A God’s Temple was not a place of worship in the traditional sense. Temple once meant a place of worship, certainly, but in the modern meaning, it was a place for heroes to test themselves.
Tradition dictated that every chosen hero of the Light Lands would traverse the temples of the Rakuli, gaining strength and experience in combat, exploration, and puzzle-solving; the most essential skills for any true hero. And the Water Temple was much like its fellows in that regard, to the point that most considered the seashell-topped structure one of the “basic three”, alongside the Fire and Plant Temples.
The temple itself, laid upon Mesa Island out in the bay of Orindaco, was set atop a cliff that Michael entirely ignored by just flying to the top of, and was sealed by a holy door requiring the blessing of the city’s ruler to enter, which Michael just phased through because why in the world would they ever ask Margrave for permission? The human was more tolerable than expected but they still didn’t like her, and besides, time was clearly of the essence.
Such was their logic in completely skipping the temple’s typical puzzles and trials–where the hero would normally go into various rooms encircling a central, sea-themed chamber with a large blue-and-white staircase leading from the top to a hidden door in the floor that would normally only open upon the collection of “water keys” or some other nonsense–in favor of just burning through the supposedly impassable floor door. They could always tell the angels of Mesic to mend it later.
And thus, down they went into the depths of the temple, down a large staircase passing by watery walls painted to resemble the deep sea. Or something like that, at least.
Michael wasn’t paying much attention to the decor, they had better things to do, though they did idly consider if the “boss” of the temple would be a problem. There was always some type of guardian monster in a temple meant to test the heroes coming in, usually far larger than the standard. What was the Water Temple guardian? Some type of…giant fish?
Not that their ruminations actually mattered, as the angel soon discovered when they reached the bottom of the Water Temple.
The vast, circular room at the staircase’s end was once designed to resemble the depths of the sea, built with mosaics in deep blues and blacks mixed with the occasional gleaming yellow meant to resemble the eyes of deep-sea creatures. Now though, the room smelled of rot.
Moss clung to the wall amid jutting ribs and dripping teeth. A single bridge cut through a pair of pools that teamed with life; not mere monstrosities, though there were perhaps thousands of gleaming eyes and open maws in those depths, but beings who stood upon the surface, uncaring of the churning mass beneath them.
Most wore hoods, few wore necklaces and bangles of bones and shells, and none wore shirts, baring scarred chests heavy with fat and muscle in shades of pale blues, grays, one in a pale shade striped with brown. Gills lined the sides of their torsos; they held spears and tridents in webbed hands, and those who did not wear hoods showed quite clearly that they possessed the heads of sharks. Though no shark could ever have the expression of joyous rapture these selachi bore as they stared at the far end of the room where an empty gateway stood. Where the core of the Temple sat, dripping with an unnatural darkness tinged with the reek of saltwater.
“RECLAMATION!” declared the leviathan at the dais. A tattered hood draped over her head, leaving her mouth free and displaying violet skin. “CHILDREN OF FATHOM! FOR TOO LONG WE HAVE BEEN DENIED!
The long sleeves of her dark dress shifted like trails of water as she spread her arms. “DENIED OUR TITAN! DENIED OUR PARADISE! DENIED EVEN THE SUN IN THE SKY! OUR EXISTENCES DAMNED BY THE FECKLESS SHALLOWFOLK AND THE DOGS OF SO-CALLED GODS!
She thrust a hand back, towards the core. Sapphires on silver chains shifted on her chest, shaped like drops of rain in a storming sky. “WE STAND IN THE HALLS OF A TREACHEROUS DAUGHTER, THE RIVER THAT DENIES THE OCEAN! ALL THAT SHE HAS, SHE HAS STOLEN! ALL THAT WE SEEK, WE RECLAIM! IS IT NOT JUSTICE THAT WE CHILDREN RETAKE THIS TEMPLE FROM OUR UNWORTHY SISTER!?! IS IT NOT RIGHTEOUS THAT THE MOTHER STRIKE HER REBELLIOUS DAUGHTER DOWN FOR HER FOLLY!?!
Her followers cheered, spears rising, monsters surging to the surface. A pair of figures stood in the priestess’s shadow, one listening, intent, the other radiating faint amusement. “AS BELOW, SO ABOVE! AS THE FALLEN WHALE FEEDS THOSE BELOW, SO WE TOO GORGE OURSELVES ON THE FLESH OF OUR DEAD GODS! DEATH IS LIFE! LIFE IS GLORY!! DIE WITH JOY FOR OUR PROPHET, FOR HER PURPOSE IS DIVINE!”
The cheers became howls, rabid and zealous, before the priestess’s hand swung around, one finger pointed straight at the angel standing in the middle of the bridge across the water. Zealots flinched, startled by the fiery gaze of the cardinal, who watched the priestess’s lips quirk into a smile.
“Hello, angel of empty life,” greeted the priestess, all zeal vanishing into sardonic amusement, “I was wondering when one of you would arrive.”
“What is this?!” Michael demanded, spear formed and gripped tight in their hand.
“A sermon, shallow creature,” she answered, then placed her outstretched hand on her chest, “My school requires instruction. The word of the prophet must be spoken. Were you listening, by chance?”
"As if anyone couldn't hear such incessant yelling," Michael responded, bringing their spear up in a defensive stance, ready for any zealots who came their way.
"Unsurprising that a shallow creature like you was listening but not understanding. Do you now see, children of Fathom!? This is why we are denied, for they care not for our words! ALL WE WISH FOR IS OUR TITAN, AND YET THEY STAND BEFORE US BRANDISHING THEIR WEAPONS!" With her words, the once startled zealots began to rally again. To the point that some of them began to approach Michael.
"This temple does not belong to you, leave now."
"DEMANDS! ALL THE SHALLOW FOLK DO IS DEMAND FROM US AND EXPECT US TO ASK FOR NOTHING IN RETURN!"
Hm. It seemed the priestess would be quite the annoyance. Tightening their grip on the spear, Michael pulled their arm back, before launching it at the apparent leader of the zealots.
Not that it made it to her, as one of those very same zealots leapt in front of it, catching the spear in his chest and falling back with a cry of “DELIVERANCE!”
A cry that was echoed by the gathered selachi as they all lunged for Michael, polearms swinging and stabbing into the empty air where the angel once stood. No longer though, for the cardinal instead spread their wings and flew above the rabble, forming and throwing another spear in one swift motion–
Or at least they would have, had one of the black-cloaked figures not caught their arm mid-throw.
For any other winged being, having a foe suddenly appear in front of you and prevent your own attack would be cause for alarm, especially given the reality that the angel was far above the ground and should have been out of reach of any leviathan’s servant. But Michael was not any angel and the threat in front of them was clear, so they kicked up, aiming for the interloper’s face.
Their foe was not deterred either though, jerking their head back from the kick and returning with a blow across Michael’s temple that felt as though it rattled something.
They turned with the blow, whirling to unleash a torrent of flames that were blocked by black wings. Feathered wings, not the leathery, bat-like wings of standard demons. What that meant, Michael wasn’t sure, but the devil in front of them was most definitely a threat.
Not the only threat though, as evidenced by the spears that flew from above and nearly ran them through. No care was taken by the zealots to avoid hitting the airborne devil, though they didn’t appear to need to as a spear soaring for the black-winged demon passed straight through the shadows of their robe without impact.
Michael, meanwhile, was forced to move, flying through the fusillade and plunging towards the priestess, spear readied to–
Then the second robed figure grabbed their spear, pulled it past, and punched Michael full in the face.
Momentum worked against the angel as knuckles crunched into their mouth. For a moment, they hung in the air, forced to a complete halt, before the impact sent them flying back, wings spreading in an attempt to slow–
Then the winged devil drove their heel into Michael’s chest and they slammed straight into the Temple’s bridge with force enough to shake the island. It didn’t knock them out though.
No, the winged devil dropping straight down and driving their knee into Michael’s face was what actually sent them into unconsciousness.
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Pain greeted Michael like a familiar friend when they awoke, throbbing merrily in the aches across their face and chest. The pain in their head was not helped by the fact that the priestess was continuing her sermon, loudly speaking about their God's will to all the zealots there. Not that Michael was listening as they immediately tried to rush forward at the priestess.
Only to run face first into an invisible barrier. More specifically, it seemed they had been put in a containment circle when they had been knocked out.
"You know, I'm not sure if you're lucky or not, little one,” the feathered devil from before said, staring down at her as he stood outside the circle, "On the one hand, you're not dead, on the other, well, gods need a sacrifice, no?"
"You should have finished me off when I was unconscious," Michael stated, already trying to see how they could break the circle.
"And I would have! But well, I'm just the muscle, so that's not my decision."
Michael scowled at the feathered devil. “Then whose decision is it? What master do you serve, demon?”
“Demon? What demon has wings this gorgeous, junior?” the devil preened, flaring his wings again and flapping them.
“A vain one, obviously.”
“A vanitas has wings of glass, junior. Not the wings of an angel.”
"Hmph, so your kind not only steals halos but also wings?"
"I see you're not that bright." The cloaked figure chuckled before speaking again.
Michael couldn't help but immediately bristle at him being able to speak Celestial.
He sighed, scratching at his hooded head.
The devil pulled his hood back and for a moment, Michael was genuinely unsure of what they were looking at. They had never seen a demon like him. His skin wasn’t the pitch-black some devils had, but it wasn’t quite…darkness either. There was a light to it, a strange light that was somehow entirely black, casting his features in a strange definition that looked…strangely familiar. Far too familiar.
He looked like Jophiel.
<...what…?>
The…man chuckled, a deep sound that also sounded painfully familiar. He regarded them with eyes that were far too bright, somehow shining despite their blackness, with lines like tears tracing down his cheeks. His hair was long enough to reach his neck and a beard of black light set him apart from the more clear features Michael typically saw on an…an angel of light.
But, that…that can’t be.
“There it is.” He chuckled again, a smile amid his strange features. “I was wondering what it would look like. Mother never told you brats about beings like me, huh? About the Fallen.”
<...That…what?>
He laughed then, amused rather than mocking.
"The bond between an angel and their God is quite sacred, no? If I'm remembering it right, they liken it to a parent and their child, no? To lose such a bond must be devastating, but to break that bond…well, they'd call it a sin."
"W-What do you mean break?" Michael asked, involuntarily taking a step back.
"Come now junior, I shouldn't need to explain it to you. I saw Mother for who she truly was, and I wanted nothing to do with her."
"Th-That…” They shook their head, trying to…They backed up, eyes on the thing in front of them–It took them a second to realize they’d grabbed their own wrist, and they felt the halo there, softly glowing in response to their distress. “Why–If you are an angel, why would you be working with devils that hunt angels!? They–”
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A thought entered their head and they stared at the angel across from them in growing anger and horror. “Are you Blackshore?!”
The laughter that came then was mocking, though it didn’t come from the black-winged angel. No, it came from the other hooded figure, who approached their circle with an amused swagger. “I’m insulted, angel! I really am! You think this jester is me?”
The demon placed a hand on the back of the angel’s head and shoved him down until he was bowing at the waist. “Wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong. I am Blackshore, the Ace of Spades, and the most devout follower of our Lady. Not this trash.”
“Rude,” the angel commented, though he kept his head bowed.
Michael regarded him with some disgust, then looked towards the demon wreathed in true shadows. His hooded robes were stretched oddly, as though he was wearing something on his back. “You call yourself ‘devout’?”
“I do, Cardinal. Far more devout than this…mercenary.” He said the word with contempt, prompting a chuckle from the angel.
“What worlds we live in. Though I’m doing this as a favor, remember, sir? Though the pay’s not bad either–”
“Shut it. I want to speak with the Cardinal alone.”
The angel glanced up at him, then out at the gathered selachi listening to the leviathan’s continued preaching. “It’ll be hard to do that in this kind of room, boss–”
Blackshore shoved the angel down until his head was pressed against the ground. “I told you to shut up, Kozi.”
“Using names now, huh? Alright, I can tell when I’m not wanted.” And from one moment to the next, the angel was standing again, out of Blackshore’s grasp in one easy motion. He brushed off his robe, before regarding Michael with a slight smile. “See you around, junior.”
Michael watched him vanish in a flash of black light, then turned their glare towards the demonic murderer standing in front of them as he straightened. “What do you want?”
“Hm. Alright, I’m fine with ignoring that idiot fallen, though I’m surprised a ‘faithful’ angel would disregard heresy so easily. Then again, I’ve never been impressed by your supposed faith. What god needs to create their own followers?”
“How dare you!”
“I dare because it’s the truth, cardinal. Your kind was born for sycophancy, created to be the perfect servants of egotists. Blindly loyal, foolishly devout, and self-righteous in the extreme.” He scoffed, the sound reverberating in his black helm. “To call you faithful is to demean the concept of faith itself.”
"And you know what it means then?"
"Of course, I did not come into being with faith in Lady, mine was forged after she proved herself worthy of it. Your gods have never had to prove themselves."
"They don't need to, I shall always have faith in my god!"
"Really? Even as you wear the halo of one of your predecessors?"
"What does that have to do–”
"Did your god ever tell you they were still alive?" Blackshore asked, catching Michael off guard. "That halo should be proof enough that they're alive, yet he never once sent someone after them. Even if they were naught but golems, they were still his, no?"
"...Iudex must have had his reason-"
"They begged, not for me to spare them, but for their father to save them. Heh, that was the only thing they said too.” His voice was low and mocking as he stared at them, his face hidden behind the black helm he wore. “What monster casts their own children out into the world to fight for him?”
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” Michael snapped, slamming their fist against the invisible yet far too solid wall formed by the circle.
“I HAVE EVERY RIGHT!” he snarled back, before settling back with a forced calm, “You have no concept of uncertainty, do you, angel? You winged filth spring to life with hymns and prayers at your lips. You have no idea what it is to seek faith! You never had to find a god to believe in, you were handed one! Ah, but what am I saying? I should be pitying you poor creatures, you who have such empty loyalty to feckless deities.
“Do you want to know why I am certain Iudex never once loved you? Because, if he did, he would have created you as a god!”
Somehow. Somehow. Michael restrained the pure rage that threatened to rip its way out of their body. It would do them no good, not while the circle was intact. Their eyes were still burning though, lit aflame in pure hate for the demon in front of them. “And what of you, devil of heresy? What was your kind born for?”
“To seek faith. To find something of our own. And I did. I discovered my goddess! And I serve her faithfully.”
Michael nodded. “So you did. You, the discarded half-thought of a dreaming Titan, discovered a spoiled, capricious creature and attached yourself to her like the natural leech you are.”
“Is that meant to offend me, angel?”
“No. The fact that you think Seeker is worthy of worship is offensive enough. Enjoy the taste of your mistress’s boots while you can, leech, before I burn your tongue from your mouth.”
Blackshore didn’t react openly, but neither did he laugh away their words. Instead, he regarded them with a cold gaze, before letting his head tilt. “Do you want to know where I left that angel’s body?”
“...Is this another attempt at a deal? Your colleague attempted something similar.”
“So that’s a no then. Shame. And here I was, willing to let you revive your sibling.”
“Whatever price there would be, I doubt I would be willing to pay it.”
“How sad. You’re so tightfisted, you won’t even spare some aid to a fellow angel. And here I thought charity was meant to be one of your virtues.”
Michael didn’t reply. Instead, they sat back in the center of the circle with their legs crossed, and took a slow, calming breath.
“What the hell is that supposed to be? You can’t seriously think you can hide the rage you just showed off there, angel. You can’t pull the curtain back now that you’ve thrown it open.”
Michael continued to breathe, slowly and steadily. Whatever heat still remained in the air began to fade.
“You know, it’s funny. You had so many chances to try to put a stop to things here, but instead of checking the most obvious target in the entire city, you traipse around on dates with your little girlfriends. Was that supposed to be you enacting your god’s will? Or are you a half-step away from falling like the black-winged rat you just met?”
No reply. Michael was past that.
Blackshore watched them for a few more seconds, then scoffed. “Fine, keep quiet. You can pretend you’re a bastion of restraint and peace all you want, but we both know better. One thing though. You’d better keep your eyes open when the ‘Speaker of the Prophet’ kicks things off. The only reason I haven’t taken that halo of yours yet is so you’ll see the moment she lets every monster she’s built up in this temple out there to slaughter the citizens of the city you failed to protect.”
Staying silent, Michael began to focus, reaching outward, past the circle, past the temple, and even further beyond the city itself.
"I wonder, will they even be able to put up a fight? This city puts up quite the act, but we all know how mortals truly are-..."
Whatever else he was saying remained unknown as it faded away, becoming silent as Michael found a connection.
<...Huh? You need my help?> They didn't need to act so surprised. Michael had surely asked for help from their siblings before…they just couldn't remember any specific time at the moment.
Michael wasn’t actually going to ask, largely because they forgot Sariel was in the field instead of staying in the heavens. They weren’t about to say that though.
Michael shifted slightly in place. They could hear Blackshore’s tone change slightly as he seemed to think whatever taunt he just made actually registered, but, really, the angel was just trying not to sound too awkward when they admitted to, well…
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“It’s over, Garoti!” Tisma Vlahos, former hero of the Light Lands, declared as she leveled her hammer at the traitorous archduke. Wind whipped through the shattered windows of the zeppelin’s cabin, though the white-haired archduke still stood tall despite clutching the wound in his side. “You can’t win this! The rest of your ships are already crashin’ and burnin’ miles away from the capital! You ain’t gettin’ your massacre, and you sure as hell ain’t takin’ the throne!”
“Rrgh…you godsdamned bitch! You think this is the end for me!?” The bronze-skinned taur snarled, blood dripping from his lips, “I’ve still got my deal with the Seeker!”
“You think that means anythin’!? They’re all demons! The only thing they’d be keepin’ safe is your soul while they let your body die!”
Garoti spat to the side, before fixing her with a glare. “I’d rather take my chances with them then the ‘mercy’ of that…uh…”
He couldn’t really help it as his gaze drifted to the tall, yellow-winged angel at Tisma’s side, who wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. “...Hey! Cardinal!”
Uriel held up a hand finger, their head tilted to the side as they leaned on their halberd. “One moment.”
“...” Garoti glanced at Tisma, who looked a little confused herself, then cleared his throat. “Ahem? Are you, uh…what’s happening over there? You’re mouthing something.”
“I’m not–Wait, am I? Uh, sorry if I’m interrupting, I just–I’m talking with my eldest sibling, there’s some kind of issue.” They waved a hand, their halo glowing as they frowned, not even looking at Garoti. “Don’t mind me, continue what you were saying.”
“...Uh…well, uh, I was going to say I, uh…there’s still enough payload on my grand airship to blow Sona Komottos of the face of the–I’m sorry, it’s just real distracting that you’re not even paying me any mind, at all.”
“No, no, I perfectly understand, it would be distracting. Please, pretend I’m not here.”
Garoti watched as Uriel turned, facing away and continuing their conversation, as clearly shown by the shifting glow of their halo.
“...R-Right, uh…” Garoti took a breath and stood a little straighter. “Vlahos! Even if my new nation might fall, it’s ideals will live on! Sollamava will never know peace so long as–!”
“YOU WERE CAPTURED BY DEMONS!?”
“Oh come on!” he snapped, scowling at Uriel, “You can’t just let me say my piece here!?”
Uriel wasn’t paying attention to the traitorous archduke though, instead moving right over to Tisma. “I’m sorry, I need to go, Michael is trapped by demons and they need help. Do you have things handled here?”
“Oh, sure, I can clean this up just fine. You takin’ Sari too?”
“No, no, Sariel can stay, they’ll help if you need an escape. Um, my apologies again, best of luck to you, Tisma. Please repent of your sins, Siromo.”
“Don’t call me by my first name–” was the most the former archduke managed to get out before Tisma pitched her hammer into his face.
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“–might treat you right, eventually. Lady Seeker does seem fond of you, for some reason.” Blackshore smirked down at his captive cardinal. “Who knows? After some breaking in, you might be happy to wear a helmet just like mine.”
“Unlikely,” Michael abruptly spoke up, ending their silence as they glanced up at Blackshore, “You may choose now to repent your sins and pray for rebirth, demon.”
“...How the fuck is there an angel as arrogant as you? You know your kind are meant to be humble, right?”
“I am well aware. Humility is a virtue. So is honesty, and in all honesty, you are very likely to die in five.”
“Five? Five what?”
“Three, two, one,” Michael finished right as their second youngest sibling rocketed through the ceiling and split Blackshore’s head in half horizontally in one quick pivot with the halberd in their hand. Uriel continued the motion, spinning to drive their halberd into the circle keeping Michael trapped and breaking it entirely.
Michael let a brief smile grace their features as they stepped out and glanced up at their sibling. “Thank you for that. Excellent timing.”
Uriel blinked behind their golden helm. “Oh, well, uh, you’re welcome! Heh, glad I made it on time!”
“Fucking angels,” growled the lower half of Blackshore’s head, his mouth apparently still intact to speak. That and apparently he didn’t need a brain to function. Not unsurprising, admittedly. It was an odd sight though, seeing him speak through the bottom half of a ruined helm. “Fine, I guess I’m grabbing two halos today then–”
Michael’s spear caught him in the chest and flung him across the room where he landed with a heavy splash in the monster-infested waters, causing the leviathan priestess to pause in her sermon with an aggrieved sigh. “So now there are two empty angels attempting to seize our reclaimed halls. How annoying."
"Capture them, let them both become sacrifices to our god!" The priestess declared, before every single selachi in the room, alongside a number of monstrosities from the water, surged towards the pair of angels.
And while Uriel leapt straight into the fray, their gleaming halberd carving straight through some bloated fish demons, Michael summoned another spear. They didn’t jump into battle, not yet, because they had a far better idea.
Namely, to strike down the source of the threat.
So while the beasts and cultists rushed towards Michael, the angel stood firm, their arm drawn back, before they flung the spear forward with a burst of flame. Every selachi was already leaping towards them, so there were none to block their attack this time.
Unfortunately though, the leviathan moved faster than they anticipated, twisting out of the way of the spear as it flew past her. “Hm, you’ll have to do better than that–”
*Dink.*
The priestess blinked, then turned back too look at the wall behind her. Specifically, the Temple Core fixed into the wall behind her. The Temple Core that was just pierced by a spear of flame.
The spear had gone straight through the core, shattering its surface and already causing pieces to fall to the floor. Hence the ‘dink’ noise, though that was less important than the fact that blue light was spilling from the core with a building intensity.
“...I meant to do that,” Michael lied, right before the core exploded.