Chapter 27 - The Fallen

Light filled the room, pooling into sharp corners and dissolving hidden shadows. The air trembled, shimmering for a brief second before space itself tore open.

Lazar watched, perfectly still, his halberd resting upright beside him. He didn’t move or react, not at the sight of the rip or at the sudden chill that bloomed from the opening. It grew and grew, its edges widening like a gaping mouth, revealing more of the wine red skies and sharp black stones on the other side.

Kneeling on the ground, the man screamed as strands of light and essence coiled around him, holding him in place as the rip expanded. He thrashed, his head shaking back and forth repeatedly, but the figures in the room remained stoic. No one took a step closer, the humans unwilling to even look the man in the eyes. They were a dark brown color, Lazar noted. Nearly black. Brimming with tears, they took on a glassy texture.

Finally, the rip stretched and engulfed the man entirely, swallowing him into its depths.

Light flashed. The room was blinded with its radiance.

By the time it died down, there was nothing left behind but the marble floor and an empty spot where the man once kneeled. Only the lingering chill, like a winter’s breath, gave any indication of what had happened.

Julius sighed, lowering his hand and straightening his collar. “That’s one,” he muttered. Though his expression remained impassive, Lazar could see a sheen of sweat across his forehead. The chant to banish someone into the Abyss took a great amount of essence manipulation.

“That was very fast,” he complimented. “You’ve become quite skilled with the chant.”

Julius smiled a little. “Well,” he said. “I would hope so, considering how many times I’ve had to do this.”

Lazar frowned, his eyes drifting over to the smooth expanse of the floor. A few humans had moved closer, eyeing the surface warily as though expecting it to open up and swallow them next. “There have been a lot of fallen recently.”

Julius opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the door creaked open. They both turned, coming face to face with an elderly man dressed in long maroon robes. The humans in the room immediately stood at attention, and Lazar’s eyes fell on the two guards flanking the new arrival. They wore ornate, shiny armor and carried long spears at their sides. He caught one of their gazes on him, and he met the look with steady grey eyes. The guard quickly turned away.

The man in front stopped just outside the doorway. He had naturally severe features, further sharpened by age, and carried himself with a self confident dignity. From the way he avoided entering the room directly and his eyes scanned the space, however, Lazar could tell he was nervous. He cleared his throat.

“Esteemed seraphs,” he greeted. “Has it been done?”

Julius nodded, his posture immediately returning to a rigid, formal stance. “The fallen has been cast into the Abyss,” he confirmed.

The man sighed in relief, and the two guards also relaxed a little.

“May the Oblivion take his soul quickly,” he muttered. He bowed his head. “Forgive us for disturbing you. You must understand, none of us suspected that he would fall. He was one of our most esteemed professors. I pray Elysium and the Light do not take his actions as representative of our academy or of the second plane.”

“You’ve no need for apologies,” Julius said flippantly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have other matters to attend to.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, of course! Forgive me!” He hurried to step out of the way, and the two guards also stepped aside. Julius didn’t hesitate to walk through the doorway, his head held high, and Lazar followed after, bowing at the three as they left.

Julius walked quickly, and Lazar was happy to match his pace. The hallways felt too narrow, too constrained. He knew logically that they were considered wide by human standards, but he was itching to fly.

It was a relief when they finally stepped outside the building and he felt the wind again, so much so that the crowd of gathered spectators didn’t bother him too much.

The crowd seemed to consist of a combination of professors and students along with a few more guards. They scrambled to bow when they saw the two seraphs, several fully prostrating themselves on the ground.

Julius ignored them, nose scrunching briefly with disgust. He beat his wings once, sending out a blast of wind as he shot into the air. In the beginning when he first started these assignments, he’d stopped to converse more, but now he seemed only to want to leave as quickly as possible.

Lazar followed after the man. They rose higher into the sky, the buildings and people growing into specks beneath them. He quite liked the second plane’s sky. It was a deeper blue than the one in Elysium.

“Shameful,” Julius muttered. Lazar flew a little closer, doing his best to send the other seraph a placating smile.

“It’s out of respect for the Light and Elysium.”

“That is understandable. But you would think they’d find a less shameful way to show it.” Julius sighed. “Enough of that. What’s next?” he asked.

“One more mission today,” Lazar said, reciting from the daily schedule he’d memorized that morning. “A fallen man on the first plane.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Wonderful.” Julius shook his head. “Let’s hurry along then. Best get this over with.”

Lazar nodded, and the two sped up, soaring towards the realm gate.

—

The house was barely more than a collection of wooden boards loosely stitched together. Lazar frowned, taking in the obvious gaps between planks, the thick layers of dirt and dust and the deep cuts slicing through the pieces. An entire section of the building was entirely caved in. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the place was abandoned.

The two of them landed on the barren ground. Here, only a few stray patches of yellowed grass broke up the monotony of brown and black. The trees, too, were largely bare, branches crooked and winding. Lazar turned his head, peering into the horizon. The closest other building was a fair distance away.

“I believe this is the place that was listed,” Lazar said carefully. “I may have gotten the location wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s right. I trust you,” Julius said simply, striding forward without a second glance at their surroundings. He eyed the door, half fallen off its hinges, with a raised eyebrow. “I do hear breathing,” he confirmed. “The fallen seems to be alone.”

Lazar nodded, his own hearing attuned to the faint, shuddering breaths. Whoever the fallen was, they didn’t seem to be long for this world.

Julius gripped the handle, and there was no resistance as he turned it and swung the door open, confidently stepping inside. Lazar followed, careful to tuck his wings close to his body. Based on the state of the building, a single accidental brush against the walls would likely be enough to make the whole thing collapse.

The inside of the home was just as run down as its exterior, a few shards of broken glass scattered along the dirty ground. Despite the small space, quite a few different items were stuffed inside, all of them looking just as worn as the building housing them. Lazar’s eyes fell on a dusty portrait sitting on the table, its glass so cloudy that he couldn’t make out any details.

In front of him, Julius suddenly came to a stop. His eyes were fixed ahead, muscles tensed.

Lazar’s own grip on his halberd tightened instinctively, and he held it at ready. Following the other seraph’s gaze, his eyes landed on a small cot shoved against the opposite wall. On it, a lump in the blankets belied the person underneath.

Lazar watched the shaky rise and fall of the mass, but he couldn’t detect any danger. Keeping his eyes on the cot, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

It took a second for Julius to answer, and when he finally did, he sounded more nervous than Lazar had heard from him in many years.

“He hasn’t fallen yet. The soul is still intact.”

Lazar blinked, and this time when he looked at the cot, he allowed the strands of essence to appear in his vision. He focused on the lump under the blankets, and though he’d never been as good at reading souls as Julius was, he could just barely make out the cracks and fissures, the soul on the verge of collapse and barely held together.

“He seems to be on the verge of falling,” Lazar said. Based on the state of the soul, it was already too late to save him.

When he turned his head, however, he saw that Julius hadn’t moved. He simply stood there, stock still. Lazar blinked.

“Julius?”

The other seraph didn’t take his eyes off the bed, the man below the blankets still slumbering, blissfully unaware. “Can you confirm,” he said slowly, “that this is our mission?”

Lazar nodded and muttered a quick chant. A flash of silver light engulfed the room, and a string of words materialized in front of them. Julius’s eyes scanned the letters, the light scattering the moment he was done reading. The creases between his eyebrows deepened.

“The notice doesn’t state that he’s on the brink of falling,” Lazar said. He frowned. This would seem like an important detail to mention, but there was no special comment written beside the task. Julius cursed under his breath.

“This must be my father’s doing,” he muttered. Green eyes narrowed. “He’s testing me.”

Lazar’s gaze drifted back to the sleeping man. “It is mercy,” he recited slowly, “to take the life of one about to fall.”

“For the physical body may be reborn, but a fallen soul knows only the Void,” Julius finished. His fingers curled around the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. His grip tightened, but he didn’t draw the blade, simply staring, unmoving, at the man. Lazar watched him carefully.

“Julius,” he said as gently as he could. “The longer you wait, the more likely he is to fall completely.” And then his soul will be beyond saving, were the unspoken words.

“I know,” Julius gritted out. He still didn’t move.

Seraphs had strict rules about killing humans. No seraph was to kill a mortal except in certain specific cases; to do otherwise was to sully the name of Elysium.

One of the allowed scenarios was in order to prevent a soul from falling, but that was a situation that typically only the guardians encountered. Julius, despite the many missions he’d been given thus far to prepare for his official role, hadn’t yet been forced to kill a human.

Lazar frowned, watching the different emotions passing through the other seraph’s eyes beneath his stoic exterior. It was cruel to make him do this with no warning, he thought. He didn’t say it out loud. His role was to observe and assist only, to be the quiet shadow trailing behind the future guardian.

“A guardian allowing a soul to fall would be treason,” Julius muttered, as though trying to convince himself. It was more than that. If the Light found out that a soul that could’ve returned to the Cycle was instead destroyed by the Oblivion, she would never allow Julius to become a guardian, and his punishment would be severe. Enabling a soul to fall was among the worst of crimes.

Slowly, Julius slid his sword out of its sheath and held the blade in front of him. He took a step forward, the metal gleaming.

A small cough sounded from underneath the blankets. Julius froze.

“Oh Light,” he whispered. “It’s a child.”

Just barely poking out from beneath the pile of fabric, a mussed head faced the wall in slumber. The small, thin shoulder and frame were distinctly those of a child’s.

Julius’s eyes stared at that sleeping form, and neither his hand nor the sword moved. Lazar watched with growing unease. The soul was edging closer and closer to breaking down entirely. His mind churned, trying to recall if a seraph had been put on trial for allowing a fall in their lifetimes. He remembered all too well the whispered words, the mantras drilled into his mind the moment he was old enough to understand them.

He would do it, Lazar told himself. It was normal to be hesitant. Julius was prone to thinking with his emotions. He was kind, and that was what Lazar admired about him. But once he’d calmed down, reason would win out and he would go through with it, and the child’s soul would be brought back to the Cycle.

Finally, Julius shifted, and Lazar exhaled in relief.

And then he realized he was lowering the sword.

When Julius’s eyes met Lazar’s, they looked dead, more defeated than he had ever seen them before. It made his own eyes widen, made him freeze in place as the other seraph’s shoulders slumped with resigned acceptance.

“I can’t do it.”