Chapter 48
Iwoke up to a soft knock on my door. I rolled over, smiling through my sleepiness, only to frown when I saw Quazar wasn’t still in my bed. I sat up and found a note perched on the twinight stand. I snatched it up, reading it over seven times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
My Starling, part of the agreement was to stay away from a certain Granfifi when she inevitably Ascended.
Looks like our little slice of paradise was caught by a few tattle-telling Farasees.
Don’t look for me, love. I promise nothing good will come of it.
And for what it’s worth, not only I regret nothing, but mark my words.
I will do it again. A taste of you is insufficient.
I will devour you for a lifetime, and I still won’t be satiated. I love you infinitely, my Safah. —Q
My breaths came in short spurts. I was hyperventilating. My hands trembled as I stumbled to my door, pulling it open. I was already crying when Ellabeth surfaced on the other side.
“Sazu, what’s wrong?”
Her bright, aquamarine eyes were flooded with panic. I shoved the note at her chest, slipping to my knees. My tears turned to sobs, then flat out wailing. Stars, what would they do to him?
“Stars,” Ellabeth hissed, falling to her knees beside me. She held me at the threshold of my door.
“What happened?” Isandra’s voice was sharp with concern. There was a moment of quiet. The rustle of Quazar’s note. Then.
“This accursed temple!” she seethed. “This can’t be the good.”
Hands that didn’t belong to Ellabeth brushed my hair.
“Safah, I am so sorry. I swear if there was anything we could do—”
“There isn’t,” I whispered. “I don’t know where they’ve taken him. I’ve checked the bond. It’s gone dark. It does every time they have him.”
“Stars,” Isandra whispered.
“Ellie, why were you at my door?”
Ellabeth was quiet.
I snapped my head up, barely able to see her through my tears.
“Ellie…”
“Titombwe,” she whispered. “But the Talons are gone.”
My eyes fell shut. My hearts pounded in my chest with terror. In warning. I took a shuddering breath.
“I’ll get dressed.”
I pushed to my feet in a zombified stupor, unable to clear my vision due to my endless tears. A tremor shook my bones as I wordlessly turned from my friends, entered my room, and closed the door.
As if in a daze, I washed myself, got dressed, and grabbed my sandals without bothering to check my appearance in the mirror.
In the hall of the wingtower, I met up with the rest of Seventh Choir. All of them wore long frowns. Kazemir and Daelun’s eyes were blazing.
“They did this on purpose,” Kazemir seethed.
I flinched, so unused to him having any kind of verbal response.
“Sending us to enjoy ourselves in the Citadel only to bring us together and publicly crush us the next dawn. The Farasees are sick.”
Seven star gates surfaced in the hall as if on cue. I felt ill.
“See you on the other side,” I said to no one in particular. Then I flew through the star gate, until it spat me out into the massive arena, already filled with millions.
I searched up and down for my family, trying to find where they were sitting so I could be with them. I squinted, hunting for any sign of starry ethèr bleeding out as a sign of the Anathelles. I could find none.
An eery, sinking feeling settled in. As I flew to my seat among Seventh Choir, I realized the difference. The last Titombwe, the angels had been lively. Exuberant. They’d been talking, laughing, dancing.
Not this dawn. As I settled between Ellabeth and Isandra, the stark difference hit me like stones falling in my gut. The angels were as silent as open graves.
Scores of angels filled the arena to the brim.
Some even hovered in place because there were no seats left.
I noticed the Shifters weren’t present. None of the Dragèth or Pagali were present.
There were no Faerèth either. No Neriphim or Taetàn Giants.
Come to think of it, there weren’t even Gods.
There were only angels in the arena, mainly of Seraphim rank.
My mouth turned to sandpaper.
I sat quietly between my friends, waiting out the start of Titombwe. My nerves were shot as I glared at the dais, waiting for someone, anyone, to get this started.
Granmanmi Asarah finally surfaced, floating to the center of the glass-laden dais, her eyes a churning pool of dark purple storms.
“I know that look.”
Seventh Choir, and several from the other Choirs in Incense Order, turned to look me, eyes widening.
“Mhm,” Ellabeth hummed, studying Granmanmi. “She’s pissed.”
“And is about to make someone pay,” I finished.
I had a feeling I knew who her target was. I stepped into my mind, poking around the veil between Quazar and I. The veil was sealed tight, our connection cut off. I could still sense his shadows, but that’s as far as he’d let me go.
Whatever he was dealing with, he’d pushed me completely out so he could deal with it alone. I worried my bottom lip. Began bouncing my knee, unable to sit entirely still.
“Wings high, angels of Ouanaviel.”
“Wings high!” the angels chorused.
I didn’t join in. Neither did Seventh Choir.
I studied Granmanmi. She looked perfectly serene. Her ivory robes had been pressed to perfection. Her hair was beautifully done. She even wore a small, pleasant smile.
But I knew my Granmanmi.
She was an Anathelle.
Anathelles told truths with their eyes. And hers looked ready to burn half this empyrean to the ground.
I sat straight, keeping my wings ram rod tight, tucked into my spine. My starfire churned, ready to be drawn on. As if this dawn, blood would be shed and power would be the only way to survive.
Granmanmi immediately spotted me. Her lips bowed into a frown when she caught my lack of response.
She tilted her head. Even with the distance between us, she did a once over of my body, searching, scanning, as if she was standing directly in front of me.
So often I’d felt nothing but warmth and safety in her presence.
Now I felt violated. Trapped.
And I hated it.
She paused a long while, her eyes piercing into me. She was quiet so long, the angels began murmuring, until heads began turning my way when they noticed where she was looking.
Fire blazed a trail up my neck as ice chilled my spine. An entire arena of several million angels turned to stare at me. Because of her.
Everyone turned except for Ellabeth, Isandra, and the rest of Seventh Choir. Like me, they only had eyes for one angel. Granmanmi Asarah.
“To our dear angels of the Ouanaviel Empyrean. You’ve made the sacrifice of being present for such a needed Titombwe, where we need to make an egregious wrong, right.
And as you can see, the recent events of what occurred at Temple Efysis has even sorely affected my Granfifi, Safah Anathelle.
A name I know this empyrean won’t soon forget.
It will be burned into the sands of every island of this empyrean as she rises to carry the torch of mending endless wrongs done by our greatest enemies, the Fallen and their Fallenspawn. ”
“No rotting way,” Ellabeth hissed below her breath. “She did not just…”
“Yes. Yes, she just did,” I said.
My fury now matched the rolling storms in Granmanmi’s eyes. She spoke out over Titombwe, but this dawn, I knew. She had an audience of one. This Titombwe mass was to send a message. And it was directed to one angel. Me.