Chapter 1 - Overture I

Breathing was always harder on the first plane. Julius’s lungs felt constricted, the air thin and insubstantial. The first time he’d visited here, back when his wings were shaky and rough with bare patches, his parents had called it a weakness—a sign of his privileged upbringing in a realm where essence was plentiful.

The two of them had been distant, looming figures that he’d constantly had to look up to back then, and in the stark glow of their pure white wings backdropped by grey skies and barren branches, he’d taken their words as gospel.

Now that he equaled his father in height and his wingspan had grown even longer than his mother’s, he knew better. Though there’d been some truth to their words, the sensation was far from exclusive to him. All beings who descended realms felt that same pervasive hollowness, an indescribable lack of something that could only be put to words when a chant was uttered and they found the strands of essence thin and frayed.

Julius yanked his sword out of the demon’s abdomen, and even that motion cost more energy than it should. The blade didn’t slide smoothly, but caught on hard bones. The wound it left was jagged and imperfect, its edges soon obscured by spurting dark liquid that fell to the barren earth mere seconds before the limp corpse followed it.

He didn’t stop to watch it land, though the splat of flesh meeting hard earth rang loudly to his heightened senses. Beating his wings, he surged upwards, blade raised to meet the next enemy.

These demons were weak, barely strong enough to have clawed their way up from the depths of the Abyss to the first plane. Their sheer numbers, however, posed a problem to the native humans here, a vast majority of whom were incapable of using magic. That was why he’d been sent there to take care of them as a dutiful seraph should.

Julius jerked to the side as a demon lunged at him, maw gaping, the creature’s teeth snapping around air mere inches away from where his shoulder had been. A flesh eater. He didn’t see those too often; usually the demons who managed to ascend were of the soul eating variety.

He slammed the pommel of his blade into the creature’s nose, and it made a satisfying crunch before the demon fell backwards. A second swing was enough to bisect both it and the imp-like demon beside it. Julius sighed and glanced behind him at the realm gate.

True to the bleakness of the plane, the first plane’s gate was situated in the center of a rocky, barren field of muddy browns and greys. By foot it appeared endless, but high up in the sky, the constant chill of the wind biting against his skin, Julius could make out a distant forest of twisted, sharp branches to the north and a small village of crooked shacks bordering the trees. The buildings, too, were as colorless as everything else on the plane.

Every time he descended here, the sky was always overcast. Julius didn’t know if it was poor luck on his part or if the reduced amounts of essence also damned the realm to poor weather. His eyes narrowed.

The gate itself was a simple pillar of ghostly light rising infinitely into the clouds, a glowing line that linked together all the planes from Elysium down to the top of the Void. Around that streaming light, a horde of demons coalesced and marched towards the town. The flying ones soared ahead, crawling creatures dragged themselves over the earth, and the walking demons strode forward in jerking steps, putting as much distance between him and them as they could. Perhaps they were smarter than Julius had given them credit for.

The seraph raised his free hand, allowing his perception to expand with an ingrained ease. Across his vision, tangled strands of essence materialized, weaving together to form the fabric of the realm. In Elysium, the essence was so thick that those strands covered all of the surroundings, rendering everything into a silhouette of light. Here, in the first plane, they were sparse and thin, so loose that it was easy to pull one aside and bring it into his soul.

Almost immediately, his shoulders relaxed. Although it was only temporary, the added weight of essence was welcome after the constant hollowness he’d felt in his soul since arrival. He opened his eyes again. Converting the essence took more effort here and there wasn’t enough for anything too advanced, but it was more than enough for a pack of fleeing, barely ascended demons.

A deep forest green light bloomed from the center of his palm, stretching outwards until it touched the earth and engulfed the land the horde stood on. His mouth moved instinctively, the chant as easy as breathing. One of the demons spun around, but it was already too late.

Julius snapped his fingers.

For a second the wind stilled and the clouds froze. And then, as though roused from a long slumber, the ground quaked.

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Deep cuts expanded across the surface of the earth, tearing apart to form a wide chasm beneath the feet of the demons. A cacophony of shrill and rasping screams reached Julius’s ears. The flying ones tried to escape, but instead they met pillars of earth that shot out from the edges of the chasm, spearing the demons on sharpened stone and soil. Those pillars kept stretching until they met, fully enclosing the space to form a mound of earth.

Julius didn’t hesitate to pull a second strand of essence towards him, converting it and muttering a second chant towards the dirt prison. The sounds of struggle and muffled squelches died down, and it was only when the quiet returned that he lowered his palm again.

Satisfied, the seraph landed on the ground, his wings spread wide to soften his descent. From here, the sheer scale of the mound was obvious. It towered over the plains, casting a long shadow everywhere but the gate, which remained fully illuminated. Julius frowned. Perhaps he’d overdone it. But no matter; smoothing the earth back down was a simple task for him. Besides, he thought, it might be good to be a little more flashy today, with his induction ceremony so close. He raised his hand again.

Movement flashed in the corner of his eye. Julius jerked backwards, instinctively raising his sword, but the demon never reached him.

A blast of wind surged across the open field, pushing back clouds of dust and dirt with a pure, ringing whistle. The wind condensed together into a sharpened blade of air, and it sliced straight through flesh and bone until the demon was nothing more than a pile of bloodied strips. Quick and clean. Each piece was the exact same size.

The wind died down again, and Julius sighed and lowered his blade.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

The silver haired seraph who’d appeared didn’t respond, simply smiling and flying over.

Unlike Julius’s wings, Lazar’s were longer and thinner in shape, the feathers pointed in sharper angles. Resting casually across his shoulders, the pure silver metal of his halberd gleamed in the realm gate’s light. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or a stain on it—the weapon was just as pristine as it was the day Julius had first gifted it to him. Lazar claimed it was because it was of such high quality, but Julius had seen the man cleaning and polishing it to perfection well into the hours of night. Like most things Lazar did, it was an action that had no particular ego to it.

The other seraph hovered closer, those stark white wings flapping steadily a few inches above the ground. Julius watched the movement with amusement. Lazar always flew everywhere he could, even if walking would be easier. When his feet did finally touch the ground, the pale armor of his guard uniform clinked slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Julius waved dismissively. “Things were simply… messier than anticipated.”

Lazar chuckled. Raising a hand, his own palm glowed silver as he muttered a quick chant. A soft breeze encircled them, bearing none of the sharpness of the wind that had just sliced the demon into shreds. The air pulled away the grime and dirt, leaving behind only the most stubborn of stains. Julius recognized it as a variation of the usual cleaning chants Lazar used. Down in the lower planes, it was better to stick to the primal elements when manipulating the thin essence, which meant other types of chants had to be substituted.

Julius straightened his clothes. The crisp fabric and high collar felt stiff and constricting, not at all helping his breathing, but he had to remain presentable. It was better than Lazar’s uniform, he supposed. He always thought it looked cumbersome to walk with so much armor on, even if the other seraph never gave any indication of weariness.

“Thank you,” he said. Lazar beamed.

“If you’d like, I could teach you the chant. It would be easy for you to learn.”

Julius just hummed. He didn’t say that he didn’t see the point in learning when Lazar was almost always around. There were better uses of his time.

Instead he asked, “What’re you doing here?” This was supposed to be a solo assignment, one in a long string of missions leading up to his ceremony. It had been a year now since these had begun, and he still couldn’t quite believe that the ceremony would finally happen in a month. The thought was enough to make his head reel.

Lazar looked sheepish. “The lord and lady asked me to watch you.”

Julius’s eye twitched.

“Of course they did.”

“They’re just worried about you,” Lazar hurried to say. Julius didn’t bother responding. They’d had this conversation more than enough times already, and even if Lazar would never dare say it out loud, both of them knew his parents sent him to make sure he was following orders, not out of any real concern.

Julius turned towards the gate, ignoring Lazar’s worried look. The pillar of light continued to stream into the grey clouds, undisturbed by the battle. He muttered a quick chant and the mound fell back down, burying the dead demons deep beneath the surface where their bodies would rot until their souls were released back into the Cycle.

“Let’s head back,” Julius said, already stepping forward. “It’s hard to breathe down here.”

He didn’t bother looking back, knowing Lazar would follow. He heard the other seraph mutter a quick prayer before joining him by the gate, and Julius winced. He always forgot to say the passing prayer. To be fair, he didn’t think demons would particularly appreciate it anyway.

Lazar nodded at him, and Julius stepped forward into the pillar of light. He inhaled, savoring the feeling of essence flowing into his soul as he ascended upwards to Elysium.