Chapter 36
Exeros’ words hung in the air.
The Throne Hunters stared at him in varying states of shock.
It was Sam who broke the silence.
“Wait—what?” She put her hand to her neck and stepped back. “You’ll—you’ll sacrifice yourself for—me? To—”
Exeros stared at her, expression dour. His scarred hands remained folded over the head of his walking stick, his slender figure relaxed, his six wings gently stirring.
“My time has passed. For a few centuries I strove to make a difference. Ultimately, I failed. My opportunities are now circumscribed. I have been left alive as part of my penance. The future holds nothing for me but demeaning servitude.” The Seraph raised his chin.
“Against my expectations, I find in you—and your companion, Harald—a chance to make a difference once more. Why should I not take it?”
“Because…” Sam’s eyes were wide. “You’re a living… you have your own soul, you’re… I can’t let you just kill yourself. There must be another way.”
Nessa’s tone was hushed. “If you’re willing to take this step, can’t you instead fight by our side?”
“No.” Exeros ran his tongue over his lower lip, his glower morphing almost into a snarl. “I am constrained. I once delighted in nothing so much as striking the enemy. Part of my punishment. I am now bound.”
“Wait,” said Harald. “The angels are losing the war. You were once their greatest weapon, or one of them. Even if you failed, how does it make sense for them to take you off the board altogether? It’s not like they’re drowning in elite warriors, right?”
Exeros’ amusement was dark. “We angels refuse to win the war by any means—that approach belongs to the demons. We have… principles. And obedience is a core tenet. I disobeyed a direct command from Pelagias, one of the arch angels. My nature was always tempestuous. I struggled with… temperance. I led a costly attack on Grimarque, and many fell. We were rebuffed. Had the others rallied to my cause, we would have won through and conquered the Throne of Harmony, but…”
Exeros sighed, and the sound was akin to a desolate wind blowing through a dead forest. “I did not receive the necessary support. I was left stranded. I sought to die in combat, but Pelagias extracted me so that he would not be denied the satisfaction of punishing me for my… temerity.”
“Oh, damn,” said Vic. “The angels sound just as bad as the demons.”
Exeros’ eyes narrowed. “They may be conservative, overly hierarchical, and crippled by tradition and constraint, but they are nothing like the demons.”
Vic blanched. “Sorry. Yep. You’re right. Forget I said that.”
“What would your sacrifice do for Sam?” asked Harald.
“I’m not accepting it,” began Sam, voice rising in panic. “I can’t accept his death, his—”
“I was once the High Warden of the Celestial Thrones. In me burned all Seven Thrones, a near infinite source of power.” Exeros sighed. “I can grant Samantha access to all her Thrones, if only for a while. Her limit shall be only the very quality of her soul.”
“All Seven?” asked Harald, tone hushed, and glanced at Sam in concern.
“I…” Sam’s gaze had become glassy. “I only have three. How could I…”
Exeros’ expression was cold and disdainful. “That is not my concern. I can grant you that access. You will have to determine how many Thrones you can Ascend and for how long.”
“Seven Thrones.” Harald marveled. “With that kind of power, Sam, your Starfire Bastion would be a prison for Eclavistra. Your Warden’s Pulse would allow us to survive mortal wounds and continue fighting.”
“If I could channel them without burning myself alive,” she whispered.
“As you are, you will surely die.” Exeros shook his head. “You are too weak. A mere Level 6. You must level. Ideally, you should be higher, much higher, and your Ego in the 30s.”
“It’s 22 right now,” whispered Sam. “With the help of the Ashwright’s Vow and Ashwright’s Wreath. Without them it’s 19.”
Vic brightened. “If we can find the Twilight Crown and have Sam wear the Aureate Master, why, that’d add another +10. Simple!”
“Simple,” drawled Nessa. “We just need to convince whoever has it to lend the most important Artifact in Flutic to us.”
“Or we steal it,” said Vic with a shrug.
Harald rubbed his chin. “The Judgment Slats—remember, part of the haul we took from Gorkin? Anna had them last. They gave a +4 to Ego. If we give Sam the Crown, the Slats, and the Aureate Master, that would add +18.” He looked to Exeros. “Would Ego 38 be enough?”
“That’d be 37,” said Sam softly, still sounding stunned.
“That might be… sufficient,” allowed Exeros grudgingly.
“Done!” Vic clapped his hands. “We nip back to Flutic, grab the Crown, borrow the Slats from Anna, equip Sam with it all, and then she goes to town on Eclavistra with seven Thrones. Easy peasy.”
“Easy peasy,” said Nessa sarcastically.
“We’d still need to recruit Brianna,” said Harald. “And find the right battlefield.”
“I doubt that Brianna would decline,” said Kársek thoughtfully. “This is exactly the kind of battle that her Class is designed for.”
“Wait,” said Sam. “I still have to agree.”
Everyone turned to stare at her.
“I…” She gazed pleadingly at Harald. “You’re asking me to take Exeros’ life.”
“I am voluntarily offering it,” countered the Seraph.
“Doesn’t matter.” Sam drew herself upright. “Suicide is… to accept your life, from a being such as yourself, it’s… it’s such a terrible responsibility, so…”
Harald crushed his urge to argue. His impatience.
He could understand where she was coming from, but it was clear this was to be their path.
She just had to get over her squeamishness.
“Look. I hear what you’re saying. And you can’t be rushed into accepting this.
So… why don’t we work on leveling you up a bit, and give you time to think it over?
Even one or two more levels could make a huge difference. ”
“Agreed,” said Exeros dryly. “I have been enslaved for decades. A few days more will not make a difference.”
“Enslaved?” asked Sam softly.
Exeros simply stared at her.
“See?” Vic snapped his fingers. “You’re actually granting Exeros his freedom. You’re providing him a—”
“Shut up, Vic,” said Sam sadly.
Vic raised both palms. “Fine. Friends don’t use their powers on friends. You’re right.”
Nessa gazed around the pillared hall. “We should rest. We’ll not find as safe a corner as this one on the next level. Harald, why don’t you put your golem on watch—”
“I will be on watch,” said Exeros with something akin to humor. “I have no choice in the matter.”
“Very well.” Nessa bowed her head. “Then the rest of us should eat and rest. When we awaken, we’ll see what the dungeon has brought us. And if needs be, we’ll descend with the specific goal of leveling up Sam.”
Everybody nodded and set about getting comfortable.
Exeros rose back into his burning mote form and floated some distance away.
“Harald?” asked Sam with quiet need.
He extended his hand to her, and when she took it, led her down the hall and past some pillars so they had privacy.
“I don’t want to talk,” she said. “Just… hold me.”
They sat against the wall. He grimaced down at his own gore-soaked form, but Sam didn’t seem to care. She leaned against him as he draped his arm over her shoulders, and simply stared out at nothing.
For a while he watched her, trying to divine her thoughts, but eventually even Form of the Black Throne asked that he sleep. There simply wasn’t enough ambient darkness to restore him.
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was her still staring out into the middle distance.
* * *
Sam gently disengaged herself from Harald once his breathing had deepened, and after cupping his cheek with bittersweet affection for but a moment, rose and slipped away.
Exeros’ mote burned in the near distance.
She approached it.
Sensing her intent, the Seraph manifested.
“I have questions,” she said.
“Mortals always do.”
“If I accept your sacrifice, I would know what exactly is going on. Even Seraphina couldn’t answer with certainty my most pressing questions.”
“Ask. I have nothing left to lose. If I know the answer, I shall give it to you.”
Sam felt something flinty and unyielding arise within her. “Why did the Fallen Angel fall?”
“It is given that the Archons in the Pleroma exist in perfection, but they are aware of the misery here in the mortal realm. In time, that misery grows overwhelming, and like ripe fruit, they may choose to fall so as to provide suffering mortals with a road to redemption.”
“So the church is right. She fell for us.”
Exeros bowed his head.
“Why do the demons exist? Why are they allowed to fight for her Thrones?”
“Demons and angels are consubstantial. They are both made of the same divinity. The only difference lies between their philosophies. One believes in the order laid down by the Fallen Angels, and that in time their service will be amply rewarded. The other believes that the very order is a test, and that only those with initiative and will can overcome it and in doing so rise to become an Archon themselves.”
Sam reeled. “Angels and demons are the same?”
“They were, at first. The difference in philosophy causes their forms to warp.”
“So…” Sam’s mind spun. “Is that why… is that why angels are so hesitant to take risks?”
Exeros smiled. “Precisely. To accelerate, gamble, or show impatience is to betray demonic tendencies. Better to have faith, and trust that our inherent goodness will be cause enough for our eventual victory.”
“So you were punished for being too…?”
“Demonic.”
“That’s… but you were fighting the demons.”
“Even so.”
“Huh.” Sam stared at the weary Seraph. “Do you regret it?”
“Regret my insurrection? I only regret that the others did not rally to my banner. Which is, I suppose, an indictment of my nature, in and of itself. Pelagias told me that in time I would become a demon. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps my very anger was the seed of my own destruction. Perhaps…” Exeros looked away.
“Perhaps that is why I am willing to sacrifice myself now. A final bid, I suppose, to be angelic.”