The Tears of Time
Realm of the Dead
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Raphael took off, his wings flapping in time with a cacophony of others. Gabriel flew beside him, his brow still furrowed in despair. Ambriel was also with them; recovered enough to set off once more, her face similarly troubled. They flew together with a fleet of fifty, non armed, but all perfectly deadly.
The landscape passed beneath them in a blur of colour, changing from the white of the city’s buildings to the green of the fields, then, as the land dropped away at the cliff edge, the deep blue of endless sky. They crossed the barrier between realms without slowing, the drag of the transition lingering uneasily as they moved into the Realm of the Dead. Raphael grimaced as the realm began to suck at his soul, pulling at his wings, transforming them into lead weights which cried out for the dry ground that flew past below them.
Dust blew in cycles into their eyes, picked up from the dead ground by the chill wind which howled across the empty space like some raging creature. The land stretched before them, completely flat as far as the eye could see, drained completely of moisture and life. Opposite to the Realm of the Immortal, the Realm of the Dead was dim; the tones of colour limited to greys and muted browns.
But the landscape wasn’t empty. To the observant eye, dim figures drifted without purpose through the air, features wavering out of distinction. Some were almost unsubstantial, their features utterly blurred through age, the soul belonging to the mist having forgotten their own image. These were the ones completely without purpose, their direction dictated by the wind or instinct.
Others had sharp features, though to someone who had known them, they would seem oddly wrong. The mental projection often differed strongly from the original, representing how the soul felt, rather than was. Often thrown into sharper contrast or inhumanly beautiful were these figures. But age would soon wear away these faces. Raphael ignored the souls below, finding that their faces reminded him too much of his own distant bloodlines, left long behind.
Something snagged in the air, and the army halted as they caught on a snare, a barrier left invisibly to warn inhabitants of intruders. Gabriel flung up a hand, sensing the strength of the spell with unease.
“We’ll wait. Lucifer will already know of our presence,” he commanded, his voice quietened by the howling wind.
Raphael swept forwards, testing the barrier himself. It was strong, making the shimmer slightly as his palm pushed against it. It was tangible, a slimy texture which slipped away when pressure was exerted, but left a feeling of unease across the skin. It prickled, and Raphael backed away, returning to where Gabriel and Ambriel held council with a number of others.
“We ought to carry on, otherwise Lucifer will hide Elanor and we’ll never find her,” worried Typhus, a young warrior on the angel’s counsel, widely known for his rash actions.
“It would not be wise to face the devil on his own turf,” Ambriel cautioned.
“We’re already on his turf,” Typhus shot back. Ambriel’s jaw tensed at the jab, but she kept her mouth shut.
“There is some sense in what Typhus says,” Raphael pointed out, flying to Gabriel’s side.
“It’s true,” Gabriel answered, his normally light grey eyes dark with worry.
“We should at least send a group ahead,” Typhus continued, “Someone who knows her, perhaps a Seeker. And a Caster, to disable any further snares, although I doubt Lucifer will have anymore past this one.”
“A suicide mission,” Ambriel mumbled under her breath. Typhus heard and glowered back.
“No, it is a sensible plan,” Gabriel said, stopping the argument before it cycled.
“Remember seekers seem unable to track Elanor.”
“That’s true.”
“Raphael knows her, does he not?” Ambriel asked.
“Yes, but only by sight. I am the only one to have seen her physically,” Gabriel replied.
“Well, as you cannot leave us, send Raphael and I to seek her,” Ambriel suggested. Typhus narrowed his eyes, a glimmer of hurt pride that Ambriel would not suggest himself as a Caster.
“What about a Caster?” He asked, after a moment’s silence.
“I would send you, but we need our strongest here,” Gabriel sighed, mentally running through their thin ranks.
“Sir?” asked Dina, a young angel whom many seemed to admire. Gabriel had always ignored her, in order to try and stop her from becoming self-absorbed. Though her casting skills were widely renowned, he had never seen them put under examination.
“Yes Dina,” he nodded, curious.
“I’m afraid of fighting, but I would be happy to offer assistance with the snare,” she said, her honesty startling Gabriel. He blinked, realising that he must have underestimated her humility.
“Would you show me?” he asked, motioning towards the currently invisible barrier. Dina nodded, flying smoothly over towards the snare, her slight figure swaying forward in the air as she came to a halt.
The army watched, all intent on the female’s quiet form. Dina closed her eyes, trying to forget the eyes that were watching her. She reached out with one hand towards the barrier, pushing against the resistance. Her hand slipped in slowly, until she could feel the spell writhing around it. She frowned as the resistance intensified, the unease spreading up her arm and into her chest.
“Stop” she whispered, angelic speech falling softly off her tongue. The barrier tensed, the spell frozen against her word. Light travelled out from her hand, the barrier crackling with blue lightning, solidifying with a crackle. Colour filled the barrier, now a solid blue cracked glass structure, blue lightning frozen in time. Several angels gasped, surprised by how fast she worked. Gabriel simply watched, his curiosity not breaking his self discipline.
Dina began to glow, her figure displaying a blinding white light as she gathered her inner power. It shone brighter and brighter, till for a second it seemed to reach out for metres surrounding her. Then it was released, and the barrier shattered with an ear splitting shriek, the blue lightning suddenly moving again, banished from existence by the light which spread like fire throughout its physical struggle.
Dina sagged momentarily from the expenditure, then straightened up, flying back to where they stood, an expression of apprehension on her face. She ignored the other’s awed expressions, concentrating on Gabriel’s reaction. His face was unreadable, watching her with that same curiosity which had asked her to try the barrier.
“I think we may have ranked you wrongly,” he stated, smiling slightly, “Well done. If you would accompany Raphael and Ambriel, I would be most grateful.”
Dina nodded, an expression of pure joy radiating from her face. Gabriel hadn’t realised how much his silence had effected her. Ambriel took her hand thankfully, gripping it tightly in gratitude. Dina smiled back, glad to have escaped the fighting.
“With your consent, we’ll leave now Gabriel,” Raphael said, watching the distance.
“A good idea my friend,” Gabriel replied, thinking hard, “Don’t return here if you should find her. Return to the citadel instead, and we will see you there.”
Raphael nodded, motioning to Ambriel and Dina to follow him. They set off together, speeding quickly into the distance, soon out of sight. Gabriel turned from watching them, to order the host quickly.
“Angels!” Typhus called, the ragged group turning to listen. “Our priority is to distract Lucifer’s forces whilst our smaller group tries to find Elanor. Do not endanger yourself without reason. Stand to attention!”
The ranks snapped together, warriors and seekers towards the front, casters ready at the back. Typhus nodded in satisfaction, and began to fly the ranks, speaking words of encouragement and advice with the voice of a knowledgeable opponent. Gabriel stopped watching him, returning to gaze at the distance, the horizon clouded with merged souls, forming a clouded transition from ground to scorched sky.
As he watched, dim black dots began to appear, gaining size as they moved quickly towards the host’s current situation. Gabriel turned to warn Typhus, but he was already aware, standing next to him with a grim satisfaction evident on his face.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Raphael took off, his wings flapping in time with a cacophony of others. Gabriel flew beside him, his brow still furrowed in despair. Ambriel was also with them; recovered enough to set off once more, her face similarly troubled. They flew together with a fleet of fifty, non armed, but all perfectly deadly.
The landscape passed beneath them in a blur of colour, changing from the white of the city’s buildings to the green of the fields, then, as the land dropped away at the cliff edge, the deep blue of endless sky. They crossed the barrier between realms without slowing, the drag of the transition lingering uneasily as they moved into the Realm of the Dead. Raphael grimaced as the realm began to suck at his soul, pulling at his wings, transforming them into lead weights which cried out for the dry ground that flew past below them.
Dust blew in cycles into their eyes, picked up from the dead ground by the chill wind which howled across the empty space like some raging creature. The land stretched before them, completely flat as far as the eye could see, drained completely of moisture and life. Opposite to the Realm of the Immortal, the Realm of the Dead was dim; the tones of colour limited to greys and muted browns.
But the landscape wasn’t empty. To the observant eye, dim figures drifted without purpose through the air, features wavering out of distinction. Some were almost unsubstantial, their features utterly blurred through age, the soul belonging to the mist having forgotten their own image. These were the ones completely without purpose, their direction dictated by the wind or instinct.
Others had sharp features, though to someone who had known them, they would seem oddly wrong. The mental projection often differed strongly from the original, representing how the soul felt, rather than was. Often thrown into sharper contrast or inhumanly beautiful were these figures. But age would soon wear away these faces. Raphael ignored the souls below, finding that their faces reminded him too much of his own distant bloodlines, left long behind.
Something snagged in the air, and the army halted as they caught on a snare, a barrier left invisibly to warn inhabitants of intruders. Gabriel flung up a hand, sensing the strength of the spell with unease.
“We’ll wait. Lucifer will already know of our presence,” he commanded, his voice quietened by the howling wind.
Raphael swept forwards, testing the barrier himself. It was strong, making the shimmer slightly as his palm pushed against it. It was tangible, a slimy texture which slipped away when pressure was exerted, but left a feeling of unease across the skin. It prickled, and Raphael backed away, returning to where Gabriel and Ambriel held council with a number of others.
“We ought to carry on, otherwise Lucifer will hide Elanor and we’ll never find her,” worried Typhus, a young warrior on the angel’s counsel, widely known for his rash actions.
“It would not be wise to face the devil on his own turf,” Ambriel cautioned.
“We’re already on his turf,” Typhus shot back. Ambriel’s jaw tensed at the jab, but she kept her mouth shut.
“There is some sense in what Typhus says,” Raphael pointed out, flying to Gabriel’s side.
“It’s true,” Gabriel answered, his normally light grey eyes dark with worry.
“We should at least send a group ahead,” Typhus continued, “Someone who knows her, perhaps a Seeker. And a Caster, to disable any further snares, although I doubt Lucifer will have anymore past this one.”
“A suicide mission,” Ambriel mumbled under her breath. Typhus heard and glowered back.
“No, it is a sensible plan,” Gabriel said, stopping the argument before it cycled.
“Remember seekers seem unable to track Elanor.”
“That’s true.”
“Raphael knows her, does he not?” Ambriel asked.
“Yes, but only by sight. I am the only one to have seen her physically,” Gabriel replied.
“Well, as you cannot leave us, send Raphael and I to seek her,” Ambriel suggested. Typhus narrowed his eyes, a glimmer of hurt pride that Ambriel would not suggest himself as a Caster.
“What about a Caster?” He asked, after a moment’s silence.
“I would send you, but we need our strongest here,” Gabriel sighed, mentally running through their thin ranks.
“Sir?” asked Dina, a young angel whom many seemed to admire. Gabriel had always ignored her, in order to try and stop her from becoming self-absorbed. Though her casting skills were widely renowned, he had never seen them put under examination.
“Yes Dina,” he nodded, curious.
“I’m afraid of fighting, but I would be happy to offer assistance with the snare,” she said, her honesty startling Gabriel. He blinked, realising that he must have underestimated her humility.
“Would you show me?” he asked, motioning towards the currently invisible barrier. Dina nodded, flying smoothly over towards the snare, her slight figure swaying forward in the air as she came to a halt.
The army watched, all intent on the female’s quiet form. Dina closed her eyes, trying to forget the eyes that were watching her. She reached out with one hand towards the barrier, pushing against the resistance. Her hand slipped in slowly, until she could feel the spell writhing around it. She frowned as the resistance intensified, the unease spreading up her arm and into her chest.
“Stop” she whispered, angelic speech falling softly off her tongue. The barrier tensed, the spell frozen against her word. Light travelled out from her hand, the barrier crackling with blue lightning, solidifying with a crackle. Colour filled the barrier, now a solid blue cracked glass structure, blue lightning frozen in time. Several angels gasped, surprised by how fast she worked. Gabriel simply watched, his curiosity not breaking his self discipline.
Dina began to glow, her figure displaying a blinding white light as she gathered her inner power. It shone brighter and brighter, till for a second it seemed to reach out for metres surrounding her. Then it was released, and the barrier shattered with an ear splitting shriek, the blue lightning suddenly moving again, banished from existence by the light which spread like fire throughout its physical struggle.
Dina sagged momentarily from the expenditure, then straightened up, flying back to where they stood, an expression of apprehension on her face. She ignored the other’s awed expressions, concentrating on Gabriel’s reaction. His face was unreadable, watching her with that same curiosity which had asked her to try the barrier.
“I think we may have ranked you wrongly,” he stated, smiling slightly, “Well done. If you would accompany Raphael and Ambriel, I would be most grateful.”
Dina nodded, an expression of pure joy radiating from her face. Gabriel hadn’t realised how much his silence had effected her. Ambriel took her hand thankfully, gripping it tightly in gratitude. Dina smiled back, glad to have escaped the fighting.
“With your consent, we’ll leave now Gabriel,” Raphael said, watching the distance.
“A good idea my friend,” Gabriel replied, thinking hard, “Don’t return here if you should find her. Return to the citadel instead, and we will see you there.”
Raphael nodded, motioning to Ambriel and Dina to follow him. They set off together, speeding quickly into the distance, soon out of sight. Gabriel turned from watching them, to order the host quickly.
“Angels!” Typhus called, the ragged group turning to listen. “Our priority is to distract Lucifer’s forces whilst our smaller group tries to find Elanor. Do not endanger yourself without reason. Stand to attention!”
The ranks snapped together, warriors and seekers towards the front, casters ready at the back. Typhus nodded in satisfaction, and began to fly the ranks, speaking words of encouragement and advice with the voice of a knowledgeable opponent. Gabriel stopped watching him, returning to gaze at the distance, the horizon clouded with merged souls, forming a clouded transition from ground to scorched sky.
As he watched, dim black dots began to appear, gaining size as they moved quickly towards the host’s current situation. Gabriel turned to warn Typhus, but he was already aware, standing next to him with a grim satisfaction evident on his face.
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