Arakiel heard Aurora cry, heard her shiver, heard her whimper. He needed to get out of this void and reach her, but the moment that she took the last bit of golden fire from him, his body had simply ceased functioning.

Whatever this accursed ritual had done, he was bound to her in more ways than one.

But that couldn’t stop him. It just could not.

His aurea needed him… Aurora needed him.

He had failed Marianka with his weakness… if he failed Aurora as well, he wouldn’t ever be able to look at himself in the mirror again.

His failure would be complete.

It could not happen.

It simply could not.

His mind scrambled for an answer. Why had Aurora suddenly regained control of her soul when it had been thoroughly under his control?

It had to relate to his momentary disdain for her – or to his failing state of mind, for he was truly at his wits’ end, but none of that mattered now.

She needed him now, right this instant.

He had promised to protect her, promised to honor her, promised to cherish her. In a way, he had failed all three, but she wasn’t entirely without fault as well.

Over such a minor detail, a single word.

He chastised himself.

Why should she honor her vow when he didn’t honor his promises, no matter the reason. They were pledges exchanged before the Transcended… they were sacred.

They held power.

In his mind, he plead to the Transcended to give him a second chance – he wouldn’t fail her again… he mustn’t.

Whatever happened out there, she needed him right now.

And then, in the distance of this near endless black void that he had found himself trapped in, he saw a single mote of golden light.

She was over there, he had to reach her.

He had no body to move, but his mind was working and with it, he imagined it like a teleport through a plane. An exit at the point where he needed to go and one at his current position.

Then, fold it, rip it open and step through.

It happened.

The speck of light was there in front of him. His mind took note of it, seized it and as soon as he had taken it into himself, he called upon Aurora’s flame, for he was her champion and it was his duty to protect her, even if it meant leaving her with next to nothing.

She had sworn to serve him – and so her flame had to abide by it as well.

He ordered it to come and with it, he regained control of his senses.

Before him, he saw discarded green trousers with a heavy belt. Beyond, a pair of naked, hairy legs that were currently…

His mind went not into a shock, but into a frenzy at the sight of a half-naked man assuredly walking towards Arakiel’s aurea. The man chuckled in a wanton tone and held his groin…

He seized everything that Aurora had to give except for the tiniest bit, just enough for her to remain on her feet and more importantly, to listen and hear.

His eyes saw the stream of golden flame that found its way under the white wings that she used to shield her body against the lecher’s gaze.

As soon as the first streak of golden flame reached him, Arakiel let it unfurl all throughout his body and although it was a thin spread at first, it was enough to revitalize his limbs and even though they still felt numb, he forced himself onto his knees and then vaulted into a sprint, constantly drawing in more flame.

By now, the man whose identity Arakiel did not know had noticed that something was off and when he turned around, his dark eyes widened in surprise.

Arakiel wasted no energy on words and merely tackled the man to the ground and, using the man’s brief moment of disorientation, he directed nearly all the flame into his right arm with which he struck the man across the left side of his face.

His opponent grunted and Arakiel managed to repeat the process with his left arm before the man pushed him off with surprising strength.

No, it wasn’t surprising – Arakiel was just weak, even with Aurora’s flame filling him.

But he heard her whimper still, saw her not having moved at all. She seemed utterly trapped in her fear and it was partially his fault, for he had lost control, had enabled her to do something stupid.

His relatively burly opponent managed to jump into a standing position despite having laid on his back and although Arakiel stood between him and his weapon, he had no illusions about the man being an extremely dangerous opponent – and Arakiel wasn’t exactly a duelist.

“Still some life in you after all, huh!?” The man growled full of hostility and wiped a thin line of blood from his mouth. “That one hurt a bit… not bad for a wimp like you… what are you even!?”

From the corner of his eye, Arakiel noticed that he only had a little more flame to collect… and although it had gathered all throughout his body, he still felt kind of weak.

Vexing, but he’d make due.

Aurora needed him and he would not fail her.

“That your girl?” The man asked with Arakiel still giving no response.

“Fine, play the silent hero. I’ll kill you and seed her on your corpse! Taking some bitch while on a blood rush is the best, anyway.” The man announced and then charged Arakiel.

From the snippets of information, Arakiel concluded that this man might be a planeswalker – or at least he was someone that regularly killed and then had his way with foreign women that he regarded with nothing but contempt. A planeswalker or a criminal – either way… very dangerous.

He expected him to be fast, but the man still nearly caught him off guard, having almost buried a low punch in Arakiel’s gut.

But with the help of Aurora’s flame, he managed to evade to the side after which he directed most of the flame into his legs, letting him tackle the man onto the ground once more and although his opponent saw it coming, he had misjudged Arakiel’s momentum and they both fell to the ground, tumbling about a few times until one of them hit the vacated shop counter. Luck had favored him, for the man had taken the brunt and given his groan, Arakiel seized the opportunity to strike him straight in the face with a thoroughly flame-powered arm.

Arakiel’s felt the man’s nose break and he winced in pain. Alas, his foe’s fighter’s instincts took over. He buried his knee deep into Arakiel’s gut, nearly robbing him of all his breath.

Of the two, the stranger regained composure a slight moment faster than Arakiel and immediately jumped him. He shouted an insult as he struck Arakiel’s cheek with his fist and it was with such force that it actually dazed him again, letting the man get in another hit.

Arakiel suffered five punches before he stabilized and recovered by ramming his own knee into the man’s back which caused him to roll off of Arakiel.

Both scrambled to their feet, bleeding from nose and mouth.

“I was a little worried at first…” The man muttered as he wiped more blood from his mouth. “You seem older than me, but you’re so weak it’s almost pathetic… as expected of a commoner.”

“And you are?” Arakiel queried, hoping to catch a moment of breath with a stall.

“You’re unworthy of my name, commoner… but I do wonder what that golden fire is from the winged girl. Is she an immortal? Gotta be it, right?”

Arakiel spat out a mouthful of blood, but didn’t answer.

“Listen, lad. Immortals are devious creatures that only bring you ruin. Only high-level planeswalkers can properly domesticate them… dunno what she promised you, but don’t fall for it.”

More blood began to fill Arakiel’s mouth. Damn it, the guy had hit him harder than he had anticipated. He spat it out, asking with bated breath. “An expert, huh?”

Aurora’s fire burned hot inside him, but his body was just too damn weak. All the benefits of having managed to become a Wanderer and then a Traveler… gone in an instant.

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Damn it.

Still, if he concentrated the flame, he could hurt the guy and although he was panting, he was still on his feet despite having taken some gruesome hits.

“Lad,” the other man said, straightening his back a little. “Listen to me. I can see you’re a good soul. Standing up for one’s girl is laudable… but an immortal ain’t it. She’s still frail, that’s why she’s coddling you.”

“And then?” Arakiel queried as he, too, straightened out his breathing. He wasn’t a good fighter at all. He had been once… but then he had been so utterly trashed that he sought something else.

Just a little more time and he’d be good to go… but the other guy would be as well.

“She’ll discard you once she’s grown a little. Immortals always do. Let’s overcome her, take a little bite and then sell her to the guild. She’s worth a damn fortune lad – you can buy yourself a girl almost as beautiful for that.”

Arakiel lessened his stance and straightened his back, signaling understanding.

“See, lad. We can work together… as mortals.” The man offered and slowly approached him, holding out a hand.

His eyes searched Arakiel’s for deception who mimicked the gesture, masking his own in the process.

When both were but a step away from each other, Arakiel dashed at him and the man did as well. It came as no surprise to either, but Arakiel did not aim for the man, but past him. He evaded the attack and hurried over towards the sword that the man had dropped.

Aurora was still cowering on the floor, but he could tell that she peeked out from behind her feathered curtain.

“Aw, laddie – now you’ve gone and made it all personal,” the half-naked man with his green buttoned vest mocked when Arakiel unsheathed the steel longsword, but his voice betrayed worry. He looked around and found a chair that he picked up.

A brief glance marked the blade of good make, but nothing special. No array or special alloy… meaning the man couldn’t be that high a level or he was poor. Both usually went hand in hand.

There wasn’t much space here in between the abandoned tables with the upturned chairs and the counter, but he’d only need one proper stab or strike. The sword felt a little heavy in his hand, but he’d have to make due… even though he’d only get one chance.

Of course, a single knee to the man’s groin would give him the upper hand… but Arakiel hadn’t grown that desperate yet. Some lines couldn’t be crossed just like that, even now.

The other man lightly jumped up and down, chair still in hand. An unwieldy weapon, but it was the only one within reach for him. He didn’t approach while Arakiel got a feel for the weapon. The balance was good enough, it was something he could use.

His opponent was about to mock him again when Arakiel suddenly dashed forward, holding the blade low and right.

The foe reacted in an instant, throwing the chair his way but he had aimed too high, allowing Arakiel to duck underneath, Had he actually intended to slash at the man, it might’ve disrupted him. Instead, he shifted his weight and struck with the pommel instead of the actual blade.

Arakiel’s maneuver caught the man off guard, allowing him to bury the pointed, dull steel deep in the man’s left arm that he had raised in defense at the last moment.

Using his momentum, he began to pressure his adversary with a mixture of strikes, stabs and feints, a few of which connected. His swordplay wasn’t the worst, after all.

The man tried to use his surroundings to his advantage, but Arakiel drew blood twice before his opponent pulled in a chair to intercept a potential finishing strike. The blade splintered some of the wood, but then got stuck and although Arakiel let go right away, the younger man was right in his face again, forcing Arakiel into another brawl.

The two exchanged blow for blow, drawing blood again and although Arakiel was weaker physically, he played it smart by stalling the man who was now on a timer with his open wounds.

Both began to throw chairs, ceramic cups and whatever else they could at one another in order to create a distraction, but when the other guy realized that he was bleeding out, he became more aggressive, trying to overcome Arakiel with feints, dashes and even a few kicks. Although his reckless behavior made him land some attacks, Arakiel also got in a few good punches on his own, each one empowered by the golden flame whose use had already become second nature to him in his first real fight. Its main strength lay in throwing his opponent off-guard, for he was sometimes much faster than normally and the guy couldn’t say when it happened as the flame moved about internally.

When Arakiel managed to bury a ceramic shard into the wound he had created earlier with the sword, the guy went in a brief shock which allowed Arakiel to pounce him. His next strike went at the massive bruise that had formed right where the pommel had struck and then, with his last exertions, he overcame his opponent.

Arakiel kept striking the guy beneath him, always aiming straight for the head and although that man had initially tried to plead mercy, he quickly only managed a groan, than a rattle and finally, nothing entirely.

But Arakiel wasn’t done; He kept punching and striking at the bloody pulp beneath him long after the guy had stopped moving, but he needed to vent his anger, his frustration and everything else. He needed a punching bag and this guy right here served exceptionally well, for Arakiel felt nothing but cold, seething hatred.

This man had wanted to…

But he, Arakiel, would not allowit to happen.

It had turned dark and Arakiel’s arms felt sore from all the exertion, but he only stopped when he eventually felt someone hugging him from behind.

At first, it was a pair of delicate, trembling hands that sought his upper chest and then a set of feathery wings followed, more or less obstructing all his view.

A stench crept into his nostrils and although he could take a guess, he would not form the thoughts.

Then, he felt Aurora pressing her small breasts against his back while she laid her hand against his back and nape.

He let out a long, deep sigh and then remained silent, unmoving.

It turned deathly quiet here in the abandoned shop that was still partially intact, but also not really. He could only hope that Aurora hadn’t been hit given how much the two men had devastated the room.

Further, now that he thought about it, it was kind of odd that no one else had come to investigate – they had been very loud and the street was just outside.

Ezekiel and his walking disaster of an argent were probably long gone… and most likely caught already. There was a bounty on Selene ast Rhea’s head – and quite a sizable one too.

In the same vein, Shemyaza had probably left for another city already, given that she seemed more immortal than mortal at this point.

It meant that there was nothing tying him down anymore, for everything that he had worked for over the past decade was gone.

Everyone but Aurora, who was right here with him.

The sun outside had set when she spoke up quietly, her tone meek. “I’m sorry… Arakiel. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He was pretty mad at her… but he was also mad at himself. And having been able to vent most of that anger had certainly helped.

And so, he quietly turned around and as the soft rays of silvery moonlight partially illuminated her through the small holes in the shop’s heavy curtains, he felt the rest of his anger dissipating. She was just too beautiful, but something also had to change.

Arakiel began to softly stroke her chin as he returned half the flame back to her, causing the part where their skin met to light up in a shallow, golden light. This time, he felt no pull from her side.

Afterwards, he helped her get up and then escorted her over towards the shop counter, so that she didn’t need to be near the guy’s corpse.

In this pale silvery light, the gold of her hair, eyes, collar and ring made her appear like the most beautiful being in existence, for it highlighted and complimented the rest of her, be it the petite body, the pale, flawless complexion or her delicate wings with a pristine white plumage…

On the counter, she was a little taller than him standing in front of it. Her body still trembled, albeit softer, and her hand kept squeezing his tightly in order to make the shaking stop. Her wings, which might be half her size give or take a little, were resting behind her, arcing off of it in a concave manner and the way her plumage was layered thrice reminded him of doves.

Arakiel had to remind himself that he was still deep in unfriendly territory, with many unknown factors. The twitching in his face certainly helped, the wounds and bruises still fresh.

He’d need to get some healing potion to speed up the recovery or he’d be the laughing stock even if he did get home. There was no reason for someone of his stature to have visible bruises. Actual gashes or broken bones were quite another thing, but not something as mild as this.

He could only assume that the golden flame had somehow offered a modicum of protection, for his nose should’ve been broken when it did not.

Aurora, whose face was still highly red from all the crying, looked over towards him, whispering in a mixture of shame and worry.

“Look at me… still afraid and thoroughly scatterbrained… I am pathetic, am I not?”

He offered her a slight smile, but stared deep into her eyes. “As a combatant, yes.” He stated and although he could tell that it cut her, it needed to be said. She needed to be reminded, and remind her he did. “But you’re no combatant, Aurora. You’re an aurea… my aurea.”

She dejectedly looked to the side, not daring to meet his eyes. “I know, Arakiel. I’m sorry… I really am.”

“It kind of worked out this time, Aurora.” He placated and then went for the final lecture of tonight. “But it might not the next time. Let me uphold my promise… and I can only do that when you uphold your vow.”

Her gaze returned towards him, tears once again flowing off of her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Arakiel. It won’t happen again… and I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

He began to softly stroke her lustrous golden hair that had somehow managed to cast off any grime or soot that sought to tarnish it. Now that he thought about it, it had even survived all the fire.

“I know… and I am learning to accept you for what you are, Aurora… it seems that we both need to do our best, eh?” He relayed in a slightly upbeat way.

“Idiot…” She muttered beneath her breath.

He remained by her side until she eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms, at which point he gently laid her down in order to scout his surroundings, but he didn’t get far when smoke began to rapidly make its way towards the place where they had stayed.

In the far, far back, he saw silver-golden flames raging through the building while there was truly no trace of Ezekiel, Selene or Shemyaza remaining.

Still, with no time to lose, he hurried back, took the sword, the belt and then threw one of the blankets over Aurora.

He then hurried outside into a mostly-empty street, only a few shallow light crystals illuminating the mostly green buildings, some of which had been timber-framed while others were made entirely of stone or brick.

Arakiel quickly vanished into the nearest alleyway in-between two stone houses and when cries were being raised, people – both commoners and those capable of water magic – gathered in order to stop the fire from spreading.

And once it was put out, any trace of the Seraphim Covenant would be gone, for Arakiel and the sleeping Aurora in his arms were long gone by this point.

Moving from shadow to shadow wasn’t the easiest given how slow he had become, but as long as he had fire to draw upon, he did not tire, which was the first real boon that he could ascribe to Aurora’s flame.

Drawing more, he began the slow and arduous way back into the Colorchanging District all the way across on the other side of Kalanaar.

But first, he’d need to find some proper clothing and even if he was no longer a Traveler, Arakiel’s skills as a burglar were still very much a thing.

And when he spotted a small store in a more or less abandoned alley, he had found his mark.