Chapter 39 - Promise

For a moment, everything was still. The ringing in Lazar’s ears quieted, but no sound escaped Nero’s open jaws. The demon’s gaze flitted wildly about, moving from cliff face to Ciel to Lazar before finally landing on the halberd pierced directly through his heart.

The silence broke. A gurgling sound rose from his throat, followed by a trickle of blood.

Lazar yanked the halberd out and jumped away just as the demon collapsed onto the ground.

Dust rose from the point of impact, rising in shifting clouds, and stray rocks and rubble cracked beneath the demon’s weight. His limbs twitched, clinging to the last vestiges of life before, finally, he fell still.

For a moment, chest gasping for breath, Lazar simply stood over Nero’s unmoving form and stared at his corpse. The demon’s eyes had remained open to the very end, and that flat yellow once again flashed dark green.

The seraph squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his shaking hands to steady themselves. When he opened them again, there was no trace of the color left. But the brief image of it, the ghost of Julius’s visage in place of the demon’s dead body, lingered in his memory long after the image had left his vision.

Lazar exhaled, finally loosening his grip on his halberd. Slowly, he strode over to the collapsed demon, listening for any signs of life. When he found none, he crouched down and carefully closed those massive eyes. Even then, Nero didn’t look particularly peaceful—not with a mane and fur matted with red, warped and shattered limbs, and a mouth still drawn into a snarl.

The seraph clasped his hands together and chanted the passing prayer. In front of him, the white light of the realm gate was a constant, watching beam. He ignored it, focusing his mind entirely on the words.

Once he was done, he rose and turned. Ciel strode past the columns and spikes now littering the formerly smooth ravine floor. She was wiping blood from her lips, one of her hands bloody and coated with a few stray chunks of flesh. After Nero was killed, she’d probably ducked into the tunnels to consume the last corpse they’d prepared. Had he really prayed for so long, Lazar wondered.

Golden eyes met his, and for a second neither of them spoke. Then the flesh eater raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Done?”

A laugh bubbled in Lazar’s throat, a little hysterical, but with it came a crashing wave of relief, too. His shoulders finally relaxed. It was done. The path to the realm gate now stood clear, and bright strands of essence glimmered in his vision. A hand moved to his chest, and even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he could’ve sworn he could feel the added warmth in his soul.

Ciel stepped closer, coming to a stop beside him. The flesh eater eyed the gate with a detached sort of disinterest, and she raised an arm, waving it over her face. The moment her hand passed over, the skin rippled, surging upwards and smoothing back down until her single curled horn was gone from view. She did the same with the mass of eyes on the left half of her face, though Lazar noted that the skin there resisted manipulation much more. It took significantly longer to get them to smooth over.

“There.” She lowered her hand. “The eyes might pop back up depending on how full my reserves’re, though.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face and grinned. “Well, long as I don’t move too much, the hair’ll keep them out of view if I fuck up and the eyes come back.”

She was hiding her demonic features in preparation for ascension, Lazar realized. The first plane was primarily occupied by humans, and they likely wouldn’t take kindly to a demon walking around freely.

Reality slowly began to settle in. They were going to ascend. They were going to leave the Abyss behind. One step closer to Elysium.

“You got anything you need to do? You already look pretty human.”

The seraph shook his head after some consideration. “No, I—”

Movement flashed in the corner of Lazar’s eye. He jerked around, halberd already raised. The silver blade swung across the air, freezing halfway when his gaze shifted downwards and met familiar brown.

Lazar furrowed his brows, movements stilling.

“Leon?”

The boy stared up at him, then at the end of the halberd. He swallowed, but stuck his chin out defiantly.

“You should stop swinging that thing around so willy nilly.” The stubbornness and faint hint of disdain were unchanged, his voice dead serious, and Lazar found himself shaking his head in equal parts amusement and disbelief. He lowered the weapon, but his eyes continued to scan their surroundings.

His gaze landed on Cassius, standing quietly within one of the cave entrances, just outside the boundaries of the ravine itself. He must have escorted Leon here, Lazar thought.

The demon simply stared ahead. He wasn’t watching them or Leon. His blue eyes remained trained on Nero’s unmoving form, standing as rigid as a statue, facial expression unmoving. Lazar frowned at the sight. He hesitated, unsure whether or not he should approach the demon. He was, after all, the one who had killed Nero.

A tug on his sleeve made him turn, and the seraph glanced down to see Leon shaking his head.

“Let him be,” he muttered. He was quiet for a few moments, then the corners of his mouth turned down into a scowl.

“You were gonna leave without telling me,” he said, pointing an accusing finger straight at Lazar. The seraph blinked.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“I didn’t think you would wish to see me again,” he answered truthfully.

“What? Why?”

Lazar opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. His eyes darted to the markings. The dark, jagged black lines had spread to the boy’s knuckles by now, and traces of them poked out from his collar, slowly beginning to wrap around his neck. Soon they would reach his face.

A brief silence fell over the ravine. Leon, Lazar saw, was staring at the realm gate, brown eyes moving between the pillar of light and Nero’s fallen silhouette with growing disbelief and awe.

“...You really did it,” he muttered. His gaze snapped back up to the seraph, sharp and burning, and he leaned forward a little. “So you’re really gonna ascend now? You’re gonna go back to Elysium?”

“That is my goal, yes.”

Something passed through the fallen boy’s face, a rapid shifting of different expressions that Lazar couldn’t read. Then, suddenly, Leon stepped forward and blurted out, “Can you take me with you?”

In the stillness that had overtaken the ravine, his voice rang loudly. Lazar stared at the boy, who almost immediately stiffened and stepped back again, averting his gaze.

“I—I didn’t mean to say that,” he stammered, shifting his weight around. “Forget it, I know my soul’s not strong enough and—and even if I could, I’d probably just end up opening a tear in the first plane or something.”

As Leon continued to uncharacteristically stumble over his words, fidgeting more and more, Lazar’s own thoughts stilled. It felt like he was back in the tunnels, watching the boy shrink in on himself without knowing what to say or do, without knowing what could possibly make things better.

Gleaming gold against glowing red walls flashed in his memory. Perhaps, he thought, this wasn’t the time for doubt. Perhaps it would be okay to act without a plan, purely on instinct, just this once.

He steadied himself, and after a brief pause of hesitation, he bent down and carefully hugged the boy.

It was an awkward, uncertain movement. At first Leon went rigid and the seraph nearly stepped back, an apology already on his lips, when he felt small hands latch onto him, hugging back hard. Leon buried his face into the seraph’s shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the blood and dirt caked there. Even though his posture remained somewhat stiff, that defiant stubbornness present at every moment, there was a faint, nearly imperceptible shaking in his hands as they clung to him.

“I don’t want to die,” Leon muttered, very very quietly, and Lazar squeezed him tighter.

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing that could be said. In that moment, the boy seemed smaller than ever, the weight of both of their markings an unspoken connection between them. Neither of them had had any choice in their fates, left to the whims of other people. And to the fallen, drawn into an inevitable downward spiral, there was nothing left but bitter acceptance.

Everything had changed for them. For Leon, falling meant the destruction of a soul before it ever had the chance to grow and flourish. He would never know the life he could have lived. For Lazar, falling was the destruction of the life he’d thought he’d known.

Even if he made it back to Elysium, it wouldn’t be the same realm he remembered, nor would he be the same person. Ever since falling, a small part of him had held onto his old memories, had stubbornly refused to face reality. He had been pursuing the Elysium of his old life as his ultimate goal, Lazar realized, but that place didn’t exist anymore—had perhaps never existed in the first place.

He couldn’t keep chasing after ghosts. When he stepped into that light, it had to be in the face of the future.

As Lazar held onto the other fallen, he allowed grief and loss to settle over him, both his own and Leon’s. He closed his eyes, patting the boy’s back soothingly, and allowed himself to mourn everything that had been and would be lost.

Finally, after what felt at once like hours and like mere seconds, Leon pulled back. His eyes were a little red around the edges, but they sparked more fiercely, more brightly, than ever.

“You have to make it to Elysium,” he said, voice hard. “No matter what, you have to make it. Promise.”

When Lazar spoke, there was no hesitation in his words.

“I swear it.”

It was for Leon’s sake, for the sake of every fallen awaiting a forgone conclusion, and, most of all, it was an oath he made to himself.

—

Lazar stepped forwards, past Nero’s unmoving body, towards the gate. Behind him, he could feel Leon’s gaze burning into him from where he stood beside Cassius within the caves. The seraph kept his steps even and steady as he walked.

Ciel was waiting by the light a few feet away from the deceased demon, who looked the same as before. Her eyes were unreadable as she watched him, and Lazar’s own gaze passed over Nero’s fallen form.

“…You’re not going to eat?” he questioned. He’d never known the demon to demonstrate any discernment in regards to what she did and did not consume. Considering how strong Nero’s soul was and the boost in power she would likely receive, he found himself a bit surprised that she hadn’t already devoured the other demon.

Ciel’s golden eyes landed on Nero, lingering for a long while before they shifted over to Cassius at the cave entrance. The demon still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t torn his eyes away from Nero's unmoving silhouette.

After a brief pause, Ciel turned away.

“Too much of a hassle,” she said, but there was none of the usual drawl or mocking in her voice. She sounded flat. Disinterested. Lazar studied the demon for a moment, then nodded, the corners of his mouth tugging up a little.

“I see.”

The flesh eater waved dismissively, gesturing towards the realm gate.

“If you’re done, we’d better get going before another demon shows up.” She absently ran a hand over the area where her horn had been, raising an eyebrow. “Better hope no one’s on the other side of the gate, or explaining’ll be a pain.”

Lazar nodded in agreement, and he stepped forward as well, coming to a stop just outside the light.

For a moment he simply stared up at it, at the twisting essence coiled around in dense chains and strands. He inhaled, and air filled his lungs. His gaze shifted upwards, tracing the light where it disappeared into wine red clouds. Even beyond his view, he imagined it continuing upwards, threading together the realms of the world, climbing all the way up to Elysium.

He still remembered the burning radiance from when he’d fallen. This time, he didn’t force his mind away from the memory of Julius, but focused on it. Not on the seraph he knew from his younger years, the one he’d thought he understood, but on the Julius who’d spoken with unfamiliar, icy green eyes. The one who hadn’t hesitated to sentence his soul.

Lazar’s fingers tightened around his halberd, and as he stared up at the sky, for a second he imagined the other seraph staring back.

That Julius was the one he would face.

Lazar pulled his eyes away and nodded at Ciel. And then, with a final breath, he stepped forward into the light.