Where Angels Dare
The demon was still alive.
It squirmed. It roared. Fire raged in its mouth, light shone in its eyes, blood spilt from its chest, and it flailed its fists wildly. But it was still alive, nonetheless. So Uriel plunged her sword down into it. Again. And with a final roar that turned into a rasp, the demon fell.
"I could have taken it you know."
She heard Karzael land beside her, the angel lifting his redemption cannon over his shoulder. Heard, but didn't look. Her gaze was focussed solely on the gholen, or rather, what was left of it as its body began to disintegrate.
"Did you hear me?"
"I could take it," Uriel murmured. "I didn't need help."
"We're all stranded in this world Uriel," Karzael said, extending a hand to her shoulder. "We all need-"
"I said I didn't need help." She turned around. "Now rejoin the Hellguard at the Spire. We will plan our next move."
Karzael remained impassive. Physically at least, but what was behind his helmet, Uriel couldn't tell. Likely an expression that showed anything but the type of one she wanted.
"As you command."
But still he obeyed. Still he flew out of the tunnel, heading towards the Spire.
Uriel turned around, turning to see nothing but the dust and ash the gholen had left. Right now, her frustration with Karzael outweighed her hatred for the spawn of Hell. Karzael doubted her, she knew that. Half the Hellguard doubted her, and she understood why. But touching her…she shuddered. Abaddon had put a hand there once. More than once. And Abaddon…she closed her eyes, clutching her sword. Abaddon was gone. Heaven was closed off. And she'd spent decades trying to forget, to lead the Hellguard in the same manner he did. And failing both times.
Still, she reflected, as she sheathed her sword, that didn't stop her forces from killing every demon they saw.
Turning around, Uriel began walking back to the tunnel exit. Past the ruined devices the humans used as transport, past the skeletal occupants that remained within them. The Spire stood in the distance, its blasted roof visible even from here. It was a human structure, and she had no idea what the now nearly extinct species had called it. But it was the highest structure in the city, a perfect place for angels to gather. A little jab in the eye of the Destroyer that even now, the Hellguard could fly and stand tall. Could look out to the Black Throne in defiance. Could, when she closed her eyes, imagine that they were in the clouds of Heaven. Not the miasmic ones that covered this dead world. Could-
She stopped. She turned. She drew her sword.
"Still sharp as ever."
And kept it raised as the figure stepped out of the shadows. From one of the side doors in the tunnel. A fire escape, she believed it was called – humans would sooner run from fire than confront it, after all. But it was not a child of the Third Kingdom that stepped through the door. It was-
"Hesparion?"
"You recognise me. I'm flattered."
Uriel bit her lip, still clutching her sword. Yes, it was Hesparion. The same scar across his forehead, the same lack of a ring finger, all the scars that one received when serving the Hellguard, none more so than in the last few decades
"Where have you been?"
And potentially, more specifically, in the last twenty-five years. That was how long he had been gone. How long she had thought him dead.
"Elsewhere," the angel responded. He closed the door. And Uriel gripped her sword even tighter.
Hesparion was different. Not just his red eyes, but…well, everything. His dark armour. His red wings. The serrated poleaxe slung over his back by his wings, along with a sack. He was just…wrong. And that was only what she could see visually. So when he kept walking, Uriel spoke.
"Stay where you are."
"Still leading the Hellguard," the angel said, though nonetheless obeying her command. "Abaddon would be proud."
"Abaddon is dead," Uriel answered. "What he would have thought doesn't matter."
Hesparion chuckled. "Oh Abaddon thinks…well, no, of course, he's dead." He chuckled again. "You've kept your armour clean I see. You must forgive my change in attire but…" He trailed off.
"I tend to it."
"As do I."
"And you were doing that for twenty-five years?" Uriel whispered. "Tending to armour? Getting new weapons?"
Hesparion sighed. He unslung the sack and put it down on the ground. It reeked of something. Something Uriel couldn't put her finger on. Or nose to.
"Let's talk business," Hesparion said. "Enough pleasantries."
"You sound like Vulgrim."
"Lesser demons are not my concern!" he spat. "The war is lost Uriel. The Third Kingdom is finished. Heaven leaves us out to dry, the Charred Council does nothing, and the Hellguard are diminished day by day. The Destroyer, Uriel. The Destroyer rules this world. The Destroyer is our future."
"What?" she whispered. "What madness is this?"
"The madness of many who ceased their insanity," Hesparion said. "Surely you've seen them, Uriel? 'Fallen angels,' as you call them?"
Like you, she thought.
"Sanctimony aside, there are those of us who've joined the Destroyer. Patrol this world. Man the ramparts of the Black Throne."
"And you want me," she said. "To fall. To serve the Destroyer."
"He wants the Hellguard dead or brought into the fold. Though he has special…" He chuckled, as if on the cusp of a joke. "Well, you lead the Hellguard Uriel. The Destroyer is certain to take…notice, of you."
Uriel nodded. Notice. The Destroyer had taken notice of her. In a way, she felt flattered. But most of her emotional core was filled with disgust. The desire to plunge her sword through Hesparion's chest and tear out his heart through the hole. Only the part of her mind reserved for strategy prevented her from attacking then and there.
"And if I refuse, what?" Uriel asked eventually.
"You die. The Hellguard is left with the same choice."
"You…" She trailed off. "What's in the bag?"
"What?" Hesparion asked, seeming genuinely taken aback.
"What's in the bag?" Uriel asked more forcefully.
"Uriel, I don't-"
"Open the bag!"
The angel reached for his poleaxe. But he rescinded it. Instead, he kicked the bag forward. And Uriel felt the need to exfiltrate her innards.
Heads. Human heads. Both genders, all ages. Half a dozen of them. Their dead eyes looked up at her. As if somewhere, they were still alive. Begging her. Accusing her. Asking why their world had to be destroyed. Uriel closed her own eyes for a moment. Then locked them with her counterpart.
"What is this?" she whispered. "Creator's Breath Hesparion, what is this?!"
"Sport," he said simply.
"What?!"
"Sport," he repeated. "The Destroyer doesn't like it when his demons are killed, so I have to take my fun elsewhere. Besides, there aren't many air-breathers left. It makes the hunt all the more worthwhile when the prey is hard to find."
He knelt down. He began shoving the heads back in the sack.
"I have my own quarters in the Black Throne," he said. "Like in Heaven, really. Trophies there too. Course the trophies are a bit different of course, but-"
Uriel decapitated him.
She never said anything. Neither did Hesparion. He'd been so confident, so corrupted, that he'd let his guard down to the extent when she could swing her sword and send his head flying against the tunnel wall. It hit with a wet 'thunk.' It slid down the concrete, the blood leaving a trail that marked his fall.
Uriel shook her head. No. Hesparion had fallen long ago. Twenty-five years, possibly, or more recently. Maybe form the moment the End War began, and was lost almost instantly.
Sheathing her sword, she gazed back at the heads. Wondering what to do with them. She had no idea how humans treated their dead. Fallen members of the Hellguard were cremated, their armour and weapons salvaged, but…she shook her head. Lamentations were unneeded. If the dead could speak, they would likely say there were unwanted as well.
Flexing her wings, Uriel took to the air. Flew out of the tunnel. Into the light.
Leaving the darkness behind.