Into the Sky

by SculptedRage

Lovino Vargas is heir to Heaven's throne. However, things go awry after a horrible murder during the celebration. Then, Lovino has disappeared. 1 year later, Lovino is sighted on Earth. But it appears that he has banded with demons. Determined to bring Lovino home, Feliciano sets out with his friends and mentors on the adventure of his life through the celestial realms. Brief Sum!

2. Chapter 2

"What if you tried it blindfolded?" suggests Feliciano. "Let the magic guide you, y'know?"

"Feliciano," Lovino huffs, wiping his sweat-covered brow as he lowers himself from the air. "That is the dumbest thing you've come up with yet."

"How so?" Feliciano challenges, arms crossed. "I think you're focusing too hard. You should let the routine direct you, not yourself."

"Yeah, maybe direct myself into a wall, too, huh?"

"I'm only trying to help…"

I don't need your help. A vicious voice bites back in Lovino's mind. Your input would be better from the grave, smothering imbecile… Lovino pulls at his lip with his teeth, as if to ensure that the words inside his thoughts don't leave his mouth. The unnerving comments in his head have become more constant, harder to hold back and ignore. They don't appear without frustration.

"Yeah, well you can't help," He forces out instead; he knows it's blunt, rude, even, to backhand his brother like that, but it it's all he can do to replace the threatening impulse in his mind.

You have to prove it.

The familiar reminder pops up in Lovino's head, and he finds himself agreeing with it. Besides—it is true. This routine is his performance made by him . Feliciano's advice won't help. It can't. Somehow his younger brother simply doesn't understand that no matter how many times Lovino reminds him. Still, the hurt-puppy look and the pouted lip that Feliciano sports works its purpose to drive a pang of guilt into Lovino. He sighs.

"Look," he starts. "This is my thing, alright? I can do this."

"I never said you couldn't," Feliciano says. "I just think you're going too hard on yourself. It looks like you're fighting not to slip all the time."

"It does?"
"Yeah. You look really gross doing it, too. Your face is all scrunched up, like you're constipated but you can't go—"

" Alright , I get it, Feliciano," Lovino rolls his eyes as much as he could to drive the point of how ridiculous Feliciano's comments could be. He sits down on the bench with a plop, letting his sore legs stretch out in front of him. Feliciano joins him at his side.

"Hey, Feli?"

"What?"

"Do you ever feel like your point of action isn't controlled by your central consciousness?"

"Do I ever feel like my what isn't what now?"

"Y'know," Lovino shrugs, leaning over his knees. "Like your actions aren't always driven out by your own accord. Feeling like something, or someone , else is driving your being around, influencing you." Lovino grasps at the air for words that didn't come, his hands falling limp with defeat. How in Heaven is he supposed to explain this, and to his brother, of all angels? There's no way Feliciano could understand. "Forget it." Lovino sighs.

"What?" Feliciano straightens, his expression worried, as if he has failed to see into Lovino's vulnerability. "No, don't leave it—" He can already see the dismissal in Lovino's eyes, his attempts coming to no avail. However, Lovino's quietness leaves him another opportunity.

"You'll be a good leader." He says, "You don't need to worry about not living up to Romulus."

Lovino's shoulders stiffen at that, surprised with the abruptness of the statement. Then again, he shouldn't need to be so shocked; despite his nonchalantly clueless complexion, Feliciano is no shallow angel. The surface-area façade ends at his joking smile; his eyes can see deeply into others and their situations. Albeit younger, Feliciano holds wisdom beyond his years. Even knowing this, though, Lovino is still caught by surprise, left stuttering. "I know that. I'll be fine."

"I know you will," Feliciano assures. "You've just had a lot on your shoulders. You don't have to carry it alone, you know."

Lovino chuckles. Yup, and now Feli is working his sweetness charm, using his gift for comforting. "I know. I can count on you."

"Yes, you can!" grins Feliciano. "I won't let you fall."

"Heh," Lovino huffs a laugh. Of course Feliciano would say something corny like that. However, the voice in his mind has quieted, letting the other's statement sit in his head. Arching his back with a few unpleasant pops, Lovino stretches with a long yawn. "Well, I think I'm beat for tonight. I'm putting the lid on training today."

"I think that's a good idea," Feliciano agrees, standing with his brother. "Soon enough you'll be through—no more training."

"Oh, that'll be the day," Lovino smiles a bit, following Feliciano out. At the door, he pauses, glancing back into the spacious room. Feliciano is right; soon enough he would move to the training room to the throne. Hopefully by then he would have forgotten all the stress of magic can the angels around him, and most of all, the odd voice in his head.

Inevitably, the day of the celebration arrives. Weeks spent in rigorous training and studying would finally pay off; all those sore night's would be worth it. In the days leading up to the ceremony, Lovino has been relentless in his practice, often spending more than half the day in the large, bulbous room. More than once Feliciano has to fetch him in order to convince Lovino to join for dinner. There are times he honestly feels as if he were forcing Lovino out of the room rather than inviting him. Lovino had needed that time, though, and he knows it himself. Despite his dedication to his performance, he knows he can't remain in endless training for more than a day without going insane.

Said training has paid off, however. The steps to the dance are practically seared into Lovino's brain by the time the week of the celebration arrives. He finds himself mimicking the steps as he walks down the halls or absently waving his arms in the practiced gestures during a conversation. Such improvement has boosted Lovino's confidence, and soon he begins looking at the ceremony with excited anticipation instead of the gut-dropping dread.

Another blessing that has come around is the newly gained peace of mind. Within the past few weeks, Lovino's racing thoughts have quelled to a peaceful ripple. Accompanying the tranquility is the absence of noise—to be specific, the absence of a certain voice. The sneering hiss has made its way into the shadows of Lovino's head, staying there and avoiding the surface of his thoughts. The irritation has lessened as well, and Lovino finds himself enjoying practice more than hating it, tolerating the few times he must start over.

Thus, the days pass by. Along with practicing in the chamber, Lovino spends his time assisting to the preparations in the town square. The village outside Lovino's residence is where the celebration would be held—the ground holding the history of crowning Rulers of Heaven. It's where Romulus had been appointed hundreds of years before, and now Lovino himself would stand there. The young angel finds enjoyment in helping others set up the decorations and stands; it's interesting to see how everything is assembled together behind the scenes.

Feliciano is as excited as Lovino, likely even more so. The boy constantly holds a grin of anticipation whenever around Lovino, making jokes of his future Ruler of a brother. Lovino appreciates the shared enthusiasm as well as the company of his sibling, often seeking to partner with him whenever he has the time to help with the town. Feliciano will always remind Lovino of why he is looking forward to the ceremony to come.

And, eventually, it's here.

Grunting under the weight of the crate, Lovino hefts the box of tools into the shelf inside the storage shed. Final preparations are nearly finished, and it is only be a matter of a couple hours before the ceremony officially begins. Already angels from the edges of Heaven are gathering; the Angelic Army lines the sides of the streets in solutes, regular citizens fill the sidewalks, and even holograms for broadcasting the event are scattered through the air. To say the celebration would be busy is an understatement.

Luckily for him, Lovino's training has officially ended with satisfactory triumph, so assisting in decorating the town has been his time of relaxation. Feliciano, Ludwig, and Gilbert had hung out with him as he stringed along colorful banners, banter bouncing between the four of them before Gilbert and Ludwig were summoned elsewhere. Feliciano had stayed for a while more until Romulus had requested his presence. It was probably for some statement at the celebration or perhaps even something for afterwards.

Maybe I'll get a party when this is all done, Lovino thinks as he dusts off the shelf underneath where he had set the crate. A party would definitely be nice—a carefree, fun way to end an important day.

You'll be a slacker, a familiar hiss seethes in the back of Lovino's head. Obviously, its silence had been temporary, much to Lovino's despair. Ruler's don't get to have fun.

While Lovino could argue that Romulus has had lots of fun, especially thanks to himself and Feliciano, the voice does have a point. If Lovino went from the coronation to a free-for-all party— well, it certainly wouldn't appear very professional for his first day of duty.

You forget—today is the day you sign your life away. While everyone else continues with their normal days, you are going to be alone. You won't have anyone to stand by you.

Now that thought isn't true...at least, that's what Lovino hopes. He would have Feliciano with him, wouldn't he? And Ludwig, and Gilbert, too, as annoying as he could be.

But...Feliciano, Ludwig, and Gilbert, wouldn't always be around to keep him company— Lovino wouldn't be around. He would be kept up with duties and projects to oversee. He wouldn't have the extra time to be around his friends. The concept of even being able to see them at all now teetered with doubt in Lovino's head.

You'll be so lonely. Eventually they'll stop caring, though, and soon they'll even forget your face.

Lovino steps back and clutches his shirt. No. Feliciano would never forget him. He's his own brother for Heaven's sake! He wouldn't toss Lovino aside like that. His head had spouted nonsense. He wouldn't believe it—in fact, he'd just ignore it all for now; he'd clean the silky fabric of his clothes from any dirt, head back to the celebration, give his performance—

"I'll put them right in here!" The call comes from outside the shed, jolting Lovino out of his thoughts. Someone else is coming, and they're coming quickly. Lovino has hardly turned around before a shadow fills the doorway—someone with a crate similar to Lovino's. They pause at the entrance, silent. Then Lovino hears a scoff, then a familiar, mocking snicker.

"Well, look who I ran into—it's the miniature old hag."

"Sadiq," Lovino breathes out as he recognizes the snarky voice, the name deflates with his shoulders. Sadiq steps inside, filling the empty space. Lovino moves aside, although he is sent stumbling with a rough shove from Sadiq as the other angel passes by. He braces himself against the wall with an irritated grunt.

"Fancy seeing you here in this dust," says Sadiq as he lifts and pushes his crate onto the shelf with ease. He snorts, spitting at the ground before turning to face Lovino, chin cocked back and arms crossed. "I figured you'd be getting your feathers preened and whitened for your big day." He snickers.

Lovino's brow twitches in annoyance, and he let: out a breath of his own. "I'm helping with preparations." He answers simply.

"Really? A prince doing work?" Sadiq asks, aghast. Feigning such shock, he lifts his hand in an exaggerated gesture, waving his fingers through the air. "Heaven truly has changed if rich, pompous angels like you are actually lending their presence in assistance."

Lovino lets out a dramatic groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head. There's no time to deal with this fool. Lovino can't tell if that thought belonged to the voice in his head or his own mind. Either way, he agrees. With an exasperated sigh, Lovino raises an eyebrow, "What do you want, Sadiq? Did the bar kick out your old man or something?"

Ooh, that comment strikes a nerve. Sadiq's wings suddenly bristle, his lip curling into a seething snarl. In a swift turn around, Sadiq snatches Lovino by his shirt, his hot breath landing on the other angel's face in aggravated huffs. "Watch your tongue, twig, or I'll rip it right out."

"It'd behoove you to do the same," glares Lovino. "Learn to get your high elsewhere instead of bothering me all the time."

"What, and let you live out your days in ignorance? Let you continue living as the spoiled brat you are without punishment? I don't think so."

"That's what this is?" Lovino scoffs. "A punishment? For what? Look, I'm sorry if I was born in a family that wasn't so messed up like yours. Not everyone needs to be related to a deadbeat coward—"

"Shut your jabbering mouth!" Furious, Sadiq shoves Lovino to the wall, knocking his head against the wood. Lovino grimaces, pushing at Sadiq's arm to pry him off. The other angel is bigger in build, however, and Lovino's efforts fall in vain.

"Everyone knows why you beat on other angels," Lovino spats, struggling against Sadiq's hold. "Because your father was a coward! He fought in the same war my grandfather was in—but he ran! He ran with his tail between his legs! He was nothing but a lowly coward! He—"

"I told you to shut your mouth!" This time Lovino receives a bout of knuckles to the face, the hit sending waves of pain through his jaw. Sadiq's seething voice comes through the ringing in Lovino's ears. "You're one to talk about family. Cared for by your grandfather who sent your mommy and pappy out to war—only for them to never come back. Call my pops a coward, but at least he gave a second thought about me instead of abandoning his own kid. Fought nobly, my ass—who knows? Maybe your parents wanted to off themselves in war to relinquish the burden of taking care of you. You were such a brat they couldn't cope with raising you. I bet that's why Romulus is handing off the throne now—to find some peace without such a prick to look after."

Heat swells in Lovino's throbbing cheeks, his throat tightening. "You're wrong." is all he can choke out in fury. No. That isn't true. It isn't true at all. Lovino's parents...they had chosen to fight. They had been soldiers of Heaven, and they knew they had to fight for the greater good…! They hadn't left because of… No, they had loved Feliciano and himself, they wouldn't—! And Romulus…

"Am I, though?" Sadiq sneers. "Who would actually want to take care of you? You're moody, spoiled, arrogant… Should I continue? Deny me all you want, but that's what everyone thinks. Everyone knows you're not cut out to be king—you never were." Snarling, he presses Lovino harder against the wall, his arm across the smaller angel's neck, pushing against his throat. "You hearing me? You're not good enough to rule Heaven. Your parents knew that, and they decided that they would rather die than see you be crowned."

"Shut up…!" Lovino growls, teeth gnashing. He claws at Sadiq towering over him. "You don't know that! It's not true!"

Sadiq snatches Lovino's slender wrist, pushing back on his hand to the point of pain. "Everyone knows it!" He snaps back at Lovino, spittle nailing the other angel's cheek. "Everyone knows what a failure you are! Everyone knows how you're going to mess up!"

Everyone knows…

They know you'll mess up.

They know you're not fit to rule.

They know.

Sadiq's voice and the one in Lovino's head begin to blur in a painful manner, but their words ring clearly, pounding themselves into his skull. Each tormenting comment boils Lovino's blood hotter and hotter to the point where steam is certainly hissing from his ears. He isn't going to mess up; he had practiced this routine until his fingers bled. Besides, Romulus had gone over every detail with Lovino until he had reached perfection—there was no chance that he could fail. Lovino knows this, he knows Sadiq is wrong, but…

You have to prove it.

Everything freezes. The pressure of Sadiq's arm fades into nothing but a light touch; the hard surface of the wall disappears. Lovino stands alone, the walls around him vaporizing into a pie white light. Said light expands all around him, leaving the space empty, all except for Sadiq's figure in front of him. Before him, Sadiq doesn't appear quite like Sadiq. Shadows bubble from is arms, floating off in a wispy, black liquid. The dark aura encases Sadiq's body, seeping into his eyes and tinting them a harsh yellow. Rage, aggression, disgust—they all radiate from Sadiq's form, blasting Lovino with insults and malice. This isn't Sadiq at all, this is—

Your enemy.

The whisper kisses the back of Lovino's ear, prickling the hairs on his neck. The urge to snap around sends his heart racing, but his feet hold their position. Does he dare want to see the owner of the voice? Would there even be someone there? Instead he trains his eyes on Sadiq.

You must destroy him.

Destroy Sadiq…? But how? Lovino can't even think—! This is another angel, not some ruthless monster to put down!

Does he really look like an angel to you?

Lovino blinks, getting another glimpse at Sadiq, studying him. The dark shadows have grown, spreading wider and wider. The anger has increased its intensity, tightening the air around Lovino in a crushing grip.

Your job as Ruler is to vanquish all that is evil.

He's right in front of you.

He's revealed himself as evil.

If you are truly capable of your future…

.

.

.

Prove it.

Lovino's throat clenches tightly, the back of his head exploding in pain. The white vanishes, melting away to a blurry scene before him. As his vision clears, Lovino focuses on the ground. Hair has fallen over his eyes, and someone is shaking him. His attention is caught by a sudden red splatter on the ground, then the throbbing near the center of his face.

"Are you even listening? What happened, did the poor prince faint?!"

The static clears from Lovino's ears, allowing the piercing yells to come through. Lovino barely registers the words before a force drives into his gut, expelling any air left in his lungs. His knees buckle beneath him, although the hand pressing against his shoulder doesn't allow Lovino to fall.

"Pick up your head, you prick! Look me in the face when I'm talking to you!" Sadiq continues to scream, shoving Lovino harder against the wall. "Do you hear me? Pick up your head, I said! Pick it up! Pick it—" Sadiq's next words have hardly left his mouth before he is forcefully shoved back. Wings flapping, he stumbles back into the wall, startling to his feet.

Where he stands, Lovino's arm hangs stiffly outstretched, his palm open over the place Sadiq's chest is. Slowly his neck rolls up, hair limply clinging to his face. Behind bangs, Lovino's golden eyes glare darkly at Sadiq, shadowed in vehement malice.

"You little…" Sadiq seethes, pressing his hand against his fingers in a series of cracks. "You'll pay for that."

Silent, Lovino merely stares at Sadiq before shifting back his shoulders, imitating Sadiq's string of unholy pops. Hands come up in fists, prepared to fight. Seconds later, Sadiq lunges forward, taking the bait and jumping on Lovino with a swinging punch. Lovino quickly blocks the hit with his arm, unflinching to the impact. His own fist swings up in an unexpected attack, nailing Sadiq on the cheek. The larger angel crumples, although on his way down he manages to grab hold of Lovino's leg, jerking it from under him. As he does, however, Lovino brings up his knee, kicking Sadiq down.

Never before has so much rage coursed through Lovino's veins than now as he looks down at Sadiq below him. The pitiful angel is wheezing, one nostril leaking red blood, much like Lovino's own nose had a few minutes before. The utter disgust at Sadiq tightens Lovino's fists, sharpening his glare.

Sadiq looks up at Lovino, mouth agape. "What's wrong with you?"

His eyes narrow at the question, and Lovino remains silent. The lack of answer only angers Sadiq more, and the angel's voice rises into yell.

"I said, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Leaping up, Sadiq charges at Lovino, arms outstretched in fury. The air rushes passed his cheeks, through his fingers that are ready to gouge out Lovino's eyes.

And then it stops.

In an all too swift movement, Lovino halts Sadiq's attack, a tight grip holding his arm and body stubbornly in place. A surge of panic sparks Sadiq's heart rate, the first instinct of struggle taking over his actions. Lovino doesn't let him budge. His grasp traps Sadiq painfully in place.

"You prick…! Let go of me!" Sadiq snaps his eyes up, sending a piercing scowl at Lovino. Although, the sour expression freezes on his face as his eyes meet the other's. Pulled back lips fall into a limp "o" shaped, gasp of fear, and the tension of rage replaces itself with cold terror. Sadiq gawps with mouth agape at the angel before him.

"What's wrong with me?" Lovino seems to say, although Sadiq isn't quite sure if his voice matches the words. Hell, he can hardly tell if Lovino's mouth is even moving—his vision has begun to spasm, his focus going in and out. Lovino's not-so-Lovino voice continues. "What's wrong with you , Sadiq. What is wrong with an angel whose heritage is unholy? What happens to the creation of such disgrace to the pure line?"

Sadiq's legs begin to shake. This isn't right.

His heart pounds in his ears, leaving them ringing. It beats against his ribs as if it were a panicked animal, desperate to escape this trapped situation; Sadiq is almost sure one of the bones will break.

"Well?"

He has to get out—has to run…! But his feet, they're planted on the floor. He's stuck, unable to move.

"They're wiped from the face of Heaven."

Lovino jerks his shoulders, twisting Sadiq's arm mercilessly. The larger angel bites out a scream, not having time to react before a sickening crack sounds from his arm. His vision, which has slowly been clearing, now blurs in agony, and his legs give out from under him. Lovino doesn't let him meet the floor, holding Sadiq up by his now snapped appendage. Sadiq's wings flap and beat against the wall in a frantic attempt to escape, but Lovino's grip only tightens.

"What—What the hell, man?!" Sadiq wheezes, groaning. "Let go—stop…!"

Lovino's mutated eyes only continue to bore into Sadiq. Maintaining his grasp on Sadiq with one hand, he brings up the other, forming a hot, glowing fist. Fingers teeming with the scorching heat of melted metal trace up to Sadiq's frantic wing, clamping down upon it. Beneath Lovino's hand Sadiq's white feathers shrivel into ashes. Smoke forms from wound.

Under Lovino, Sadiq releases another scream of agony, his eyes shut tight and cheeks pulled taut. His back arches in his attempts to writhe out of Lovino's iron hold, and his knees kick out in a vain attempt to escape. His feet pound against Lovino's shins, but the other boy remains sturdily planted in place, unfazed by Sadiq's desperate movements.

Mercilessly Lovino's fingers tighten around the wing, nails digging into the flesh. Once the feathers around the area of his hand have all but disintegrated, Lovino pulls the wing back, straining the tendons under the skin and bone. It elicits another pained howl from Sadiq, although Lovino's ears have grown deaf to the sounds of suffering. Instead they are replaced by the urging commands of the voice, which have now seemed to split into multiple, each with their own orders.

Snap it off.

Vanquish him.

This is what you were meant to do.

This is the sign of a true ruler.

The wicked words caress Lovino's cheeks in dark encouragement, entrancing him in sickening pride. His grip grows ever tighter, his pulling grows ever stronger.

That's it. Good.

Now come...

Come see…

See what a real Ruler accomplishes…

The invisible hands around his face drift, luring Lovino to follow. Cajoled by the sickening tenderness, Lovino leans into the echoing calls. Seeing what a real Ruler could accomplish...yes. That's what he wants...to see… Lovino needs only to trust the voice before him. Trust, and he would see. He would make everyone—Romulus—proud to have him on the throne. He wouldn't let anyone down anymore. He would rise above expectations.

And so, Lovino allows himself to be enveloped.

Lovino isn't sure how long he remains suspended, floating in the darkness. In such a place, time seems irrelevant, disappearing into the shadows that encase him. However, it eventually comes to an end, the emptiness becoming un-emptied.

The ground solidifies under his feet; the weight of gravity returns; the musty smell fills his nostrils. Lovino is back in the shed, blinking rapidly against the light pouring in from the door. It's so bright so fast. He is back so quickly, yet… when has he left? There's an obvious gap of time that is filled with what, Lovino doesn't know. An erased memory, distant yet present, like being pulled from a dream…

But this hasn't been a dream. No, he had never been asleep. Lovino recollects: he had been helping with the festival...had offered to put away a box of supplies...gone to the shed...just about to leave when…

"M-My stars!"

Lovino jolts, head whipping to the open shed door. There stands an angel—a normal face of a citizen of heaven, contorted in horror.

Had Lovino missed something? Sheds usually aren't places of fright. He checks around himself to be sure, his gaze scanning the walls and ceiling for any ominous omens he may have overlooked. He finds nothing. The angel is still shivering in the door in shock, mumbling fabric strings of unfinished words. Lovino doesn't understand—he had simply gone in here to put something away, and Sadiq had come.

Lovino turns to find Sadiq—perhaps the latter would offer him an explanation. Sadiq isn't where Lovino had left him. His search falls to the floor.

The exclamation is but a shallow exhale. "Oh…" There's Sadid, in a pool of blood. He's lying crumpled on the floor as if he were a discarded puppet, limbs tangled and limp. He lies face-up, a mess of black and red. Where his eyes should be is nothing but molten flesh, two empty abysses staring emptily into nothingness. Underneath the blood, Lovino sees his mouth, frozen mud-scream, stiff and voiceless.

A sick feeling roils in Lovino's stomach.

Frantic, he lifts his head to the door. Thankfully, the other angel hasn't left, frozen in shocked fright. Lovino steps forward, his voice but a croak still first, dry tongue fumbling to choke the words out. "P-Please...help…"

The whites of the other angel's eyes only widen further, and he lets out a cry of terror. He throws up his hands in front of him, cowering. "Don't move!"

Lovino furrows his brow, confused and dazed. Don't move…? No, no, he needs to move—to get help. Sadiq is… Lovino lifts a desperate hand, begging, "No, please…"

He trails off, his eyes leaving from the angel and falling onto his hand, which doesn't—it doesn't appear quite right. Speckles of red scatter along the back of his hand, growing larger and closer as they trace up his fingers, the tips stained crimson. As he sees it, he begins to feel it, all sticky and warm, covering more than merely his hand but his legs, torso, and face, too. Suddenly, it's all over him, both fresh and drying, smelling of heated copper.

The air leaves his lungs. He can't breathe.

It becomes unsettlingly quiet, the world around Lovino drowned out by the heavy thump thump thumping of his pulse. His gaze still wavers over his hand like that of a shaky camera, and blackness begins to creep into the corners of his vision. What in Heaven had happened? How did Sadiq…? And Lovino…? Suddenly it feels too hot, too claustrophobic in the tiny shed. The old shelves along the walls protrude further and further, taking up all the breathable space; the dust weighs down the air, crawls into Lovino's lungs, clogging his airway. Lovino tries to cough, but his chest only spasms, his body disobeying him.

He can't breathe.

He needs to breathe.

He needs to run.

Run!

The command jumps out of nowhere, startling him. He sucks in a breath of long-awaited air, and with that, everything falls back into motion. The angel at the door has pulled up a hologram, typing anxiously into it.

He's going to call someone. He's going to report this. Lovino will be taken away.

Run!

The second time spurs Lovino into action, his legs propelling him forward. The other angel barely manages to lift his head, his mouth forming in a scream, before Lovino shoves past him, stumbling out into the streets.

The sun hits his face, stopping him in his tracks. Where does he go? Where can he go? Lovino frantically searches around, looking from one street to the next, trying to make out the words on the signs, to figure out where to go. Angels are all around still preparing for the celebration—they pay no mind to Lovino at first.

Then there's a shocked gasp, followed by a scream. Something drops, crashing to the ground with a noise. An angel holds the side of her face in one hand, the other pointing straight at Lovino. In seconds, more attention is drawn, followed by cries of terror and confusion. Some yells for the guards. The previous peace of jubilation crashes to the ground.

Lovino's knees tremble beneath him. He backs up, spinning quickly when another scream sounds from behind. He swivels to see a mother angel yank her child close to her. The child clutches his mother, terror reflecting Lovino's own in his round eyes. Angels begin swarming, panicking and shoving each other out of their way. It's getting crowded. The guards will come and find him soon. Then he'll get taken away, arrested, worse. He needs to get out of there, now. He needs to—

Lovino takes off running.

He doesn't quite need to break through the swarm of angels as they end up parting around him, fearfully leaping back as Lovino pursues forward. The screams and shrieks continue to grow in volume as more see Lovino's blood-covered figure. Soon enough, he hears the heavy footsteps of guards coming from a nearby street; they're searching, unaware that the person they're looking for is the one they were going to celebrate and honor. Arthur and Francis would likely be among them, leading the troops right to Lovino. How would he be able to look them in the eyes? He can already imagine their expressions: mouths gaping with no words to come out, eyes wide in disbelief as well as hurt.

And betrayal .

It stings, but now all that Lovino can do is believe that is true. He skates around another corner, crashing into a vendor's stand. Banners and celebrational toys fly through the air and fall to the ground, breaking and scattering themselves all over the cobblestone. Lovino can only hop over them, barely offering a passing glance to the angels around him. No, his eyes are trained on the ground. His mind is only focused on moving his legs faster and faster, as fast as they need to go to get him out of the area. Thankfully, that's what they do.

Up ahead is the edge of town. The buildings thin, grow sparse until they stop. Then it's merely fields until he reaches the North Sanctus Forest, a dense cluster of looming trees. The soldiers' shouts are nearer, clearer to make out as Lovino suddenly hears:

"Up ahead!

Lovino pushes himself to run harder. Faster, faster, faster! His legs burn furiously, as if hot metal clamps surrounded his calves. But it's just a little further. He can make it; he can still lose them and find a place to hide for a little while. At least until this all clears up. He hasn't heard either Arthur nor Francis, so they still must not know it's him. Maybe he's running so fast that nobody will recognize him. That's what Lovino hopes, at least.

Finally, finally! Lovino's legs take him out of the village. By now his wings have unfurled from behind him, and he spreads them out wide. The guards would soon take to the air after him once they left the town as well. Lovino wouldn't be able to out-fly them. Those angels have been specially trained; they would catch him in minutes. He needs to fly now, it's the only way he might have a chance at escaping. So, with a mighty couple of flaps, Lovino speeds up and leaps from the ground. It's a clumsy start with how frantic it is, and for a moment, Lovino almost comes back down, but before his toes can scrape the ground, he beats his wings against the air as hard as he can, straining every fiber within them. It burns, everything burns, but Lovino's feet stay above the ground, and he continues to rise higher and higher. A wave of relief washes over him. He's made it.

However, that relief is short-lived as a bullet of light whizzes past his ear.

They're shooting at him now?

Something hot nearly grazes his ankle.

Yep. They are definitely shooting at him.

Lovino's wings falter at the realization, and the world is suddenly tipping and tumbling. Air hits him in an icy-hotness, coloring his cheeks red. He fights to keep his eyes open, to keep his vision from blurring with tears.

Faster and faster he falls, flailing and flapping. The soldiers aren't deterred, of course. They continue their fire upon Lovino, thankfully missing him. At least they aren't trying to hit him, it seems—otherwise he would have been falling like a dead duck by this point.

However, even if there is no intent to kill, that won't stop the Heavenly Guard from trying to apprehend Lovino in any way they can. The shots won't be lethal, but they aren't held back from incapacitating him.

As if to prove such a point, Lovino suddenly feels a sharp, burning pain explode through his wing. He cries out, faltering in the air. He can't tell exactly where, but a bullet has surely hit his left wing. A droplet splats onto his leg, warm and sticky.

Keep going, Lovino pushes himself, but his stomach churns at the heated pain encasing his wing. His altitude drops, the strain of staying high becoming too much, and his pace slows. He can't keep this up; Arthur and his soldiers will catch up to him in no time. There must be a way to still manage an escape.

Something large and green catches Lovino's eye. He risks taking his eyes off of the path ahead of him, snatching a glimpse of the ground below. Trees, thousands of them, towering through the low-hanging clouds, their green tips poking through the white. The North Sanctus Forest. He could hide there, use the dense forest as protection and coverage. The guards are still far enough behind him that he might be able to make it.

Agony bursts in the back of his head. Lovino barely manages a scream, his vision swimming and blurring. Arthur must have hit him with a different type of magic projectile, not one to pierce the flesh but to render an appendage useless. Whether or not the angel had intended to hit Lovino's cranium is unknown to him. He feels the world around him begin to disappear at a rapid pace, but if Lovino stops now, he'll be caught.

Up ahead is a massive white pillow—no, a cloud, a gigantic cloud with winds soaring around it. If he can reach it, Lovino can disappear, lose the guards, find safety. But it's already such a struggle to even formulate such an idea—the sky is beginning to tip, blackness starting to creep in the corners of Lovino's vision.

He can't hold out much longer.

So, with the strength he has left, using the pain as one last push, Lovino thrusts his wings and soars forward. Hundreds of tiny, cool water droplets wet his cheeks. His wound stings at the contact, but Lovino hardly notices. His wings fall limp, and he is left to stall momentarily in the air before gradually falling. Lovino blinks heavily, snatching a fuzzy glimpse of the forest. He isn't sure if it will work—perhaps Arthur will still find him and take him in, and this whole effort will have been fruitless—but Lovino angles himself the best he can to land in the trees.

Then he plunges down down down into darkness.