25. Tassarion
Tassarion
Well, rot. This was a deliciously positive turn of events. I shifted in the tree, getting more comfortable. Had I known these proceedings would have gone like this, I would’ve brought snacks.
“Blood for blood! Blood for blood!” The angels continued to chant.
I really thought Marcèllian would somehow weasel his spawn out of punishment. To my surprise and great pleasure, he couldn’t. Jacques cried out, testifying to no avail. The angels had made their decision. For the death of little Richard, Jacques Beauradèl would die.
Movement from a window above caught my attention. I looked up and saw Yvette. It was only a few dawns ago that she was so cheerful while she played with her little brother. Now she watched as the eldest of her siblings was condemned for the death of the youngest.
Donning a pretty blush-pink gown that accentuated her curves, she watched from her bedchamber balcony the proceedings below through saddened hazel eyes.
She was barefoot and her hair was undone, the tight curls tumbling around her frame in a large, twisted-out afro.
She held herself by her wings, the long feathers wrapping around her body.
Beautiful and innocent as she was, the sight of her vibrant life only enraged me.
Yvette Beauradèl was still here.
Vitani Everthorn wasn’t.
“Blood for blood.”
Mireline whispered the words, yet they blared over the courtyard as if she’d roared.
The legend of an angel whipped around and thrust out her hand at Jacques.
He screamed. The chains on his wings clipped through, snapping talon and bone.
I flinched at the crunching sound. His feathers fell, and golden blood seeped from his wings, down his body, dripping to the floor.
Mireline flicked her hand to the side, then flexed her fingers.
Jacques howled in agony. His limbs snapped.
Bones broke. His body contorted. He crumpled to the ground, becoming a mess of blood and fragmented bones.
I’d been too young to remember. Now it made sense why Mireline was here. And why she’d always been feared.
Madame Mireline was a Limb Bender.
I watched on with rapt fascination. With every snap of her hand, every wave of her fingers, Jacques wailed out with bloodcurdling anguish, begging for mercy he wouldn’t find.
He’d fallen to the ground, close to his signet ring, which lay between him and Marcèllian.
Marcèllian had closed his eyes and placed a set of his wings over his ears so he wouldn’t have to see or hear Jacques.
Coward.
I watched on with everyone else as Mireline broke the angel bone by bone until he was only a pool of blood and a pile of bones and torn feathers. When she was done, she pulled back.
“A murderer will not be given way to enter the Ellelights.”
Another angel surfaced from seemingly nowhere. They looked like a Higherrank.
I counted seven wing pairs. A Seraphim.
I frowned, confused.
Why was a Seraphim here?
The seraph hovered in perfect stillness next to Mireline.
Without a word, she lifted her hand and began siphoning Jacques’s spirit out of his body.
I jerked up, back stiffening. I leaned forward, struck with awe.
This Seraphim was a Spirit Filer, though I couldn’t guess what element her ethèr was made of.
If I were a betting male, I’d guess she was like Nahomie. A Seraphim of fire.
I’d never seen a Spirit Filer with my own eyes, but the Empyrean was full of them.
They helped angelic spirits cross from this realm to the Ellelights once their angelic bodies had deceased.
That was the extent of my knowledge, but it was fascinating to watch in real time.
The Seraphim lifted her palms, an ethereal light glowing in them.
“To the Infinite who is, was, and will always be, I condemn this spirit. For all things, there is a season, a time for all activities in the realms beyond Pasaille. A time arrives for us to be born, and also a time to die. You, Infinite, have made all things beautiful in their time, and placed the Ellelights in the hearts of your angels. But this spawn has turned away from your goodness, going astray to what is evil.”
Jacques whimpered at the prayer, sobbing under the moonlight. My ears twitched. I was positively elated. I’d never heard this prayer before. Resting my elbows on my knees, I listened close.
“Oh Infinite, let us be wise as the stars, and be taught to number our dawns, to never forget the vapor that is life, and the brevity of our time in the realms. May we remember our dawns are mere sighs, breaths taken in one moment, and the ending gone in the next. All of us angels are shadows, and our coming and goings come to swift endings, though we live for an Age past another Age. Therefore, every wing of hope we contain lies with you, forever at your feet.”
The Seraphim’s hands twitched. Ethereal light grew. The hair on my arms stood on end. There was supernatural magic afoot, and I shuddered as it filled the humid evening air.
“When we are in our darkest valleys, fear will never move us, because there you are, always beside us. Your scepter and crown protect, comfort, and guide us all. Infinite, we have full confidence your goodness and unfailing love will never stop pursuing us, each and every dawn of our lives, through the Ages. And we will forever be privileged to live in your house, all through the Ellelights, always and forever. All, except for Jacques Augustèn Beauradèl. I call him condemned. I strip him of his eternal rights. I judge him unworthy to enter your Ellelights. Arèmen.”
“Arèmen!”
Mireline chorused, and the angelic audience followed suit.
“Arèmen,” I whispered, waiting for the seraph to exact justice.
The Seraphim coaxed Jacques’ spirit out of his body, luring the golden silhouette of his physique from his flesh. Once his spirit was detached from his body, the Seraphim leaned forward, took hold of Jacques’ spirit and...
“NO.”
Marcèllian screamed out as he watched the Seraphim squeeze her hand into a tight fist, crushing the spirit of Jacques in her palm until the spirit was no more, vanishing into thin air.
“What have you done?” Marcèllian said in a broken whisper.
Above, Yvette clamped her hands over her mouth and rushed back inside, slamming the doors behind her.
“You’ve killed him,” Marcèllian wheezed. “He’s... gone. For... for all eternity.”
Mireline looked at him without pity.
“Blood for blood, Marcèllian. He can join the Fallen, to which he now belongs.”
Mireline turned away without another word.
The Seraphim followed in tow, gliding past the empty shell of Jacques’s body as if it were invisible.
Without a word, in one accord, every angel in attendance floated into the air, looked at Marcèllian with unforgiving glances, and flew away in different directions.
Marcèllian fell to his knees in shock. One female remained. I hadn’t seen her until now. She bent over herself, screaming until her throat was raw. I recognized her hair. Its shape. The lilt of her screams as she crawled to Jacques’ body and fell over it.
Inayah Beauradèl.
I recognized the shrill of her scream.
Manmi sounded the same when she found Tovares in Zemshaza’s grasp after the Fallen had nearly bludgeoned me. The scream she released before begging him to take her life instead. The scream that was the accompanying symphony of my nightmares.
A symphony I had only playing for the Beauradèls.
Pushing into a crouch in the trees, I leapt from my perch, landing on my feet with ease. I sauntered across the courtyard lazily, hands in my pockets as if I’d just finished an evening stroll.
“Wings high, Marcèllian. Inayah.” A nod. A cruel smile. “Long time no see.”
Their heads snapped up. Then they gasped.
Both crawled backward on the ground, trying to distance themselves from me.
I waved my hand. The back doors slammed shut, locking them out of their manor.
Flexing my free hand, I poured out a torrent of souls into the courtyard.
My Nanmiess latched onto the Beauradèls, dragging them forward.
“Have you been avoiding me?” I asked cheerfully. “I’ve been looking for you. For three centuries to be precise. I’ve looked forward to our reunion.”
“How in the stars...” Marcèllian breathed, unable to believe his eyes.
Inayah trembled with sheer horror as if she were staring at a ghost. In her defense, she almost was. Rumor had it I died in the Hèls and what had returned to Mortevain was a Fallen puppet that was a blight on the entire island. I planned to make that rumor true for them.
I grinned, nodding down at them as if speaking to old-time friends.
Friends who owed money.
Friends who realized that time had come to collect.
“You,“ Marcèllian seethed.
“Me,” I grinned. I threw an uncaring glance at Jacques’ remains. “Pity. You really should have begged more, Marcèllian.”
“You... you monster,” Inayah cried. “You did this! You killed my sons. This was all you!”
“So you’re not the moron I always assumed you were,” I chuckled, bending over them. “Shocking. I couldn’t be sure. What with you choosing this baboon’s backside as a wingmate and all.”
My hair slipped forward, the braids tumbling off my shoulder from where I had them tucked into my crown.
“Yes, of course, imbeciles. This was all me.” A pause. “You know. Just like Manmi, Papi, Vitani’s corpses were all you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Marcèllian whimpered.
“Play the rotting despot with an idiot who will fall for it, swine,” I snarled viciously.
Inayah opened her mouth to scream. I waved a hand, silencing her. She cried, but no sound came out. Her face drained of color as she clutched her throat.
“Well, doesn’t this look familiar.” I turned my head. “Marcèllian, don’t you remember when I was snatched away into the hands of a certain Fallen and when I screamed you silenced me?”
Marcèllian gulped. He said nothing.
Guilt stained his eyes as he looked away.
“You know what’s funny? While rotting away in Zemshaza’s chains, that was all I could think about.”
“Please,” Inayah mouthed. “Please forgive?—”
“Forgive?” I tutted, shaking a ringed finger at her. “Darling Inayah, it’s far too late for any of that. Don’t you think? Enjoy the rest of your twinight, asheaters.”
I laughed cruelly, lifting my gaze up to Yvette’s bedchambers.
“I’ll be back.”
“Stars,” Marcèllian cried. “No!”
I ignored him. Then I flicked a finger towards Jacques’ remains.
A flood of souls lunged for the body, feasting on Jacques’s carcass.
“No, stop!” Marcèllian cried.
I hummed a tune of great mourning, gliding away, hands back inside my pockets.
I continued to hum as I crossed the courtyard, my cape trailing behind me like a midnight veil.
Clapping my wings, I opened a star gate.
The Beauradèl’s sobs turned to outright screams while I laughed to my hearts content and headed home to my Phantimèssa.