Interlude
The Beginning
Yuriel ascended the ranks swiftly.
For years he had trained upon the clouds of Sanctuary, honing his body into a blade.
It had been promised that the future of all angels was preordained. That they would come to understand their purpose with great clarity, and feel solidified in their path.
A Soldier was forever meant to be a Soldier. A Herald, a Herald. Their role would never change, for to change would be admitting to a mistake.
Which, of course, an angel never made.
And yet there was not a day that passed where Yuri did not doubt himself and his decision. He dreamed of heartbeats fluttering to life beneath his fingertips. Got lost in his thoughts imagining what training as a Guardian might be like, and where he’d be now if only he’d chosen that path.
But perhaps it didn’t matter what he wanted. Perhaps all that mattered was what he was good at.
And it turned out that he was very, very good at killing demons.
He and Sabriel rose through the ranks faster than any angels before them. They were prodigies. Partners. Two of the finest young Soldiers that Sanctuary had ever seen.
He was glad, at least, that this path had allowed him to keep Sabriel close. Glad he was able to watch firsthand as he grew from a boy to a man who could fell any beast.
Yuri had grown immensely fond of Sabriel, though sometimes, every now and then, it irked him to realize just how much natural talent his partner had.
Yuri held no rival when it came to his bow, but Sabriel could pick up any weapon and master it within the day.
An annoying skill for someone like Yuri, who trained after hours each night to be where he was.
Sabriel, of course, never even had to try.
He found new opportunities at every corner as their fellow Soldiers gravitated toward his laughter and confidence.
Yuri tried desperately to claim some of those skills for himself, wishing for even five percent of the ease in which his friend navigated the world, or to feel even for a day what it might be like to have everyone gravitate toward him instead.
There was, at least, one talent that Yuri held over the other angel—his mind.
Sabriel could not focus as Yuri did. It was impossible for him to sit still without quickly becoming distracted, his thoughts often wandering off to strange, distant places.
Xadriel claimed he was too curious, and in an effort to get the angel in line, he’d started doubling the number of missions they were given.
In preparation for one of those missions, Yuri looped a satchel over his shoulder and secured the strap with a sharp tug.
He stood in his room, one hand checking the buckles while the other ensured that each weapon was secure.
He tapped the hidden blade beneath his shirt for good measure, his own personal ritual to assure himself that this mission would be as smooth as any other.
The only thing missing was, of course, his partner.
Yuri took his seat on the edge of his bed, counting the minutes until Sabriel hurriedly ducked into their room, an apple clamped between his teeth as he hopped in on one foot.
He wore a single boot, the other swinging from his hand.
His silvering hair was wet, droplets still clinging to his jaw as he fumbled with the straps of his belt.
Yuri was already exasperated. “You’re late. Again.”
“Not late,” Sabriel argued, the words muffled between his apple. “Right on time.”
He sighed. “Do I even want to know where you’ve been?”
“Swimming.” Sabriel cinched his blades against his thigh, then ensured that the sword draped across his back was secure before letting the apple drop into his hand.
It irked Yuri just how charming his grin was. “Yes, I can see that. Swimming where is the question.”
“Then no, you probably don’t want to know.” Sabriel smiled and drew one of his daggers, a beautiful crystalline piece he’d been gifted after completing his training.
Yuri hadn’t been gifted one. Even though he had graduated the same day, with a score just one point shy of Sabriel’s.
“Ready?” Sabriel asked, wings outstretched and flexing as he warmed them up.
Yuri rolled his shoulders, then clasped his friend by the shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Valeriel arrived not a second outside of schedule. The Herald appeared from thin air, silver hair twisting about as if caught in some unseen breeze.
Yuri remembered a time when that hair had been as red as fire. A time when her eyes had been silvered, before they’d lost all their color.
He had no idea how the angel could still see. She had no pupil. No iris. And yet she looked upon them as she entered.
“My favorite Soldiers. It’s always good to see you two.” She smiled, and though Yuri knew it shouldn’t, the sight of her unnerved him.
Heralds were strange folk. Some never lost their eyes, but others like Valeriel seemed to be perpetually caught in another world. Forever seeing. Forever sorting through messages no one else could hear and visions no one else saw.
“Your task today is to hunt down and eliminate a gluttonborn who’s been terrorizing a small mortal village,” she told them. “The townsfolk have been disappearing for months, and recently they’ve discovered human bones in the forest surrounding their homes.”
Sabriel tossed aside his apple core, beginning a series of lazy stretches. “Just one demon? That should be quick enough.”
Yuri agreed, although gluttonborn were a rare sort, having turned from mortals who ate human flesh. Seeing them always made him queasy. He set a hand on the quiver at his back, the touch reassuring.
One thing was certain—the world would be a better place without such a monster. The sooner they found it, the better.
“You’re to be mindful of the humans,” she noted. “No contact other than what’s absolutely necessary to ensure the kill.”
“Of course,” he agreed while Sabriel stretched his arms above him with a groan. “Let’s get a move on before the demon gets any hungrier.”
Valeriel extended her hands, and both the men took one. Yuri shut his eyes against the image that greeted him—an expansive forest covered in thick oaks. A peaceful glade with sunlight glimmering off its surface.
A village was nestled in the near distance, rounded, thatched huts clustered together like mushrooms. He inhaled, and suddenly the air carried the scent of herbs hung out to dry.
The angel imagined himself there, feeling the warm breeze press against him. The heat of the sun, and the way his skin felt sticky beneath it.
By the time he opened his eyes, he stood in the exact spot the Herald had shared with him, squinting beneath the brightness filtering in through the trees.
It was a beautiful day, the birdsong soft and the breeze welcomed. And yet there was something else in the air, too. A darkness that made his stomach uneasy, miasma making the air thicker.
“This place reeks of demon.” Sabriel stood beside him, his squinted eyes scanning the trees. “It can’t be far.”
They started forward, following the faint trail as the forest grew tighter around them.
Yuri maneuvered carefully through the underbrush, his wings tucked in tight, feathers ruffling with every low-hanging branch that scraped too close.
The forest here was dense, and he grimaced as another twig raked across his shoulder.
Light. He cursed inwardly as he brushed his hands down his wings, smoothing down the snags. Why are there always so many trees?
Sabriel had taken the lead, silent and sharp-eyed, his usual bored slouch replaced with a predator’s focus. The miasma coiled through the roots like smoke. The air, too, had turned sour. Yuri could taste the taint of demon on his tongue, like spoiled meat left to rot.
Sabriel stopped without warning, lifting a hand. Yuri followed his line of sight, breath stilling as he spotted it—just ahead, down a shallow incline and partially hidden by undergrowth, a gluttonborn slunk between the trees.
Its back was hunched, body slick with a grayish film. It sniffed at the air like a hound, clawed fingers flexing at its sides. Skin hung from its bones in loose folds, stretched too thin in places and sagging in others. A grotesque mimicry of the human it’d once been.
But the demon wasn’t alone.
In the clearing beyond it, maybe thirty paces out, a woman stood beside a small, moss-covered cottage, singing as she gathered fallen branches into her arms. The hem of her dress brushed the forest floor, her dark curls coming loose from where they’d been gathered beneath a kerchief.
She wiped a veil of sweat from her forehead, and the light caught the curve of her cheek.
Sabriel drew a sharp breath, and Yuri could see why.
The woman was beautiful. Raven-haired, with a wild, windswept kind of grace, as though the forest had shaped her from sunlight and birdsong. Her cheeks were flushed from labor, and there was something unreasonably lovely in the way a curl slipped loose to kiss her temple.
She moved like someone written into the roots of the world, as if the trees knew her name and the wind bent to greet her. Her steps were soft and her presence so captivating that she felt like a spell given shape. Even the light lingered on her longer than it should have, reluctant to let her go.
She hadn’t yet noticed the creature stalking her mere feet away.
The gluttonborn watched with a gleam in its eyes, so focused that it failed to see the two angels creeping closer.
Yuri’s fingers brushed over fletching as he drew an arrow from its quiver. He crouched low, nocking it to a bow of light that shimmered faintly in his hand.
“It’s going to get her,” Sabriel warned, voice edged with something that sounded like panic. “Yuri—”
“I’ve got it.” A few more steps, and he’d have the perfect shot …
“Send the arrow now!”
The woman’s song had softened to a hum, her voice drifting like smoke as she wandered deeper among the trees, arms full of wood. The gluttonborn shadowed her, weaving between trunks as she did, getting closer.
Yuri exhaled, lining up the shot.