“What could have done all this?” Whistled a police officer as he stepped over thick shards of steel and into the large corridor filled with debris, ash, and a crater of molten metal. “One hell of a war went on down here, huh?” He continued and pushed his cap up away from his eyes.

“I didn't think a place like this would have ever existed under the old hospital.” Another responded while examining the heat marks around the entrance. “This... laboratory I suppose certainly wasn't built overnight. I wonder if it's been here since before the regional was constructed within the city.”

“If it was, it has definitely been renovated. Walking through here makes me feel like I'm on the set of the next Star Wars movie or something.”

“How can you two be-” A third officer gagged and covered his mouth for a moment. With a green face, he swallowed hard and coughed, “How can you two be so calm?”

“Hm. It might be a bit scary for a rookie like you to think about, but as awful as it is, you get used to this sort of stuff. Still, though, those kids back there being chopped into pieces would make anyone sick if they stick around too long. It is without a doubt a horrible sight. I can't even begin to guess what kind of weapon could have caused this much destruction and still be carried away from here before we arrived.” The first answered.

“That's not for us to figure out. We've secured the scene, made sure no one else was here, and that no culprit was within the vicinity. It'll be up to the detectives to try and figure out this mystery. That being said, I have a feeling we've stumbled on something far out of the hands of our police force.” The second commented.

The third took a deep breath and kept his stared up towards the ceiling. “I get the impression the chief would be right at home in a place like this.”

The other two turned to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

“I haven't had much time to get to know him, but it seems like ever since his kid died, he's been inching closer and closer to the edge. Other than when he fell ill, he hasn't taken any sick time at all, not even compassionate leave. There are always bags under his eyes now as well and he hasn't listened to anything anyone else has to say. He either talks over them or acts like they're not there. Him wanting to talk to the suspected dirty cops, them not showing up the next day but instead us finding the same number of bodies in the park? Given the way he's been acting as of late, it just seems like he'd fall in love with this evil laboratory place.”

“That's enough of that.” The first snapped lightly.

“But-”

“I hear you, however, never bring up that subject again. Especially not when everyone else arrives. I have no problems with the chain of command but I have no interest in becoming a puppet for revenge by that man. He's got a lot of friends in high places though, hence why he's still able to get away with it. If you try and fight it, you'll have your feet swept out from underneath you. There's a process to this stuff and unfortunately, it's above your pay grade. Just do your job and pray that you don't wind up in his way by mistake.”

“This guy certainly looks like he's had better days.” The second thought aloud, drawing his companions over to him. The third recoiled and quickly turned away as he saw the semi-headless corpse in a bloody lab coat. “I don't think I even want to know what was used to crush his cranium. That would not be a very fun way to go.”

“Does he have any ID on him so that we can figure out who he was?”

“Let's see...” Both of them squatted down on either side of him, pulling their latex gloves taught. They silently searched his pockets, one of them mumbling incomprehensibly as he fished out the man's wallet. “Ew. Shit's even drained into his wallet so I can't read everything. First name Raymond, although I can't make out his last name.”

“Raymond? Well, whoever he was, it doesn't mean much now.”

“Seriously...” The third gagged again. “How can you two do stuff like-, huh?”

“What's wrong kid?”

“I'm... not sure.” He answered and the other two exchanged glances before following him. The three of them encircled an ebony rod just beside a crimson puddle. “This material doesn't match anything else in this place.” He stated then reached for rod before yelping in pain and jumping backward. He started waving his hand through the air then blowing on it while observing his steaming fingertips that began to blister. “I didn't feel any heat coming off of it but the moment I touched it, I felt like I had stuck my hand in an oven on full blast.”

“It isn't discolouring or heating the metal around it either.” The first commented as he ran his hand beside it.

“You think they were researching some new kinds of weapons here and someone came to try and steal them?” The second pondered.

“Nothing else would make more sense to me by this point.” The first then moved his attention to the puddle. “We didn't pass anyone who was bleeding on the way here, did we?”

“Not that I saw.”

“I can't imagine a puddle this large being made while moving. Someone must've been passed out here for a little bit.”

“Perhaps they were dazed from blood loss and wandered into the forest while looking for help? I can go look for them, I'd like some fresh air anyway.” The third exclaimed.

“Not happening.” The first barked. “While we don't know if there are any hostiles in the area, I'm not having anyone go off on their own. Someone has to stay here until the detectives arrive so either one person stays here and two go search, or two stay here and one goes. Either way, someone would be left without a partner to watch their back. All of us will stay here.”

The third dropped his shoulders and squeaked, “Understood.” His eyes lit up for a moment and he pointed into a nearby pile of debris. “What do you suppose dropped that?”

They followed his gaze and collectively gawked at a massive, pure white feather that glistened under the fluorescent lights. “Maybe it's related to the not-burning rod?” The second suggested.

The first sighed sarcastically, “I see now, the new weapon they created is a six-ton pelican that drops atomic turds.” He slapped himself and massaged his temples, “They better get here quick, I need a drink. This shit's too complicated for me.”

* * *

“Damn it,” Sandalphon spat as he resisted every urge to wince. “That vile woman.” He pushed up the sleeve of his snow-white robe, revealing countless bruise-like markings going up his arms. Under which his veins were black as coal and visibly pulsed. “Just what exactly were those needles she kept throwing at me?”

“What's wrong?” Someone asked him from behind.

His entire body tensed and he hurriedly pulled his sleeve down, turned around, and held his arms behind his back. “Who's there?” He barked.

Standing in the doorway of his silver hut was a man almost as large as he was with long golden hair and sky blue eyes. He donned azure robes that seemed to repel space itself and straw sandals. He kept his hands hidden within his attire and smirked as eight glimmering wings shrank into his back. “How do you do, kind sir?” He mused.

“Eight... You're... from the Swan clan. What business do you have with me?” Sandalphon barked and took a defensive stance. “You just being here can get me in a lot of trouble you bastard!”

The stranger canted his head and his smirk grew wider. “What with that? Is a puny familiar such as yourself going to throw me out? Don't get cocky with me just because your trivial creator gave you and you alone emotions.”

“Don't dodge the question. We angels aren't permitted to speak with members of the Swan or Dragon clan. Why seek me out?”

The man's teeth cracked together and his eye twitched. “You have some nerve referring to yourself as an angel you counterfeit.”

“It's what we're called whether you like it or not. Now answer me!”

The man laughed through his teeth and leaned against the nearest wall with his arms crossed. “Well, whatever. It won't be long now before I never have to see your face again anyway. I just came here to confirm that fact for myself.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you get sent for reformation, I'll open the way to your precious 'graveyard'. Once you get there, seek out the priest's journal. I'm sure it'll have all the answers you need for what comes next.” As he gave his final sentence, a twister of dust surrounded him.

“Oi!” Sandalphon yelled and reached for him but only clawed at the air. He grunted in frustration towards the now empty space, “Rotten son of a bitch...”

“Sandalphon.” Someone else called out in a calm but booming voice. A different man who wore plated, brassy armour and kept his face covered dropped in front of Sandalphon, wrapping himself in his four wings. “Father wishes to have an audience with you.”

Sandalphon's heart skipped a beat and he dipped his head down, avoiding eye contact. “I'll make my way to the palace immediately then. Oh, but brother...”

“Yes?”

He hesitated. “It's nothing. I think I just found the answer for myself.”

“Very well then. Let us be off.”

* * *

Why are there so many of them? Sandalphon thought to himself as he was escorted down a red carpet, encapsulated within a series of thick, golden pillars. Lining the perimeter were four rows total of other four-winged angels, each with their faces covered. The forward-most rows on either side each held long-swords with silver blades and brass hilts in front of them, their tips into the ground, and their hands resting on top of the handles. Behind them all the others held spears of the same material in their right hands, blades pointed towards the ceiling. Not one of them looked him in the eyes as the one who retrieved him walked directly in front of him and two lancers walked along either side of him.

A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and he screamed internally, They didn't see the Swan, did they? I tried to ask before but couldn't think of a clean and innocent way to do so. He eyed everyone as he passed them but none returned his gaze. He looked ahead to see a massive, jewel-encrusted throne where a man with six wings, wearing white robes impatiently tapped his finger on the armrest.

The group stopped just before the steps leading to the seat and the two lancers disappeared from Sandalphon's peripheral vision. Before he could react, the handles of their weapons were driven into the back of his knees, forcing him into a kneeling position. The cutting of wind filled his ears and their sharp blades crossed under his throat, pushing his chin up. The brass chains that hung from his shoulders, neck, hips, ankles, and wrists all shook violently and pierced the ground, pulling themselves taught. He grunted as his body was locked into an uncomfortable position and the man atop the throne stomped his foot down. “Show them to me.” He commanded with an outstretched hand and two of the swordsman stepped forward, pulling Sandalphon's sleeves up past his elbows. “Losing to that blood-sucker brat was one thing but I thought it was suspicious that you got pushed back by a mere bird. At first, I just shrugged it off as one of the Sentinel's lackeys being well trained and resourceful. It would seem I was naive. I thought that the metal created from his flames would disperse with his death but here you are now. Your wounds from 'Hades', as he's come to be called, have already long healed but those from the Raven still riddle you like a plague.”

The chains rustled and echoed in the chamber as Sandalphon pulled on his restraints. “These scratches are nothing Father. They wouldn't even slow me down in the slightest. I can still-”

The two lancers removed their blades from his throat and in a flash, stabbed them into his shoulders blades, their tips extruding through his chest. He screamed in agony and tried to keel over but the chains prevented him from doing so. “I didn't say you could speak.” The six-winged man growled and nodded to the lancers who pulled back and stabbed Sandalphon in either calf, erupting another cry of pain. “You disappoint me, my son. No, you are not even worth calling that anymore. You're just a broken tool with no sense of reasoning.” A swordsman grabbed Sandalphon by the mouth, forcing him to be silent. The man sighed and leaned back in his throne. “You were created from my flesh and blood, to be one of my model soldiers who would respond to me decree unwavering. That accursed metal however is something of a conflict in existence to us. Once pierced with it, our bodies would try and reject it but we're immediately tainted like it's a poison that seeps into our bones. Not only do the wounds from that grim anomaly never heal, our bodies tear themselves apart in an attempt to cleanse, destroying us from the inside. You'll never fight at your full strength again, hence, you are a broken tool. Don't worry though, for you can still be of use to me. Like any other tool, you can be broken down then scavenged for parts which can then become a new body.”

Sandalphon tried to beg through the swordsman's hand but only a series of inaudible muffles could be heard. The six-winged man stood up and spread out his arms. “For now I shall send you to the pits of Hell where you will await reformation and be made anew.” As he spoke the floor behind Sandalphon collapsed, revealing a giant stone circle surrounding a crimson whirlpool. “Ah, but this time though, I don't think I'll give you emotions nor the freedom to make your own decisions. All it did was make you complacent and argumentative. When next we meet, may I be able to call you my son once more.” He finished with a chuckle and a mock bow as the lancers simultaneously kicked Sandalphon into the pool below. The man grinned and started to sit down again only to be startled by a flash from the hole. He gritted his teeth together and ran towards the edge of it, peering down.

Standing on the rim of the portal was a man with eight wings in blue robes, smirking up at him. “It's been a while, Balbh.”

“Muin...” The six-winged man, Balbh, growled. “What are you doing here? I haven't operated outside the boundaries of our deal.” He barked confidently but avoided eye-contact all the same.

“Don't be so cold.” The eight-winged man, Muin, replied slowly as though speaking to a child. “I didn't come here to cause any sort of trouble or scold you for wreaking havoc down on Earth.” Balbh recoiled and all of the other angels tightened their holds on their weapons. “You said you were throwing that one away so I just figured I'd take him off your hands. One man's garbage is another man's treasure, as the humans say. You don't mind, do you? You have lots of servants and could make another fairly easily anytime you please right? It's not like you haven't gone down to contend with the demi-humans yourself because you're incredibly weak or anything like that right? Making another one of these counterfeits should be child's play for a God of your stature, right?” He continued, his smirk growing with each sentence.

Balbh clenched his fist and bit his tongue. “Do what you want.” He whispered, his skin becoming glossy.

“Well, thank you kindly.” Muin bowed with a chuckle. “I bid you adieu and a good day.” He vanished in a shallow flash and the floor began to repair itself as a dumbfounded Balbh stared at the carpet in complete silence.

After several minutes, he took a deep breath and yelled, “Someone bring me that boy. We'll be using him sooner than I originally planned.”

* * *

“We came as soon as we got your letter.” Idel hurried through the door, Nao sitting on his shoulder. “What's Luna's condition like now?”

Aileen shook her head and lead them into the living room. “It's not looking good.”

“See for yourself. I was just on my way up there.” Stella commented and picked up a tray of food. Without waiting for an answer, she made her way up the stairs. Idel and Nao followed close behind as Stella knocked on Luna's door and went inside. “She's still not eating.” Stella sighed with a hint of worry in her voice and placed the full tray down beside a second full tray on her desk.

They all turned their attention to Luna who still laid face first down on her bed, one hand clutching her blanket, the other flat on the mattress. Idel picked it up, got a whiff of the smoke coming off her sheets, and dropped it back down. “She appears to be at her wit's end.” He stated.

“From what Lilly told me, I didn't think Cain had this much trouble with it himself.”

“Cain hadn't already experienced all his own traumas when he was awakening to it, nor did he have to deal with the last thousand years of hatred amidst the human population. Many wars have broken out, many innocents victimized and many criminalized imprisoned. The nature of the hatred is unimportant, she merely feels it all. If I'm being completely honest, I'm surprised she's hung on for this long. I doubt anyone else would have had the mental fortitude to control the blood lust that comes with the Ríastrad or the will to keep fighting the desire to end their own suffering. I'm afraid all that can be done from here is wait to see which is stronger; the universe's hatred or her.”

Nao shivered and knelt down at the foot of Luna's bed. “She's in pain.” She whispered nervously. Stella and Aileen both stood on either side and each grabbed one of Luna's hands, wincing. “Hey!” Nao reached for them, “You'll burn yourselves if you do that. She's letting out enough heat to burn her sheets.”

Neither one of them replied, they only tightened their grips. Idel lightly grabbed Nao's shoulder and shook his head. All four of them watched Luna in silence, anxiously awaiting to see who would wake up.

* * *

“Did'ja give up?” Fearg asked as Luna's head broke through the surface of the muddy water, gasping for air.

“Fuck off.” She snapped and dragged the charred chains attached to her wrist along the riverbed. When she got to dry land, she slapped away a rusted revolver and climbed onto her feet in broken movements as fresh blood ran down her body, staining what was left of her wool dress. She stared through Fearg, eyeing the leafless branches behind her and the filthy assortment of coloured arm-bands that were snagged by them.

“Your restraints can only get so tight before it starts damaging your body.” Fearg mused and leaned against the nearest rotting tree.

“Piece of shit...” Luna grumbled. “I could have talked him down if you hadn't of interfered.”

Fearg flicked her wrist and the black chains snapped, throwing Luna off of her feet and barrelling through multiple tree trunks. When she eventually dropped and hit the dirt, Fearg placed her chin on one hand. “I realize you demi-humans are a lot tougher than regular humans but that flower was bad business. You would have died from the exposure to it long before he would have calmed down. What does it matter anyway? He was just some lowly human like those that massacred your race a thousand years ago. He clearly had no intention of defending you against them so what point would there have been in letting him live?”

Luna got onto her hands and knees before growling, “I only kill if it's my decision. I won't kill just because someone else wants me to and especially not because someone else ordered me to.”

Fearg lifted her head slightly and let out a sigh of relief. “I was really nervous you were going to start spouting some dramatic bullshit about believing in him and giving him a second chance, or that you loved him and wanted to try opening his eyes. I still don't fully understand it though. He was clearly an enemy, what does it matter who wanted him dead? You were going to have to pull the trigger sooner or later anyway.”

Luna laughed painfully, clutching her side. “The hell do you know? You're just some brat who put her nose into another person's business.”

“Well, my memory is still fuzzy but I do now that anyone who tries to use this power ultimately succumbs to my will. The Prince of Ruin saw to that.”

“Who?”

“Who?” Fearg echoed and put a finger on her chin. “The title just kind of popped into my head all of a sudden. I think he's important though.”

“I'm expected to succumb to your will but you don't even have a single answer to any of my questions.” Luna grabbed a branch and pulled herself up. “What kind of sick joke are you?”

One of Fearg's cheeks puffed out and she quickly pointed towards the ground. Luna fell forward and was pressed further and further into the dirt by an immense force. “You talk tough for someone stuck in a world I have complete control over. A few more minutes and I'll have complete control over your body as well.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Before long you'll be surrendering yourself to me so that I can enact your revenge for you. Listen, can't you hear their screams?” She asked with a grin and lifted her ear towards the sky.

“What-” Luna started to say felt a jolt. Her eyes snapped open and she pushed herself onto her knees, looking into her pillow.

“Luna?” Stella asked cautiously, only getting a blank stare in response.

“Can't you hear their screams?” Fearg's voice rang out in Luna's head over and over again and she focused her attention on her window which shattered immediately. Everyone else turned to look at it then looked back at Luna, shocked to see that she had vanished in the blink of an eye. She rapidly jumped from rooftop to rooftop, moving further into the town. Her mind was blank, devoid of anything and everything that wasn't Fearg's mocking tone. She didn't stop until she arrived at the store just across the street from the Butcher's shop.

On the street below, a large mob of men, women, and children alike had formed, yelling into the shattered windows. Luna looked over them, seeing nothing but a dense red fog about them. She jumped down onto the pavement and they fell silent one by one as they noticed her. They watched her suspiciously, backing away as she got closer until they cleared a path straight to the Butcher's door.

She could feel their eyes staring into her back as she entered the building, stepping over splinters from the destroyed shelves and piles of broken glass. In the centre of the floor was a ring of police officers having a quiet exchange. At their feet were two mangled corpses clutching each other. One was large and balding, the other much thinner and had a tail.

“Isn't that just a pitiful sight?” A familiar but tired voice asked. Luna didn't have to look to know that it was the Chief of Police. “It was a lot dirtier than I had hoped it would be, but you didn't make it easy for me.” He grunted and threw down a bloody baton in front of her. “One way or another, I was going to pay you back for what you did to my son. Lucky me, I have all these witnesses here to... witness what you did to these poor people.” Something was pressed into the side of her head, just below her ear. “Luna Cathasaigh, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of...” he snorted, “whoever the fuck these people were. Man and the freak of nature there.” She didn't move nor did she say anything. The world just moved around here. She felt strangely relaxed even as a tear began to well in and sting her left eye. “Oh?” Kent chuckled. “She's resisting arrest boys. Gonna have to get her under control.”

Bang!

The room was engrossed in uncomfortable silence as Kent canted his head and inspected Luna's. He jumped when something fell beside him and took a step back when he saw that one of the other officers had fallen fast first, blood oozing from a hole partially hidden by his hair. He looked at Luna again who not only still hadn't moved, but wasn't even injured despite being shot point-blank. One of the other officers turned the fallen man's head over, revealing a bullet hole perfectly centred in between his eyes. “What the hell?” Kent scowled and all of them yelped as the two bodies from before were suddenly engulfed in a scarlet blaze.

In her mind, Luna heard Fearg laugh, “So, after a thousand years the first trumpet finally sounds again.” Luna's eye-patch smoked and snapped, falling to the floor allowing the tear to fall which left a crimson trail running down her cheek. Kent backed away another two steps from her and pointed his handgun at her again.

She stared him in the eyes... and she smiled.