Chapter 6 #3
The mote expanded rapidly into the form of a young boy, perhaps ten years old, his hair shorn close to the scalp and the same ivory white as his former radiance.
He wore threadbare rags, the hems of his black pants torn and ending mid-shin, his shirt perhaps once having been green but now brownish-gray.
The skin of his arms, hands, and what was visible of his chest above his shirt’s neckline was mottled with old scars, and six small wings extended from between his shoulder blades, three to a side.
But it was the weight of his regard that stilled Harald’s tongue. Though his face was that of a child, his eyes were lined and sunken like those of a man twelve years into a prison sentence, his irises black, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed.
It was like being studied by a disapproving magister that had already decided your guilt the second they clapped eyes on you.
A walking stick had appeared with him, and he rested both hands over its gnarled head.
“Yes,” said Exeros, his tone withering and dry. “I can ‘glow brighter’. But I sincerely doubt I shall ever, ever be given cause to expend even a fraction of a fraction of my power on your behalf.”
Harald stared at the scarred, sullen, and dirty child angel in shock.
Ah, Exeros is in fine humor. Alabenthos’ voice at least betrayed his own amusement. Now. I shall bind you both so that Exeros may execute his function without undue difficulty. Resist my power, Harald Darrowdelve, at your peril.
“I—what?” Harald tore his gaze free of the pale-haired child’s glare just in time to see twin sparks of light flash down and sink into his and Exeros’ chests.
His Cosmos trembled, and a message appeared in his vision.
Do you accept this Soul Bond with Exeros Val’Seraphel of the First Radiance, former High Warden of the Celestial Thrones and Bearer of the Sevenfold Corona, Scourge of the Abyss, Shield of Creation, the Bright Ruin, and now known as the Shattered Seraph?
Harald blinked and looked back to the filthy, scarred ten-year old child, who was frowning at an invisible message all his own. The child’s gaze cut to Alabenthos. “You didn’t tell me he was Darrowdelve’s spawn.”
Alabenthos made the slightest of shrugging gestures.
“Fuck.” There was a world of heartfelt emotion in that single word, a yawning chasm that betrayed old anger, seething bitterness, stark, bitter amusement, curmudgeonly resignation, and blank, indiscriminate hatred.
“Fucking hell. Fine. Fine! It is done.” His black eyes flitted over to Harald.
“On my part, at least. Are you going to stand there sucking your thumb like an illiterate black lamb from hell, or accept the bond?”
“Uh.” Harald blinked, tore his gaze away again, and focused on the message. He reread the titles and was impressed despite himself. This child was the Shield of Creation? He couldn’t believe it.
But what was he to do? Alabenthos, like all those who knew how to monopolize power, had given him a choice that was no choice at all.
He accepted the Soul Bond, and the message disappeared.
Immediately a new sense impinged upon his mind: he became aware of Exeros standing right there as if the Shattered Seraph had become an extension of his own body.
Closing his eyes momentarily, he felt like he could almost sense a dull ivory light coming from where the angel stood, though when he opened them, there was no unnatural illumination at all.
It is done, said Alabenthos, clearly pleased.
You are both bonded together until I will the bond to dissolve.
Harald, you cannot escape Exeros. The bond shall inform him at all times where you are, and act as a natural conduit for him to travel to your side no matter how you may seek to remove yourself.
Further, it shall grant him an intuitive understanding of the state of your soul.
The moment he deems you insufficient, he has my full permission to destroy you.
“I deem insufficient,” snapped Exeros. “There. So I shall—”
The weight of Alabenthos’ regard grew so pointed and heavy that Harald sagged beneath it, his legs straining to keep himself upright.
Exeros winced and raised two scarred palms. “A jest, Lord Alabenthos. It was a fucking jest.”
Good. That your humor is returning is a salutary sign. Now. This audience is finished. Return to your companions, Harald. Your training is finished and you all leave for the next level today.
Harald met Exeros’ dark, withering stare. “Welcome to the team.”
The child angel snorted with sublime disgust and rose into a small mote of ivory light once more to float just over and behind Harald’s shoulder.
Harald could sense it there, like a source of soft illumination. No, not soft: faint. Even now, in his mote-form, Exeros radiated contempt and disdain.
“Thank you for your trust, Lord Alabenthos.” Harald inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Now that I’m fully welcomed into the company of your loyal servants, I’ll take my leave.”
Alabenthos said nothing.
But Harald could still feel the weight of his regard right up until the moment he quit the vast hall.