Waking with a groan of pain and confusion the young man opened his eyes to the dreary gray of concrete. Curling in on himself he let his hands wander over his stomach, chest, then back. When he didn't feel anything that was particularly sensitive or out of place he sighed in relief. His head wasn't pounding, though there was a bit of foggy confusion. All in all he probably didn't have a concussion. Which was good, seeing as how he couldn't exactly fix that. Silky golden blonde hair fell into liquid sky blue eyes as he got his arms under himself and rose from the ground. All around him he could see the destruction of what used to be some sort of storefront. The i-beam that had been holding up a part of the roof was bending downward, barely keeping back large chunks of rebar laden concrete. Carefully getting to his feet he slowly made his way through the structure, pausing every time he heard something shift or creak. It was harrowing trying to pick his way through the giant mess but he eventually ended up outside. Breathing easily for a moment he took in the absolute devastation of what once must have been a fair sized town. The sound of distant shells echoed in that desolate place and he felt his heart seize in his chest.

The last thing he remembered was coming home from his volunteer job at the animal shelter and getting a text from his mother. What she sent was a nearly incomprehensible mess of letters and numbers. Something that might have been broken Latin. It was no secret that his mother tended to have… episodes. Most people thought she was crazy. But he knew better. Whenever she went into one of her semi-frantic trances she always spoke the truth of things. Things that were happening in the past. Things that were happening in the present. And things that might come to pass in the future. Father told him that her family was known as a group of really nice, if a little cracked, people. Stopping to answer his phone under a street lamp he remembered it flickering and a sense of nausea overcoming him. The world went strange and he'd blacked out. Since he didn't find his phone on the ground or in his pockets he assumed he must have dropped it. How he'd ended up in the middle of what appeared to be a war zone he had no idea. But it wasn't a very good place to be. As his situation began to dawn on him the older teen scrambled to get into cover. Getting shot at was a real possibility in an active war zone. Even if the coast looked clear he had no idea who the combatants were. At the very least he could hear the sound of the shelling and knew which direction they were aiming. It was pretty far off, judging by how muffled it was.

Moving from cover to cover, inching around buildings and keeping a sharp eye out for anyone holding a weapon, he made his way through the town. A couple times now he'd had to double back or go a different way because of collapsed walls and debris. The smell of blood, smoke, and rot filled his nostrils as the distinct tang of ozone permeated the air. Visibility was iffy at times when he encountered still burning fires. Sometimes he'd come upon a corpse and the sense of impending doom made his palms sweat. The distant sounds of screaming were becoming louder. Shaking, mouth dry, he peeked his head around another corner and scrambled backwards in surprise. Running full tilt toward him was a group of eight armed men.

Tripping over some debris he fell to the ground as the men bolted past him, screaming and yelling in a language he couldn't understand. Hot on their heels were creatures that made his stomach roll. Launching itself through the air the strange female-esque monster slammed into the back of one of the men, slamming the both of them to the ground. With razor sharp claws and gargoyle-like feet it began to tear at the man furiously, laughing euphorically as it did so. Bile rose in his throat as the man let out blood-curdling screams of agony. His body went cold, then numb. A second one slashed at the man it had caught up to, cutting him in half at the middle. When what he was watching finally registered to his stalled brain a feeling of righteous energy filled him. Jumping up from the ground he clenched his fists. "Hey!" Getting the attention of the strange creatures they turned to look at him and started to laugh in sadistic pleasure. "My what a pretty little thing you are~ I'll enjoy breaking you."

Hurtling toward him with grotesque glee on its face the creature reached toward him with an outstretched claw. Ignoring a yell behind him the young man raised his hand as the creature reached its apex. A golden light erupted from his hands and a moment later the creature began to scream and wail horribly as it fell to the ground, clutching a stump where its clawed hand had once been. It was like nothing he had ever heard before. Cries of anger, desperation, and pain filled the air. More of the demonic beings rounded on him as he stood his ground, a golden two-handed sword clutched in his hands. Moving swiftly he stabbed the second demon, who clawed at the wound in its chest before turning to ash and scattering in the wind.

Pain lanced through him as something tore his hoodie and scraped down his back, cutting through the vest he wore. With nothing to hold them back any longer large white feathered wings erupted from his back, flapping once or twice, before tucking against his body so as not to get in the way. The demons screeched at him and attacked, only to be repelled by his sword once again. The battle was a short one. The demons were relentless but there had only been four of them. As the last one fell and turned to ash he let the sword drop from his fingers. It never reached the ground. Instead it broke up into golden particles and evaporated.

Body shaking from the strain of combat and the wound on his back he collapsed to the ground on his knees. His hands shook and his stomach rolled from the adrenaline as he tried to get his breathing under control. When the rushing sound finally left his ears he could hear the moans of the injured and dying. Stumbling to his feet he rushed toward the first downed man and knelt. Pressing his hands against the man's torso he tried to give the soldier a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you're going to be okay." He was so shaken from his fight that he forgot his father's first rule, and the most important. 'Never let anyone see you performing a miracle.' He'd argued that what he did was not a miracle but the rule still stood. If people got wind of his abilities his father couldn't do much to protect him from those who would wish to abuse his power. But he wouldn't stop now. Seeing someone in so much pain compelled him to help, and damn the consequences.

The man beneath his hands gasped and started muttering in awe as his power flooded the soldier's frame. Going from being cut in half to being perfectly fine again in minutes would be a pretty big shock to anyone. Getting up he moved to the next man whose back was nothing more than shredded flesh and did the same thing. The blood and mess didn't bother him as his jeans were soaked through. At one point he even threw off his wrecked hoodie and vest so it would stop getting in the way. Leaving him in jeans and a ripped t-shirt.

By the time he was finished healing the last man's injuries the other soldiers had returned and were talking amongst themselves. The piles of ash were poked with their affixed bayonets and the newly healed men were examined by what he thought might have been their medic. With a tired sigh he stood and moved away from the stunned soldier, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Expending that much energy was a little tiring and his head had begun to hurt, buzzing with words and phrases that he shouldn't have been able to understand. Of course he'd learned long ago that language was no barrier to him. No matter what language was spoken he was able to both understand and speak it fluently. Even if he had never learned it before. Jokingly his brother referred to it as 'speaking in tongues.'

"Excuse me." He finally said when the men didn't seem very keen on addressing him. Immediately all talking ceased and he was suddenly the center of attention. "I'm afraid I'm a little lost. Would you gentlemen mind pointing me in the right direction?" Blank stares met his question and he suddenly felt very awkward. His wings shifted on his back nervously and the men seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were in. "R-right. O-o-of course My Lord, th-this way." He felt his cheeks go faintly red in embarrassment. Lord? He'd only ever heard his father called Lord, and it was a very rare occasion. Brigadier General Lawrence Elwood Ackland much preferred his military rank to what he considered a 'frivolous title.'

What followed was a careful trek through the destroyed town, the men around him watching everything as if some horrific monster was going to jump out. Considering the demons he'd killed earlier he could understand their apprehension. After a half hour of walking through the desolation he could see a bunch of large military tents set up in a cleared area. Snipers and guards were posted around, keeping an eye out for incoming dangers. The men were greeted by the guards, who gave them startled looks of confusion at the state of their uniforms. Considering that he could only heal wounds and not fabric a couple of them looked a real mess. "What the fuck happened to you guys?" He frowned a little at the language but made no comment. Knowing and living around soldiers he understood that they had a certain way about them. Both his father and older brother had a strange, dark, sense of humor, among other things.

"We were ambushed by Daemonettes. This guy," he motioned toward the teen who smiled weakly, "literally put me back together. After I was cut in half!" With that first statement the floodgates opened and the men all started talking at once. "He killed them with a sword! A sword made of Light!"

"I could see my spine, then just like that the pain was gone and I was whole again!"

"He must have been sent to us by the Emperor!" Giving them all an apprehensive look he could feel his feathers puff up defensively. This had the detrimental effect of drawing attention to his very obvious wings. The checkpoint guardsmen's jaws dropped in awe and he suddenly wanted to fall through the ground. Normally he wasn't all that shy, being a very friendly individual. But being stared at in open awe was unsettling.

"Right, okay, head on through." With little prompting they ushered him past the checkpoint and into the camp. Walking past the first couple of tents, and nearly being knocked over by a woman wearing strange armor who looked vaguely nun-like, he quickly came to realize that this was not a camp but a triage center. Everywhere he looked were the wounded and the dying. Stopping in his tracks he felt his fingers begin to itch and hands twitch. The men with him stopped when he did and looked at him oddly. "My Lord, the Command tent is still quite a ways away." He didn't even hear the man. He was too busy staring in horror at the men left to die because there weren't enough healers to see to them all. No one tried to stop him as he lurched toward the first stretcher, falling to his knees. Hands glowing he pressed them against the man's head and thigh. The gash that had taken the soldier's eye and his missing leg started to grow back almost immediately. The soldiers he had saved from the demons milled around, watching him with nigh worship in their eyes.

Getting up he moved to the next stretcher. The man's chest had a nasty hole through it and he was gurgling as liquid filled his lungs. Leaving behind another healed soldier he moved to the next dying man. Noticing the guardsmen standing around one of the armored women came forward angrily, intent on telling them off and forcing them out of the tent. Her eyes fell on the winged teen and she froze, mouth falling open. Flesh mended before her eyes and she exhaled a breath in awe. Once the initial moment of shock and awe passed she realized the soldiers were standing in the way and marched toward them. "You lot, out. Return to your posts." The men hesitated as they looked between the teen and the angry hospital nun. Her eyes narrowed and they decided not to fight with the armored woman, it was clear who would win.

[POV Sarge]

Outside the tent the men deliberated on what should be done. "We need to report to Command. He should be fine here. I don't really want to stop him from fixing up our mates, do you?" Everyone shook their heads. "Should one of us stay here, Sarge? Just in case?" A thoughtful look crossed the man's face. "Duncan, you stay. Keep as close as you can and watch the kid." He didn't know when he'd begun to think of what had to be a Saint sent by the Emperor himself as 'kid' but honestly? He looked like a raw recruit who'd never held a gun in his life. No armor, strange clothes, and a wide eyed stare so full of innocence it made Sergeant Janus want to look away in shame.

Heading to the back of the camp they hitched a ride with a transport going back to the regimental headquarters. When they finally arrived Sarge dismissed his squad. "Head to the Mess, I'll find you there when I'm done." 'If they don't kill me.' He thought to himself.

With the lieutenant dead and the captain in the field he'd have to go straight to command. Taking a moment to steel himself he headed to the command tent to make his report. Inside there were scribes furiously typing and message runners going in and out. Just his luck the major was in. And the colonel… and the commissar. Nothing showed on his face but he could already feel the sweat rolling down his spine. Snapping a perfect parade salute he waited anxiously to be acknowledged. After a few moments the major finally acknowledged him. "Report, Sergeant."

Letting his hand drop he scrambled for a moment, trying to explain the situation in a way that would not get him executed. "I'm here to report the death of Lieutenant Watnim." He paused a moment to compose himself. "It started when a portal opened ahead of us. The lieutenant attempted to hold his position in anticipation of reinforcements, however he was swiftly over-run by the demonic horde. After his position was over-run I ordered a fighting withdrawal to rally point Alpha-2." He heard the distinct sound of a holster buckle being undone and quickly hurried on. "Three kilometers out we were ambushed by a band of four daemonettes and were swiftly engaged in melee. It happened so fast I didn't see where he came from, I assume it was the building adjacent. But there a boy of about fourteen or fifteen years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing odd clothes, and wielding a glowing sword." A round of confused stares met this statement. "After his appearance he charged the daemonettes and… with a single blow of his blade the daemons were reduced to ash." A resounding silence met this remark. He hurried on. "One managed to get in a glancing blow, tearing his hooded tunic along the back which revealed a pair of pure white feathered wings. When the daemons were dispatched he let go of his sword and it dissolved into a cloud of golden light. Then approached Corporal Duncan and proceeded to… reassemble him." The colonel stared pointedly at him as he swallowed, preparing to continue his report. He had yet to be executed and he feverishly prayed his luck continued.

"Explain, Sergeant." He gave a short nod. "Corporal Duncan had been pounced upon by one one the daemonettes and had been bifurcated. The boy knelt beside the Corporal, laid his hands upon him, and was enveloped in a golden glow. Before our eyes his body knit itself back together. When the boy was finished not even his previous scars remained. Then he moved on to Private Gameson who had suffered extreme lacerations to his back. From there we continued on to rally point Alpha-2."

The colonel leaned closer, his countenance stern. "And where is this boy now?"

"My squad left him under the guard of Corporal Duncan and the Sisters Hospitaller. When we left he was already in the middle of healing all the guardsmen present. It was decided that we should come to make a full report at all haste." Finally finished he stood there under the full attention of the entire regiments senior command staff. By now his entire back was drenched in sweat. The only saving grace being the flak armor that hid it from sight.

From the other side of the room the Commissar stepped forward. "I'd like to meet this boy. Take us to him." The man said softly. He had no need to raise his voice as he spoke with the authority of the Emperor himself. "Yes sir."

Following behind the colonel and the commissar he walked more like an automaton than a man. Talk around camp had already spread so they had an audience as they made their way to the colonel's valkyrie. The entire trip he was sat across from the commissar. He could have sworn that fucker was smirking at him the whole way. When they finally touched down he practically slid out onto the ground. Only the sheer terror kept him going.

Walking behind the colonel and the commissar, who had taken the lead, they came upon a huge commotion. It took little effort for the commissar to part the gathered soldiery.

[POV Torvus]

As they passed through the crowd it was hard to ignore the state of their uniforms. Torn, tattered, soaked in blood, and in many cases missing large portions. In those instances of largely exposed flesh he could see perfectly unmarred skin, like that of a babe. Passing through the last ring of the crowded soldiers he found the hospitallers standing around the bent form of a young, blonde, winged, boy. The sergeant had not been attempting to weave an elaborate tale to save himself from the act of cowardice. Glancing back to the sergeant he could see the man relax minutely.

The hospitallers parted to let him get a closer look at the boy. The sight was truly a marvel. He glowed with the divine light of the Emperor himself. The wounds he could see on the soldier's body were melding themselves back together before his very eyes. When he was finished the boy stood and turned around. His face was youthful, as had been said, and his eyes were a clear, unclouded, blue. He took a step, smiling, before his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he collapsed forward… right into the commissar. If he hadn't reached out to catch him the boy would have hit the ground hard. The colonel had to turn away a moment to compose himself before clearing his throat. "Someone find a stretcher for this lad, he has done us a great service."

A stretcher seemed to materialize almost instantly and, with more care than anyone had ever seen before, the commissar laid the boy gently upon it. "He'll be coming back to headquarters with us." The sisters looked ready to protest but the colonel and the commissar stood fast. "Duncan, grab that side." The commissar glanced at the sergeant then to the corporal. It was clear the boy had endeared himself to the squad he'd saved from the daemonettes. He let them be.

"It appears as though we'll have to wait for answers. I imagine performing such a miraculous feat has taken a lot out of the boy." Commissarr Torvus nodded toward the colonel to indicate he'd heard the man. The sisters had swarmed him and were expressing their fervent belief that the boy was some kind of saint. They had used everything in their power to test the boy for any daemonic taint or corruption. But nothing had effected him. Holy water, incense, chanting, they'd even prodded at him with the bone of an imperial saint. All it had done was make the boy look at them oddly and shoo them away as his attention was focused solely on the wounded.

The trip back to headquarters was a quiet one. The soldiers seemed to relax around the sleeping winged boy, though they frequently watched him in fear whenever they thought he wasn't focused on them. When they landed a crowd gathered almost immediately to see what all the fuss was about. Gossip spread like wildfire in a camp, even one of this size. The sight of the boy made some start muttering prayers under their breath, though most just gaped, dumbfounded. They took the boy to the medical station to be looked over by the regimental surgeon. If the hospitallers were under some kind of compulsion it would poorly effect their findings. Other than the obvious wings the boy appeared to have no other signs of mutation.

"What's going on here?" The man asked as the boy was brought in and set down on an examination table. He was set face down, carefully, so as not to damage his wings. The man looked incredulously between the colonel, commissar, and the boy. "I want a full examination. I want to know what he is." Blinking at the colonel he turned to look over the boy and nodded slowly. "Yes sir. I'll report my findings once I'm done." Colonel Ravun led the way out of the curtained room, followed by Commissar Torvus and the two soldiers.

"You and your men are relieved of your duties for the rest of the day, Sergeant. Go eat, find your squad, and rest up." The men were too well trained to show any hesitation, especially in the presence of a commissar. They gave a proper salute and hurried away, leaving the two officers alone. Commissar Torvus reached up and adjusted his hat thoughtfully. "Shall we retire to my tent for a drink?" Colonel Ravun gave him a knowing look and they left the surgeon to his work.

Once inside the commissars tent Torvus set down his hat and pulled out a bottle of amasec. Pouring it into two snifters he handed one to the colonel who was leaning against the desk nearby. The man took the glass, raised it with a polite nod, and sipped at the alcohol. Torvus held the glass in his palm, warming the liquid before drinking. "Let's not beat about the bush, Ravun. This discovery could cause quite a stir within the Imperium. If the boy truly is some kind of Saint then the Ecclesiarchy will certainly be getting involved." The man frowned. "If the Inquisition doesn't get their hands on him first." A pensive silence filled the tent. Ravun downed his drink and Torvus sighed. "The only thing we can realistically do is kick this up the chain. And pray to the Emperor that this doesn't come back to bite us." Torvus huffed and sipped at his drink. "All we can do is wait for word on the boy's condition. We can make a plan from there." Silence fell again. Walking across the room the colonel set his glass down and poured himself another drink. Torvus raised a brow but didn't say anything. He understood the sentiment. If they didn't handle this correctly things could go very, very, wrong for them. The wait would not be a comfortable one.