Where Spirits Dwell

They were gorgeous, jaw dropping, creatures. All were similar yet all distinctly different. Their faces, their hair, their bodies, all held an inhuman beauty. Yet it was their wings that truly captured attention. It wasn’t the fact that they revealed their divine nature; it was their otherworldly attractivity, that fully charged the enchanting atmosphere that surrounded them.

Their feathers were a pure white and shone with a holy purity. They rose over their backs and dropped to their feet, wings larger than their heavenly bodies. Jiordano imagined what their wingspan was. A glorious moment in time where they stretched across the sky, the sun would bathe them in its light, caressing them, longing for them, one touch…

He realized that he was becoming enamoured, ensnared by their physical charm. It was no wonder the people worshipped them, when even a look could make you shiver in bliss. He believed there was more to this than met the eye, he could feel deception lingering in the air. He thought back to when he saw the Seer, a far superior sight, yet it did not send him into this kind of stupor. As he thought of this his mind began to clear and he viewed them more objectively, beautiful yes, but not divine, he had seen what true beauty looked like and it wasn’t this.

He noticed that while before their seemed like there were hundreds of them; there were only five, a group of uniformed men marching around them, their allegiances marked on their chest and in their colours. He looked over at the girl that had fascinated him before, she seemed just as taken with the angels but there was something else in her eyes, fear. Then he realized that he was in a dangerous situation, these creatures weren’t ordinary and could beguile with a look or a touch; angels or not, he didn’t trust them.

“Skylar! They’re here! The Guardians are-”

He felt his mind get slammed back into its place; the feeling left his body shaking and he gasped for breath. He looked back over at the angels, hoping the procession would soon be over, his cause for alarm unjustified, but he found he was staring directly into the eyes of one of the holy beings.

The angels face was strong and his raven hair framed it perfectly, but a cold hatred in his eye marred his gorgeous, chiseled features.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his powerful voice booming across the wide street.

Jiordano looked around hurriedly, hoping, wishing, that he had spoken to someone else, anyone else. He discerned a brief flicker of dark red around the angel as he strode toward him. That scared him more than anything else, a sinister feeling he had never experienced before flashed through his being when he saw the colour swirl around the man.

He backed up in terror, the man’s very presence intimidated him, but then he remembered all that he been through, his experiences welled up within him, overcoming the fear. He stood up taller, a stance of dignity; this man may be able to take him, but he wouldn’t scare him, Jiordano wouldn’t allow it.

“Halt!” the voice cut through the plaza and its effect was immediate.

The angel stopped, mid rush towards him and turned towards the speaker. It was another angel, her features soft and innocent, long, blonde hair cascaded about her. Yet she held an unmistakeable authority in her bearing, one that clearly outranked the Child of Eden before her.

“But… He has…” the man tried to speak, yet it seemed as if it physically pained him.

“Quiet,” the simple, neutral toned word was all it took to bring an immediate silence to road. The hush was long and intimidating, as if a clash of power had taken place, a clash that the woman had clearly won.

She took a small, graceful step towards Jiordano, regarding him with a thoughtful stare. Then she stepped back and gave a small motion to the guards.

“Take him,” she said calmly, then she added as an afterthought, “And her.”

There was no mistaking who she spoke of, he had already given up on his escape but he looked over at the odd, colour emitting girl to stake out her chances. She stood in a careless stance, as if she was resigned to an unpleasant fate. She wasn’t wrong, escape was not an option, and before he could think anything else, they were both tied up in a rough, no nonsense fashion.

They were prisoners, and there was nothing that he could do about it.