(Chapter 3: Mykæl)

I lived in a nightmare, I would think of it as good and said no gone with a feeling the made us so cold while getting the madness it's crawling in us solitary psycho a sickening badness…

It had never dawned on me that when I was away doing my own picking that Judès would have company over, I mean, I used to until I we moved down into Reims.

"Hva er den tingen å gjøre her inne?"

It took Judès a few seconds to figure out what I had said for some reason.

Was he really that slow at understanding me now? Why was this creature here? Why did he not tell me in advance?

"Mykæl, alt est gut… Ce n'est pas mal, il s'appelle Xionn." Judès touched the thing next to him; I cringed when it blushed at his touch.

I did not need reasons or lies why it was here in this crumby run down shack. Why wouldn't Judès just kill it like he usually did? I did not care; I would either kill it myself or scare it out of this city.

I knew exactly what it was, an Angel.

I never thought of myself as a darkened creature but living with a demon can spark a cold heart over anything you disapprove of or simply hated.

Anima's used to be the main source of power and brutality of Valhalla until Henah banished every single one of us. My parents told me stories of constant injustice within the reign of the all-powerful Goddess; she sent them out like Chess Pieces to do as she so pleased. Constantly wanting this and that, the Animas finally figured it was their time to revolt against the monarchy of holy power, against Henah and the Angels...

When I was young, my far would take me into the market place and sing for money. My mor had left our home when I was an infant, so I had no connection to her.

My far was the Clan head, and I was his little prince, he taught me everything I needed to take over when it was my time. This saddened me a bit, the thought of far gone was terrifying: I would actually be alone.

Whenever my far was having a bad day I would show up at the right time and playing my Cello for him. After I had played a few measures he would always join in, with the melodic voice he could conceive. When he was feeling better he would always sweep me up off my feet and take me to the roof of the Great Hall.

"This is why I sing, and this is why you play... so we can thrive until the end," Far would pluck a feather from his sail like wings, and instruct me to do the same.

"We give, to receive Mykæl, when the time comes you will understand," and we would release the two painted feathers into the night sky.

"Far, when I grow stronger, you will be my guide. You will still be strong and will remain honored by the stammen," I looked at my wings and then at his. We had the same marks and color pallets, of black and white; however he had red tips on each wing.

"My sønn: you have great ambitions, you will be boundless." I will never forget those words, since it was his last he spoke to me...