Chapter 32 - Resolve I

The halberd still felt too heavy. Lazar frowned and jerked the weapon back, spinning and adjusting his stance before lunging forward with a second thrust. He didn’t stop there, flipping the blade around to execute a series of quick jabs with the lighter end of the shaft, finally completing the strikes with a wide, low sweep of the blade.

For a moment he remained still, his breaths ringing out in the empty chamber. Finally, he drew the halberd back and stood up again.

In front of him, the large crystal glowed a steady azure. He frowned and strode up to it, placing a hand against its cool surface and inspecting the new scratches and indentations with furrowed brows.

He wasn’t surprised that the blows hadn’t managed to damage the crystal much, but he was less happy about their inaccuracy. All of them were at least a few centimeters off from where he’d been aiming. Even though he was slowly getting used to his reduced strength and the subsequent adjustments necessary to compensate, he hadn’t quite figured out the best balance to his blows yet, and his accuracy was suffering as a result.

Lazar ran a finger down one of the deeper scratches, studying the way it gleamed in the light. “Not good enough,” he muttered.

“You still practicing?”

Ciel’s voice rang out from the chamber entrance, and the seraph spun around to face the flesh eater. Her arms were crossed, posture as casual as always.

“Ciel,” he greeted. “Cassius left earlier. I was just doing some basic drills.”

The demon remained just as insistent as he’d been on that first day about only practicing in shorter chunks of time. He still hadn’t succeeded in perceiving essence, but the seraph could tell he was close. But every time he thought he’d finally managed it, the image would dissipate, just out of reach.

While Lazar understood Cassius’s reasoning about soul exertion and even agreed with it to an extent, it didn’t stop him from growing increasingly antsy the longer they stayed there.

He’d continued to remember his dreams. Every night since the first one by the tear, he’d woken up with at least a few flashes of images burned into his eyelids, if not entire lengthy scenes and moments. It was disconcerting, after so many years without them, and he didn’t understand why he was remembering them now.

Lazar didn’t enjoy remembering dreams, he decided. It made it all the more difficult to tell the difference between the past and the waking world when the memories were so vivid.

Ciel’s golden gaze focused on the crystal, then shifted to the other ones around the room, several similarly lined with cuts and cracks. She whistled.

“You’re gonna leave the whole room covered in dents at this rate.” The demon strode forward, cracking her knuckles. “How about a spar? Nothing serious, I’ve got stockpiles to conserve.”

Lazar blinked. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“I’d be happy to,” he said. Ciel came to a stop a few feet away and got in a ready stance, and Lazar adjusted his grip on his weapon.

Grey eyes scanned the demon, searching for an opening and recalling all the times they’d fought together so far. It was harder to make out specifics in the heat of battle, but he remembered the demon usually favored a more aggressive approach and seemed equally inclined to use punches as she was to use kicks. This would be a good learning experience, he decided, both for general training and to get a better sense of the flesh eater’s usual attack patterns.

In the end, Ciel lunged first. With a simple, direct movement, she punched forward, and Lazar blocked with the shaft of his spear. His arms shook with exertion, and he quickly moved away.

They continued like that for some time, trading simple blows. Lazar quickly learned that though the demon was more physically strong, he was faster. He had to make full use of the halberd’s reach, as the flesh eater’s height gave her a deceptively long range even without her flesh warping.

It was refreshing, in a way, the casual back and forth. The only times he’d ever come close to this sort of relaxed sparring was with Julius, and that had stopped some time ago.

“That demon’s still by the gate,” Ciel said conversationally as she aimed a high kick.

Lazar ducked under the strike and paused.

“Demon?”

“You know, the one that knocked you out.”

Ciel brought up her forearm to block the next swing of Lazar’s halberd. The seraph frowned, still remembering the rumble of the earth and the feeling of its weight pressing down on his chest as he was thrown backwards.

He dislodged his weapon and stepped back.

“I thought,” he said slowly, “that Cassius killed them.”

“Nope.” Ciel shrugged. “He just held him off for a bit until he could lead us here.” The flesh eater nodded her head. “I’ve been scouting the gate during my hunts. That demon’s always there, like some kind of guard or watchdog. Didn’t look all that keen on moving away.”

“So we’ll have to fight him before we can ascend.”

“Probably, yeah.”

Lazar’s mind whirred. This would make ascending much more difficult. That demon had clearly been capable of magic.

“Why didn’t Cassius kill him?” He didn’t expect the demon to do so for his or Ciel’s sake, but the earth pillars had targeted Leon, too. Everything he’d learned about the demon so far suggested that he was fiercely protective of the human boy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ciel snorted. “Damn near every evolved demon knows each other. And two demons strong enough to ascend?” She shook her head. “If you ask me, it sounds like old Cassius knows who that demon is and isn’t willing to kill him.”

Lazar’s eyes darted around the empty chamber, but there was no one else around. He lowered his halberd, sensing that the spar was over, and realized how sore his muscles were. He exhaled a long breath.

“I see. So we’ll have to be discreet when we leave for the gate.” If Cassius really was familiar with that demon somehow, then he might not agree to them attacking. The fact that the demon had apparently elected to stay by the realm gate, however, was concerning. Either he was always there, or he knew they would come back.

“Do you know anything else about this demon?”

“Well, he’s got an earth affinity and knows enough magic to make it to the second plane if he wanted.” Ciel hummed consideringly. “Haven’t seen him use any other kind of magic though, just basic primal attacks, so he’s probably not super skilled.”

Given their current positions, even someone relatively “new” to magic would be difficult to deal with. The seraph absorbed the information carefully, nodding along.

Despite the wrench in their plans, a part of him felt…happy wasn’t the right word. Relieved, maybe. Relieved that there was something new to plan around and direct his attention to.

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A faint footstep brought the seraph out of his thoughts, and he turned to find Leon peering into the chamber from the doorway. The boy glanced between the two of them, his usual frown on his face. He seemed to have just arrived, and Lazar couldn’t find any additional suspicion in those brown eyes to imply that he’d overheard anything.

“Hello Leon,” he greeted. “Are you looking for Cassius?”

The human shook his head, shooting a quick scowl at Ciel before returning his attention to Lazar. The demon just looked amused at the boy’s obvious distaste.

“Are you done?”

Lazar glanced around the chamber. He probably wouldn’t get much more training done that day.

“I believe so. Did you need something?”

Leon shifted his weight, confirming the thought. He was either too proud or too nervous to answer directly, perhaps a combination of both, the seraph noted with amusement. Lazar turned to Ciel, bowing a little.

“Thank you for the spar,” he said, and the demon just snorted and waved dismissively. The seraph nodded at Leon, who straightened a little and turned towards the exit.

—

The two strolled down the translucent halls of Cassius’s home, the series of tunnels forming a web of curves and interconnected loops and intersections. Lazar was once again struck by the wrongness of it; he shouldn’t be able to walk so peacefully within the Abyss, so peacefully after falling, like this. The two concepts felt incongruous.

Leon strode a little in front of him, the boy silent as he moved confidently through the maze of halls. Lazar cleared his throat.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Brown eyes shifted in his direction, and after a pause, he blurted out:

“What’s Elysium like?”

Lazar stopped. When he faced Leon, the boy looked guilty.

“I heard Cassius mention it,” he muttered by way of explanation. His eyes flashed. “I didn’t know you were a seraph,” he said, more accusing this time.

Lazar carefully relaxed his muscles. Him being so tense would only serve to make the boy nervous.

“I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m afraid it never came up.”

Leon looked doubtful. “You weren’t hiding it?”

“I was planning to from Cassius,” the seraph admitted, “but I would’ve told you if you’d asked.”

Leon frowned up at him. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or not,” he muttered. He sounded genuinely perturbed by that fact, and Lazar chuckled.

“I’m sorry. But, returning to your question, what did you want to know?”

Now that the gates were open, Leon was quick to pounce on the opportunity. “What’s it like up there? Do you really have unlimited essence? Have you ever seen the Light? If you’re a seraph why don’t you have wings?” The words came out in a rush, and Lazar nodded along with each rapid fire question.

“It’s very bright there,” he said. “The Light’s throne always shines in the upper parts of the realm, and you can see it from the floating islands. It’s a beautiful place. The colors are quite soft, and you can always feel the wind,” he added a bit wistfully.

Lazar hummed in thought as he continued. “Elysium does have the most essence of all the realms, but I suppose you could argue that it isn’t unlimited. There’s simply such a large quantity that it feels that way, though it’s true that no one in the realm lacks for natural resources.”

Leon nodded eagerly, eyes wide and sparkling even as the boy visibly tried to contain his enthusiasm.

Lazar’s words slowed as he reached the final two questions. He closed his eyes, remembering the circling walls of the palace and the silhouette watching from far above. Backlit by the throne’s light, he hadn’t seen her face, but he’d felt her gaze on him as the light had consumed everything.

“I’ve only seen the Light once,” he said in a softer voice. “It was from a distance.” His free hand reached for his back, silently pressing against the smooth skin there, and he exhaled. “As for my wings, I lost them when I fell.”

Leon had already opened his mouth to begin a new series of questions, but now it clicked shut. The seraph could feel those keen eyes scrutinizing him, and he put on his best encouraging smile.

“I—how—” Leon stopped, frowning. “But…how does that work? Did the, did the soul eater rip them off or something?” His voice grew quieter at the end.

It took a moment for Lazar to understand what the boy was saying. His eyes widened in realization. Leon thought he’d been attacked by a soul eater, and that the damage was what had caused him to fall. He didn’t know if he should feel flattered that the boy apparently thought highly enough of him to not jump to assuming a natural fall, or worried now that he was going to learn the truth.

Lazar spoke very carefully. He wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“Leon, I didn’t fall because of a soul eater.”

Leon stopped. His gaze darted around, mind visibly churning, and then he took an abrupt step backwards and shook his head in disbelief. Lazar felt a pang in his chest at the sight.

“You mean—you—”

“One of the guardians sentenced me to fall. The sentencing also took away my wings.”

Evidently that was the wrong thing to say, because Leon’s eyes only widened even further. The boy’s back hit the cavern wall, and he finally stopped moving away.

“What did you do?” The words were half breathed out, likely only meant for himself, but Lazar answered anyway.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. That, at least, seemed to take the other fallen off guard. He furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“I was a servant to one of the guardians,” Lazar explained. His voice sounded distant to his own ears. Detached. “He was the one who sentenced me. I still don’t know why.”

“You’re lying.”

Lazar blinked. In Leon’s dark brown eyes, a new emotion mixed in with the confusion and unease, a burning spark that flared brightly.

The boy took a step forward, pointing an accusing finger at the seraph. “Elysium doesn’t have servants! And a guardian wouldn’t just do something like that for no reason!”

“Leon, Elysium isn’t exactly the same as the stories say.” The seraph tried to make his voice as placating as possible. “It’s true that resources are abundant, that much is correct, but there have always been social classes. My parents were servants as well, and most of the guardians come from nobility.”

“Then why does everyone try so hard to get there?”

The boy’s voice rang out, harsh and sharp in the confined space of the tunnels. He looked alarmed for a moment, like he hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, but resolutely set his jaw, daring Lazar to argue.

The seraph studied the boy, and Cassius’s words echoed in his mind. He looked like a cornered animal lashing out. The hard look occupying his features only served to highlight his true age; it didn’t belong on someone so young.

Lazar slowly crouched down so that he was eye level with the boy. The other fallen bristled, but didn’t back down.

“Leon, is this about Clyde Astarac?”

Brown eyes widened, and Lazar continued apologetically.

“I’m sorry. Cassius told me what happened.” From this angle, the markings poking out from beneath the boy’s sleeves were more obvious than ever. Dark and sprawling, they looked like little voids amidst the translucent walls. They’d spread even further since arriving at Cassius’s home, quickly approaching the boy’s knuckles at an alarming rate.

“What that man did was wrong. No amount of ambition can justify tampering with a person’s soul, especially a child’s. That would be true even if Elysium was the exact same as your stories say.”

“I know,” Leon cut in. Lazar blinked, not expecting the abrupt response. Some of Leon’s rigidness had dissipated, replaced with weariness, but the anger still burned beneath. He clenched his fingers.

“I’m not stupid,” he gritted out. “And I don’t need your pity. I survived just fine on my own, and I don’t need people feeling sorry for me just ‘cause I fell.” He jabbed a finger at Lazar’s chest, pushing him back. “You think I don’t know what my marks look like? You think I don’t know—” here his voice cracked, “—that Cassius is gonna have to kill me soon?”

Leon stopped, inhaling a sharp breath. Lazar should say something, he thought as he watched the boy visibly struggle to compose himself. He should say something, do something. And yet his body remained still.

All at once, the tension snapped from Leon’s frame, and the boy visibly deflated. Shoulders slumped, he looked especially small and frail.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway.” He sounded tired, far too tired and defeated for someone so young. Leon shook his head. “Sorry for wasting your time,” he mumbled. And then he turned and ran down the tunnels without another word.

Lazar watched his retreating back, staring down the path long after the other fallen had vanished from view. His hand reached for his chest unconsciously, rubbing at the mark.

It felt cold.