Chapter 13 Nizzus #2
Gabe’s mother launched into the sky with a surge of light and air, her wings snapping wide with a force that sent a gust sweeping through the square.
The brightness of her feathers caught the sun, reflecting in silver arcs that danced across the courtyard as she rose between us and the threat above.
Her flight wasn’t just practiced—it was commanding.
There was no hesitation in her, no tremor in her flight.
She moved with the authority of someone trained to command the skies.
“I’m the Archangel in control here,” she called out, her voice strong, unwavering, laced with an authority that would make every wyvern’s instincts recoil whether they wanted to or not. “What is it you want from us?”
Gabe stood just ahead of me, his gaze fixed upward, lips slightly parted as his breathing quickened—subtle at first, then tightening with every second that passed.
I watched his chest rise and fall in an uneven rhythm, every breath sharper than the last as his mother hovered between us and the Dominion.
He wasn’t blinking.
I knew that look. The one where your mind races to all the worst possibilities, faster than you can stop it. He wasn’t just watching an Archangel stand her ground—he was watching his mother confront something that could destroy her with a single word, and she hadn’t even flinched.
Her voice had stayed steady, her wings unmoving as she faced the Dominion down, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. Not for a son who’d already lost too much.
Gabe’s jaw tightened, a rough breath catching in his chest before he turned slightly away from the group, his shoulders drawing in.
Steele noticed, and without a word, he stepped closer and reached out, his hand coming to rest gently on Gabe’s shoulder.
It wasn’t a dramatic gesture, just a steady, grounding touch.
But Gabe leaned into it almost immediately, the tension in his frame easing by fractions as he closed his eyes for half a second, like he needed that point of contact to keep from unraveling entirely.
The Dominion hadn’t moved.
He remained suspended above the courtyard, his massive wings still stretched wide. But the silence deepened, the air tightening as if even the city knew to stay still beneath his gaze. His voice dropped, no longer a command shouted from on high, but something colder. Measured.
“The Archangel who usually governs this territory,” he said, the words echoing with unnatural clarity, “was due to submit his monthly report three days ago. Yet there was no notice. No explanation or communication for why it hadn’t come.”
His tone didn’t rise, but the veiled threat was unmistakable in his words.
“A report has never been missed.”
The silence around us seemed to fold inward, as if the very buildings of Alfemir were listening.
“Now I arrive,” the Dominion continued, his gaze sweeping once more across our group, catching each black-feathered wing with deliberate pause, “and I find fallen angels standing openly in the castle of Alfemir.”
The pause that followed wasn’t long, but it felt like it stretched.
“Clearly,” he said, his tone turning sharp, “something is amiss.”
Gabe’s mother flew forward, her wings still flared at her back. Her voice started to rise in reply, clear and level. “With respect, Dominion, this territory is under my—”
The Dominion lifted one hand.
There was no spell, no chant, no visible channel of energy. Just a shift in the air, a snap of pressure, and a sudden crack of force that struck so fast I almost didn’t see it. Light erupted around her, a blast that shattered the stillness and flung her backward through the air.
Archangel Astor hit the ground hard enough to skid, her wings collapsing beneath her as her body slammed into the stone. A rush of dust kicked up from the impact, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if she was conscious.
Holy shit.
The Dominion’s voice lashed down a beat later, sharp and unyielding. “Be quiet. You are not in charge. I can sense that.”
The second Astor hit the ground, Gabe was already moving.
He didn’t hesitate. No thought for danger.
No pause to consider if the Dominion might strike again.
He broke from our group at a full sprint, boots slamming against stone as he dropped to his knees beside his mother.
His voice was rough, panicked, words too low to hear clearly as he pressed a hand to her back, checking for breath, for movement—anything.
I watched as she shifted slightly, dazed but alive.
Relief rushed through me, sharp and fast, but it was already tangled with something else, because Kieran moved next.
My Fire surged upward without a word, wings snapping wide, power gathering so quickly the wind around her stirred. No one had a chance to reach for her. No one could stop her once she was airborne. Her body cut through the air like a blade, rising toward the Dominion with furious purpose.
And then the sky shifted.
A wall of white wings and armor shot upward from the far side of the courtyard, rising in synchronized motion.
Alfemir’s angels—dozens of them—burst into the air in a single sweep, climbing fast to intercept her path.
They formed a barrier between her and the Dominion with impossible speed, rows of bodies aligning like a shield across the sky.
I froze.
For a heartbeat, it felt like the entire world did too. None of us could process what we were seeing.
These were the same angels who had stood at the edges of our battles. Who had turned their backs when the Rebellion bled. Who had, until recently, stood in silent agreement with every order the upper triads had ever given.
And now they were standing between us and a Dominion.
Protecting us.
Protecting her.
Kieran stopped midair, caught just short of the line they had formed. The wind still tugged at her hair as eyes scanned their ranks, confusion and disbelief flickering across her features.
One of them nodded to her in respect.
Slowly, she dropped back down to the ground, the wind easing as she landed near us once more.
The moment her feet hit the ground, Ronan stepped in close on one side, and I moved in on the other.
I didn’t speak, but my hand brushed against the curve of her back—a steadying point of contact.
She didn’t look at either of us. Her focus was still skyward, as if trying to make sense of what had just happened.
And then a voice rang out over the castle grounds.
“You are not welcome here if all you want is bloodshed.”
Mithrie’s voice cut clean across the space, strong and deliberate. The Elementalist instructor floated above the others, sparks curling faintly along her arms as she extended one hand toward the Dominion.
“We will protect our own,” she said. “If you’d like to discuss our new leadership and governing laws, then you are welcome to sit with us for a meeting.”
The Dominion laughed, and the sound of it had my lips thinning. It was an evil sound, curling low with contempt as it rolled across the space.
He wasn’t attacking–not yet, but he was reminding us exactly what stood in front of us—what kind of devastation he could unleash if he chose.
He didn’t need to move. He simply existed above us like a storm that had already decided where it would strike.
But then, the shape of the sky changed.
More wings filled the air. Not just the first wall of angels who had shielded Kieran, but more behind them, lifting upward with unwavering precision. White feathers and gleaming armor flooded the horizon, and they weren’t alone. The Beast Tamers arrived next, rising with their creatures.
A pegasus with wings of polished gold burst into view first, muscles bunching and stretching beneath a coat that shimmered with power.
Flames followed in a slow, spiraling arc as a phoenix glided past on a draft of heat, its ember-feathered tail trailing sparks in its wake.
And then a gryphon soared just above the rooftops, its cry splitting through the hum of elemental build-up, every beat of its wings carrying the promise of force if the line was crossed.
Tamers continued to flood the sky, their bodies glowing with tether magic, control lines looping around them in intricate, flickering patterns.
The Elementalists joined next, summoned by no call but their own sense of duty.
They stepped into place atop ledges and training platforms, conjuring power like they had been waiting their entire lives for this moment to arrive.
Wind twisted at their backs, building into tight, controlled cyclones that curled upward like reaching fingers.
Flames pooled in slow-building spheres between outstretched palms. Water pulled itself from cracks in the stone and gathered around their bodies like armor, glistening and controlled.
Lightning snapped like static along the edges of cloaks, not wild, but waiting.
They were no longer fighting to protect a hierarchy. They were protecting people. Us.
The realization pressed into my chest with slow, dawning weight. This wasn’t some passive neutrality anymore. Alfemir had chosen where it stood—and for the first time in my lifetime, it wasn’t beside the triad. It was beside us.
The Dominion’s expression didn’t falter, but I saw the shift in his posture. His wings curled in, just slightly, the taut lines of his body flexing with what might have been restraint, or the beginning of something worse.
But he didn’t strike, instead, he let out another low laugh, darker this time.
“Very well,” he said, his voice spreading across the courtyard. “I will return. And when I do, you will sing a different tune… when the first triad stands beside me.”