"The hell is he doing?" asked Abberline, scoffing. "We need to get out of here, why is he just staring?" Her smudged makeup and frizzy hair did her no favours as her sultry eye found itself on Caine yet again. With a sly grin, she creeped up and caressed his arm, intertwining herself with him. "Caine, will you carry me up? I am not so sure I can do it myself. I'll make it worth your while, like old times?" her cheeks flushed red. Caine let out a small sigh and a soft look overtook his features as he turned back and lifted her chin to face him.
"Abberline," A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes as he drew closer. Caine caressed her cheek with his thumb and locked his gaze with hers, letting a whisper fall from his lips, "Get lost."
"Silence." said Stolas, still gazing at the stone. He chose keratin, stronger than bone. It would not break underfoot, he thought. In his mind's eye, he moulded the horns of a goat and fused them together to form rungs. The ribbed structure repeated in pattern six hundred times over, stacked upon itself. As his head tilted further and further back, he stretched tendrils that slotted into the crevices, holding the ladder in place. Stolas took a sharp breath, collapsing his void. With a blink, he mustered his creation to the earthly plane. The ladder snapped into the rock and travelled three hundred metres high to the ravines peak. He gasped as his sight returned and dropped to one knee. Exhaustion stuck him like a gale, and his tired body caved in under its own weight. "Ah," with great effort he raised his head and marvelled. "It worked."
Noise in the auditorium was extinguished. The screams hammering and each breath ceased. Every live pair of eyes in the room concentrated on the beacon of freedom in front of them.
"What are you?" muttered Caine.
"How did you think I got out of the cage?" Stolas retorted, sweat dripping down his temple. His eyes stung, and the force of gravity weighed on him ten times harder. Every injury and the stress of it all hindered him. Stolas hauled himself up, leaning on the swallow. "I need to get out of here." He huffed.
"That is his highness, he has come to save us!" one guest cried out. People snapped out of their trances and chaos resumed.
"Take us with you!" They started running for the ladder at frightening speeds, disregarding the dragons that hounded them. Stolas' eyes widened in horror.
"Quick, get on!" said Kalou as he and Éirean dived for it. Caine and Abberline swiftly followed behind them.
"Stolas, wake up, come on!" The prince ran as fast as he could to the ladder, Rook and Icarus behind him. "Here, just carry yourself." Caine took the swallow from his grasp and elevated his burden a little. The group climbed as fast as they could. Not even twenty metres up, and the others reached the bottom. Stolas pulled himself up rung after rung but as more joined his anxiety spread the hot flow of panic through his veins, making his arms weaken and shake. The gripping fragments delving into the rock did not have enough reliability for this many. He looked down, and the kids kept on his heels. The ground seemed to pulse, and he whipped back to face the wall. So high, he thought, shuddering.
At halfway, the rest of the survivors all clung to the ladder, everyone moving as fast as they could manage. For those lower down, their chances continued to dwindle. Dragons circled, ripping people off and dropping them to be roasted in the haze below. The flames forever creeped up, nipping at their feet, and driving them mad. Some of the desperate threw each other off. The occasional scream amongst the groaning set off an ever more disturbing alarm in Stolas' head, sending him closer to an attack. He clenched his eyes shut as hard as he could.
"Your royal highness are you scared?" said Rook in a shaky voice.
"Ah, that's right, I lied to you, didn't I?" he replied, changing the conversation. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay, not your fault. I would lie too if I was the Divine Prince." Stolas clenched his fist on a rung. Caine's words crossed his mind. Perhaps he was tied to the angels in some way, or even higher beings. Stolas shook his head. No, he thought. Kalou would be special too if it was a matter of blood. Another scream just below him sent a jolt of fear through his body, the hairs on his arms stood up.
"You two…!" He cried out. The boys pressed against the ladder, and part of a hand still gripped onto the rung below them. The wrist disintegrated into a tangled, gangly mess of burned tendons.
"Tch, come up. Past me!" Stolas reached out one hand and swung to the side, the hot air and sparks sending his stray hairs into a fluttering entanglement. A small hand took his, and with a tug he pulled Rook up. "Now you, Icarus, grab my hand!" The timid boy dared not move an inch, and those below slowly caught up. His sky-blue eyes glowed in contrast to the paralysing orange inferno. "Icarus!" He shook his head and spoke incomprehensible words. A rumbling echoed from above and before Stolas could react, a boulder shot past him, clipping his ear. It crashed into the wall and the ladder weakened its hold. Collective screams erupted from below as a few bodies tumbled down. Like lightning before thunder, small rocks fell, increasing in size with each one. "Damn it," said Stolas in a low tone. He climbed down and grabbed Icarus forcefully. Turning around, he lifted the boy over his head and onto his shoulders. "You help me climb, okay?" Another rock zipped past them.
"Stolas, hurry!" Cried Kalou, two-thirds of the way there. Stolas gritted his teeth and continued up as fast as he could. Father was right, he thought. I am in way over my head. Such time passed already, who knew if my people still lived? Stolas found he had them in his thoughts less and less as the days went on. Now, was it not more about solving the mystery? Abberline shrieked.
"Duck!" Cried Caine.
A gargantuan stone plunged toward them. Stolas flattened himself to the wall and froze as it slammed into the ladder directly above him. He gasped as it bounced off, sending a chill as it flew over his head. The structure collapsed. Cracking of the fragments in the rock sounded in a melody as the ladder detached. Above him, the stone severed it entirely. Stolas' family looked down in shock. It took him a moment to understand, but his body moved on its own. He grasped Icarus by the waist and threw him over the gap without a moment's hesitation. As if time slowed, he watched as Rook reached to catch Icarus' outstretched arms. See his fingers secure themselves around his arm, and strain. The platform beneath his feet leaned backwards.
"Ah," Stolas hummed as he faced into the fire. He let go of his tense, rigid posture and relaxed. His delicate features eased, and an innocent smile bloomed on his face. "Sorry everyone."
"No!" Kalou bellowed. Stolas fell into freefall.
"What?" Caine breathed. His jaw dropped.
"Stola-"
"Prdzar." Like a blade on china, the silver claws scraped across the rock. Stolas caught the blaze of white cascading down. A form in fluttering robes dodged the sinking rocks and descended like a falling blossom. It halted at his level and vaulted off the stone, appearing before him in a second. Stolas sensed the brush of the material against his skin as it enveloped him into a tight hold. The orange abyss consumed them together.
"You saved me." Stolas uttered in awe. He couldn't control his arm that reached out to stroke the angel's cheek, its skin soft and smooth to the touch. Stolas never blinked; his body would not let him look away from the bewitching creature atop him. "Why would someth-" Stolas paused and corrected himself. "Why would someone like you do such a thing?" I cannot keep referring to this person as a creature, Stolas thought. The angel lifted his pillar of an arm and hammered at the side of their tomb, sending the left half flying.
"Run." His voice darkened. It bounced around in Stolas' head like an echo and, compelled to listen, he used the remains of his energy and will to lift his head from the ground and crawl. With each movement, he diagnosed a new source of pain. Two broken ribs, a fractured skull, sprained wrist and twisted ankles. Not half bad given the fall, he thought. Wincing, he squeezed himself through the crumbling hole into the dire place beyond. The fiery walls stretched tall and through the black smoke and ash, he spied half a barren ladder reaching the top of the ravine. His eyes creased.
"Thank God." He sighed.
Boom.
Stolas spun around to face the deafening sound. The Virtue arose from the rubble after launching it ten metres off his back. In the light, his scintillating presence reminded Stolas just how inhuman he was. His hair and skin like glass refracted the scattering rays, illuminating him in a stunning halo. The angel shirked off the pebbles from his shoulders.
"Balit el," he said, striding over. He stopped at his feet and paused, looking the prince over. Stolas dared not move, only watched as the angel's emotionless gaze passed across his many marks and cuts. He seemed unbothered about the enclosing firestorm; Stolas observed. The angel's form warped in the convulsing air. Both could be reduced to naught in seconds. His jaw twitched as he crouched down, and he extended his clawed gauntlet with care. Stolas withdrew on instinct, yet he sensed no malice from the Virtue.
"Why are you helping me? Putting yourself at risk, am I that valuable to you all?" he said without breaking his stare. "What am I to you?"
"Balit el," he repeated, pushing closer and further, extending his reach.
"Balit el, what is that about?" The angel flinched at his use of Enochian; his pointed ears twitched. "Why should I trust you?"
"Why…" the angel muttered. Stolas jumped as a claw appeared on his chest. His pointed fingers raised Stolas' chin. The prince could not make out his eyes through the metal mesh mask, yet he knew they beheld his soul. "You," the angel pondered. "Ascha made you."
"Ascha?" Stolas exclaimed. Before further questions sputtered out of his mouth, a whisp claimed his attention. Behind the angel, a predator emerged. His breathing drew shallow. The hydra swam in the fire, its many horned heads slithering in and out of sight until the beast emerged from behind the orange curtain. All sixteen slitted eyes pulsed in his direction, or more accurately, the person leaning over him. His mind switched. He closed his mouth and transformed his aghast expression into one of blank concentration. This angel is beyond priceless, he thought. How useless would I be to let him die here? Stolas focused. The angel registered confusion, tilting his head to the side. He released Stolas' chin. "Balit el?" his voice wavered. In a blur, the angel retreated as blood ran rivers through the whites in Stolas' eyes. He rose, and without a scrap of doubt, launched an ivory spear. It skimmed over the angel's cheek and pierced the heart of the beast. A horrendous, dying shriek sounded from the hydra's many heads as it thrashed, spouting plumes of purple fire in every direction. Stolas grasped the creature as it let out its dying breath, ran his eyes over its form and into its chest. How useful a head start.
Only more swarmed.
Dragon after dragon Stolas slaughtered, his brow raised, and pupils shrunk. He ripped apart his body, letting the skin break and burn as he moved. Each molecule of severed scale, flesh, and flowing blood of his victims, he scrutinised. The Virtue remained silent, poised. His gauntlet wiped away the streak of black blood that dripped from his cheek as he observed the massacre.
"Hah," Stolas panted. "Angel, did the fire get you? Sorry, but I have too much to ask to let you die just yet.'' The Virtue looked up from his black stained thumb. Stolas blinked. The crunch of a disassembling skull emanated from the angel's hand, that squeezed the life out of a wyvern's head inches from him.
"Enough." He spoke.
"Hm, you're right." Stolas hummed, looking at the creatures' impaled corpses, sucking up any last shreds of usable information. "I think I'm at my limit." His legs fell out from under him. Stolas collapsed into the Virtue; his head pressed against his chest. "What did you mean by Ascha making me?" he mumbled into his silk robes. Despite the environment, the angel radiated cool air. As if he had buried his head in ice. Stolas allowed it to lull him into a semi-conscious trance.
Kalou stood in a dark void of his own making. He observed the world in two states, one blind with grief. In this void, he heard his own howling crying in the third person. His voice was unrecognisable, more akin to the dying cries of a wounded animal. Any consolation from the others fell on deaf ears as he clenched his hands over his eyes and dug in his nails. I don't want to see; I don't want to think; he thought. His mind relapsed over and over, living through the memory of Stolas falling and his subsequent denial.
"Kalou please, don't-" Éirean said in a broken voice. "Don't cry. I beg you. The angel. The angel may have-"
"Do not finish that sentence!" Caine barked. "Do not." His eyes welled up, his face depicting utter defeat. Abberline shook with panic as she bit into her nails, mumbling incessant worries about being held responsible. The boys just wailed.
Atop the ravine, storm clouds gathered. As the group lay destroyed, with every drop of rain, Kalou's grief turned further to rage. He peeled away his hands from his eyes and set his sights on Icarus.
"…you." Éirean grabbed him by the shoulder.
"What, Kalou say that again?"
"It was you." Kalou threw the soldier aside. "Why did you have to burden him?" he said, his voice as hard and cold as the stone they stood on. Icarus clammed up and shuffled back, closer to the edge, his eyes wide and fearful. "I am your future King. Answer me."
"Your royal highness, please! My brother can't speak very well, especially when he's nervous. But I know he never meant for Sto-" Kalou struck Rook with his boot and sent him flying. The boy landed hard and splayed-out limp like a rag-doll.
"Rook!" Icarus cried, reaching out for him. Kalou grasped the child by the throat and lifted.
"You can speak."
"Kalou, what are you doing?" Caine glared through the sopping wet hair that shrouded his face. Kalou let the white anger coat his voice with murderous intent.
"An eye for an eye. A brother for a brother, right?" His grip tightened around Icarus' neck and his pale skin pigmented to become a bright pink. Lips blue and eyes bloodshot. Éirean looked to Caine for guidance, but he only averted his gaze and closed his mouth. "Why did he have to die to save you?" Kalou whispered as his tears mixed with the blood on his face. "He was everything to this country. Do you understand just how many lives you have strewn to ruin?" As he moved to snap the boy's neck, his vision disappeared. Stunned by the flash of lightning not two metres to his right, he lost his hold. Icarus turned as he fell and landed facing into the ravine. His blurred eyes widened at the spectacle below.
"H-he…he is-" Kalou growled and grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair. "No, he is alive!" Icarus screamed.
The alarm bells in all four corners of Jünden chimed, following the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Kalou's stopped.
Caine and Éirean staggered to the edge, eyebrows raised and jaws slack. They observed as the Virtue - caught aflame - carved his way up the rock.