Chapter 15 #2
Lyall repeated his plea to the goddess to no avail.
I could feel myself fading rapidly. The pain, nausea, and fever were rearing their ugly heads again.
It was taking everything in me to repress the spasms that had my muscles wanting to contract in an excruciating fashion. I wouldn’t last much longer.
Helpless anger burnt in my gut. If not for Elliot’s last malicious attack against me, I might have had a chance. Why had he even tried to steal the amulet? How would that have benefited him in any way? Why couldn’t they have just left me alone?
“Lyall,” I whispered.
“No!” he snapped angrily. “Don’t say it.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I gave him a quivering smile.
“I love you,” I said, pouring all the emotions I felt towards him into these three words.
He crouched next to the altar, taking one of my hands while caressing my hair with the other.
“Don’t leave me,” he begged. “Hang on just a little longer. I will figure it out.”
“It’s not your fault, Lyall.”
His face constricted with so much pain it broke my heart.
“Please, don’t leave me. Please!”
“I’m sorry. I—”
The words died in my throat at the sight of a blinding light appearing behind him. And then, it faded to reveal the most magnificent Angel of Death. And it was not Pharos.
He looked at least 7’ tall with wings that should have been almost too massive for him to carry.
And yet they hung gracefully and effortlessly, partially open behind him.
Their pristine white color matched the skirt held in place by the golden belt around his waist. Like Pharos, he wore pauldrons and bracers, but his were of the shiniest gold encrusted with precious gems. A white hood, the same luxurious fabric as his skirt partially hid his face.
Despite the shadow it cast, the white glow of his eyes illuminated his features enough for me to see the noble nose, full lips, and square jaw of a breathtaking male.
A few strands of obsidian hair peeked around the edges of his hood.
Lyall jerked his head around to see what had caught my attention, and an air of pure terror descended over his features.
“Lord Azrael! NO! You cannot reap her!” he shouted.
Lord Azrael?! The Lord of Death himself?!
To my shock, Lyall dropped to his knees before Azrael, his head bowed in submission, and his face constricted by despair.
“Take me instead. Punish me, not her. Please don’t take her. Do not cast your wrath on her for my sins. Please punish me. Me!”
My heart broke. Why would Lyall think that the Lord of Death would want to punish him? What had he done to believe he deserved such fate?
“Oh, Lyall,” Azrael said with something akin to pity and sadness.
And then he opened his right palm, and a gleaming scythe appeared in his hand.
“NO!” Lyall shouted.
He shot to his feet to stop the Angel of Death. But with a simple flick of two fingers, Azrael pushed him away, with enough strength to make him slide a few meters back, but not to send him crashing down or causing any damage.
My life flashed before me as he swiped his scythe towards my face.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the end I never anticipated to come this way.
A cold gust sliced through my nape, and the increasingly debilitating pain that had been consuming my body vanished.
I exhaled, expecting what remained of my soul to float away.
It didn’t.
“ELENI!” Lyall shouted as he rushed to my side.
My eyes jerked open when his arms frantically gathered me in his embrace. His confusion at still finding me alive mirrored mine. He touched my face, his eyes flicking between mine to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
“What…? What did you do?” Lyall asked, baffled.
“Peace, Lyall. I’m not here to take your mate from you,” Azrael said in a soft voice. “Her soul is not mine to reap. And her thread still has a path forward. I merely took away her pain.”
Although relieved, I shared the tension still stiffening my man’s back. The Lord of Death had indeed taken away my pain. But why?
“Thank you,” Lyall said hesitantly. “Then w-why are you here?”
“For you, Lyall,” Azrael said matter-of-factly.
“NO!” I exclaimed, too weak to throw my body protectively in front of him.
Azrael burst out laughing before shaking his head at us with an amused expression.
“You’re both far too adorable,” he said teasingly. “Your love for each other is refreshing. But you need to relax. I’m not here to reap anyone.”
He closed the distance between us. Lyall tightened his embrace around me as he eyed Azrael suspiciously, his protective instincts going into overdrive. My mate then stood, partially blocking his access to me.
Unfazed, Azrael smiled and slightly shifted to the side, as if daring Lyall to flat-out step in front of him.
A powerful shiver coursed through me when Azrael gently caressed my cheek while looking at me in an almost paternal fashion.
He dropped his hand before staring at Lyall with a serious expression.
“It’s time for you to embrace your true self if you want to save your mate.”
Lyall blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Hecate cannot fix this. The ritual says that divine light is key to unlocking the doorway to the seat of one’s soul. Only the true beloved can hold that key,” Azrael said.
“A Fallen…” I whispered with sudden understanding. “Kali said she only knew of the ritual working for a Fallen Angel.”
“Are you saying that the ritual only works for angels?!” Lyall asked with a crestfallen expression, the devastation he felt echoing my own. “But Pharos said there’s still hope!”
To my shock, Azrael nodded. “Yes, there is.”
“And you would help me?!” Lyall asked, his tone disbelieving. “Or rather, you would be willing to help her?”
He shook his head. “I cannot help your mate. The Covenant forbids it. I’m merely here to teach my son something he needs to know.”