armour for the outfit I stole from Sam again, after I insisted that no human walks around wearing metal armour and a cape. He hid his wings again, too. His sword dematerialised with them, but he assured me it’s always there, “in case he needs to use it”
– a very pointed statement. Though we both know if he wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t need a weapon.
Each step I take feels heavier. I watch the sun’s position in the sky as we move. The woods are thicker now, so much so that if the archangel had his wings out, he’d be tangled within branches in an instant. He warned me that it’s approximately a day’s walk to the facility, which I can tell is pushing his patience as someone who can normally fly wherever he needs.
Even though we have a car, Jeremy and I always walk everywhere. He is always insistent that the cardio is good for us, and right now I’m grateful for it. My feet haven’t begun to blister, and my legs don’t ache like they used to when we’d go on long hikes.
My heart squeezes at the memory of my other half, the man who calms my mind.
I try to stay focussed on the task at hand and ignore the thoughts of Jeremy that bang on the door of my consciousness. The only thing I have to keep me going right now is hope, and the moment I start to question it… It’s a thread that I’d rather not unravel.
Instead I focus my thoughts on the small pieces of information I’ve gathered.
The farther we move from the city, the more destruction we come across. Trees lie in lifeless piles on top of each other, branches littering the way. We carefully navigate through the mixture of rubble, ash, and bones that covers the earth.
I suppress my grief, making my way through the graveyard that the forest has become. I remember hiking through this forest as a teenager; there’s a beautiful river not far from here. The trees were so full of life, a landscape that many would have painted in the world before.
Now it’s littered with signs of death and the monsters that cause it.
One of which walks silently next to me.
My eyes flick to the archangel, watching him navigate the obstacles seamlessly. He moves so elegantly that it almost looks like he’s floating. This is not good for my self-esteem. My competitive side might just force me to try to turn this into some sort of race.
I’m not paying attention to where I’m stepping, and when a large hand grabs my arm, my gasp is as much out of surprise at the contact as it is at my foot slipping into open air.
I look down, my breath catching in my throat.
My foot hovers over an endless chasm that stretches for miles in either direction. The archangel pulls me backward until both my feet are safely on the ground.
I knew that the earthquakes that split the earth when the other worlds arrived were severe… but I’ve never seen the damage in person. It's wide enough that I can’t see where it begins and where it ends, plunging into a dark abyss that descends deep into the earth. The edges of the chasm are sharp and ragged with massive boulders scattered along its rim, and trees that bend backward into the darkness.
“Worlds.”
My voice comes out as a whisper. The archangel mimics my actions and peers into the chasm’s depths.
An image flashes through my mind of daemons climbing up the walls of the trench, sending a shiver down my spine.
“That’s where they came from.”
The archangel looks at me, his brow furrowed.
“I remember the day the war began like it was yesterday. Earthquakes created trenches all over the world, killing millions of people. We had no idea what was going to crawl out of them.”
I shake my head, searching his eyes for any hint of emotion, of remorse. I see nothing but the cold gaze of a heartless killer. They chose this to be their battleground. Would we have ever known such destruction if they hadn’t?
I clear my throat. “What’s the plan? We can’t fly over that.”
I look back into the trench, wondering if there are still daemons down there. “Who knows how far it stretches? We could spend days trying to walk around it.”
“I suppose we will have to go through it, then.”
My jaw falls slack, my eyes wide. “You’ve got to be kidding. You mean climb down there?”
The archangel’s lips only tilt to the left.
“Worlds,”
I say again, peering over the edge. “I’m going to die.”
“One can hope.”
He says it in such an irritatingly casual tone that I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Didn’t you say that the beauty of human life is that you could die at any moment?”
His lips curl into a wicked smirk.
Fucking asshole.
“I’d push you off this cliff if you wouldn’t just fly straight out of it.”
“Touch me, I dare you.”
I think about it for a moment. For a split second, I honestly contemplate whether it’s worth potentially being killed just to watch him fall off the edge and imagine him not coming back to the surface.
Jeremy. Think about Jeremy. You can flay him alive after you find Jeremy.
“Let’s just get this over and done with. Okay?”
I make sure my weapons are securely tucked away. I pulled my hair back into a braid before we left this morning, but a few gold strands have fallen loose. I quickly twirl the braid into a tight bun to make sure it won’t get caught in anything.
The archangel watches me the whole time with a look that suggests he doesn’t believe I’m going to actually do this. He’s hoping I’ll be too scared, and then he can continue without me. That’s exactly why I decide to go first: because he doesn’t think that I will.
I crouch low on the ground next to a bent-backed tree and use it as support while I swing one leg over the edge, then the other.
The archangel’s eyes are wide with surprise as he watches me lower myself off the edge of the chasm.
The bent trees provide a ladder of sorts for the first part of the way down. Some branches start to crack under our weight, but for the most part, it’s easy enough. The light begins to dwindle, and it grows progressively harder to watch my step. One misstep and I’ll plunge to my death. If the archangel falls, he’ll walk away without a scratch, but he’ll probably take me down with him.
The branches thin, and we switch to climbing down the rock face. The edges are jagged enough to provide small ledges for support, but it takes all of my concentration not to fall.
Darkness consumes us so completely now that I have no idea how far we have to go. There is a small amount of light from above, but nothing from below. I move my right leg, feeling below for a crevice to place my foot on, then I move my right hand to where my foot used to be. I follow the same method on the left, slowly but surely making my way down the wall. The archangel follows my movements, occasionally grunting with annoyance at such a tedious task.
As we climb further down, a small red glow casts from below. I pause and look up at the archangel, who doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned by it, though I can’t shake the feeling that we’re climbing into the depths of hell. Red leaves shaped like stars hang from black vines that scatter along the cliff face, unlike any plant I’ve ever seen. Orange dots glow along the spines of the leaves, and float in the space above them.
My right foot scrapes a spot of loose rubble and panic swirls within me as the surface beneath me slips away. I hold onto the cliff by my fingertips, my feet scrambling for a ledge to step onto. One by one, my fingertips start to slip, and the world around me begins to spin. I inhale a sharp breath. If I fall, I die.
I will not die.
My hands give way and my stomach lurches as my body falls backward.
Fingers wrap around my wrist in a vice-like grip. Warmth spreads through my veins like a painkiller, and the archangel stares down at me with nothing more than an annoyed look on his face.
He doesn’t pull me up right away. He dangles me off the cliff face ever so slightly while he decides my fate. His eyes scan mine.
My breath slows to a stop, my hands slick with sweat. A sharp breath escapes me as I slip ever so slightly, but he tightens his hold. Making his decision, he pulls me upwards until my feet find a crevice to support myself again.
Once I’m secured back on the cliff face, I look up at him. He says nothing, but doesn’t look away.
He was considering letting me fall to my death. I saw it in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
The archangel nods, his expression never wavering from mild annoyance. I don’t press any further. I don’t tease or make fun. I don’t demand to know why he debated saving my life for so long. I simply continue climbing in silence, my heart racing, my mind basking in gratitude that I’m still alive. That I still have a chance to find Jeremy.
I hold on to that feeling as I climb the rest of the way down, watching every step I take. The red plants cover most of the cliff face now. Thick branches grow from the earth, making it easier to climb.
The orange glow shines brighter, with a reddish tinge that only intensifies my fear. The earth below is red, dry dirt that is fractured all over. Red lava glows brightly from within the cracks, illuminating the bottom of the chasm.
I hesitate before stepping down onto the earth, unsure if it’s even stable enough to hold my weight. Orange grains of dirt float into the air where my foot makes contact with the ground. In the red glow, the floating specks of dust almost look like diamonds.
I move with careful precision to place my second foot on the ground. The archangel lowers himself next to me, and I steal a glance at the deadly, emotionless mask that now covers his face. I was wrong about Lincoln Park. He wasn’t stepping into enemy territory, just a green patch of hellish contamination. This is enemy territory.
There is no doubt within me that we are not alone down here.
With the soft and eerie illumination, I can only see a few feet ahead, but something tells me I underestimated the distance to the other side. If a creature of darkness were to attack, they’d have no trouble sneaking up on us.
I straighten at the thought, frost blade in one hand and dagger in the other. I hear the sound of scraping steel from behind me: the archangel removing his sword from its sheath. He must be thinking the same. I wonder if his vision is any clearer than mine, if the magic within him grants him any additional powers of sight.
I don’t look at him as I take my first step, but I’m pulled backward quickly. I would have swung, daggers in hand, if it weren’t for the familiar warmth of his fingers wrapped around my upper arm.
My brow furrows as I look up at him and wonder for a moment if I should be concerned by how close he now stands to me.
“Watch your step.”
His voice is soft, but the deepness of it rumbles through the chasm. I follow the archangel’s finger, pointing down towards the molten rock that glows between the cracks of the earth. “Step on it and it’s a one-way ticket straight to the Darklands.”
It sounds like nothing more than a once-off warning, as if he won’t bother stopping me again.
The Darklands.
My mouth opens, horror taking over. Does he mean hell? Does the AIA know that a portal to the Darklands lies so close to the city borders?
I shut my mouth, thinking better of making more noise than necessary.
I nod, and my eyes meet his for a quick moment. The horror in his gaze turns into something more like disgust. His eyes trail down to where his fingers wrap around my skin. Each point of contact tingles with a sensation that can only be described as euphoric. A toxic drug that is likely to get me killed.
He lets go of me quickly, and I wonder if he feels the same sensation when he touches a human, or if it’s a one-way experience.
The archangel takes the lead now, his sword pointing down at his side as if to say that though he’s drawn his weapon, the threat isn’t worth raising his blade in defence. He shoots a smirk back at me before tilting his head onwards in a silent command.
I take careful steps as I trail behind him. Unlike the immortal being leading the way, I need to raise my blades in a ready stance. We move through the low-lit chasm in silence, concentrating on our foot placement more than anything else. It’s hard to have any concept of time down here, when the sky is nowhere to be seen, though it has to have been at least an hour since we reached the bottom.
No creatures of the shadows have come crawling out of the cracks, but that doesn’t put me at ease. Every now and then we hear a low roar, but the archangel assures me that it’s just echoing off the walls and the source of the sound is nowhere near.
The silence is not uncomfortable; any conversation at this point would just act as a beacon to our location. There’s an unspoken, unrealistic hope between us of travelling through the chasm unnoticed and untouched.
Occasionally the archangel stops in place and holds up a hand in anticipation, and we both focus on listening to our surroundings. To the crackling of the lava that flows between the dirt, and the sound of the wind howling through the tunnel, which raises the hairs on my skin one by one with its icy chill.
We hear the low growls of creatures that lurk in the shadows, unable to tell if they’re ten or a hundred feet away. The archangel stares into the darkness intently and I wonder again if he can see more than I, if he will be able to see the claws before they reach us.
A prickle creeps up the back of my neck towards my scalp, my every nerve on edge. I spin quickly with my blade raised high, though my eyes meet nothing but darkness beyond the faint orange glow. All I can hear is the sound of my breath trembling as it draws in slowly and releases in a huff. All I can see is never-ending blackness. The feeling within me doesn’t disappear, but rather deepens.
There’s something lurking in the void. I can’t see it… but I can feel it.
“Slayer.”
The archangel’s husky whisper from behind me only makes me freeze in place. He can see what I can’t. He knows what creature I’m currently sharing air with.
Moving slowly, I tilt the hilt of my frost blade to aim a few feet above my face before I press the small button that increases the UV levels.
The blade illuminates a small fraction of the shadows in front of me. I see cracked, bark-like texture that forms a large wall in the direction we’ve just come from. The hairs on my arms stand taller with each feature that comes into view as I tilt my blade upwards.
Until my eyes meet the deep, carved-out voids that belong to the daemon whose drool now drips onto my hand.