Author's note: Revised & Reposted

-Bert the Nomad

The cathedral was huge, overwhelming in its emptiness, overpowering in its silence. It had been long since abandoned, located deep underground in the forgotten catacombs of the city.

Forgotten.

Alone.

The slow decay of time had inevitably done its damage; the great stain glass windows were blackened, some broken, some just replaced with empty frames. The building in its entirety was immense, two massive towers marking the entrance, laden with rotten sculptures and decaying tile work that stretched upwards into the ceiling.

Along the walls, situated on blackened pedestals and dripping cracked outcrops…were angels.

Hundreds of them.

Their robes fluttered and cracked, their faces frozen and absolute.

They stared.

Arms spread, hands clutching dribbling stone relics, wings outstretched and beautiful.

Their gazes were all aimed upwards, their posture unbroken and defiant against the emptiness of the cathedral. Undying seraphs. Unending guardians.

Except for one.

One angel, blackened by mold and moisture, lay on the cathedral floor...in ruin.

Fallen.

One of its great wings was shattered, crushed beyond recognition against the marble, a mighty stone sword next to it...just out its reach. Its stone eyes were locked with the cieling, its arms up stretched. Far above, one could see its pedestal amidst the many occupied others, the former occupant replaced with a single stone foot broken off at the ankle.

But the angel's gaze wasn't on its pedestal.

It was one something else.

Something far, far away.

Fat warm droplets of water fell from the ceiling, like the after math of a downpour. The entire left wall was covered with withered cracking pipes, all running together to form an incredibly complex organ, the cylinders spreading out from the central keyboard like rays from a sunset. A great hole, he size of the great round stain-glass window that stretched across the back wall rested in the middle of the floor. The surrounding tiles had collapsed into itself, falling into a great underground pool, dark as oil. The seldom drops of moisture that collected on the random outcroppings that were positioned throughout the room echoed as they fell to the floor, endlessly reverberating off the massive stone walls with a gentle ringing sound, changing frequencies as the sizes of the drops varied, humming in an unexpectedly similar tune to the ancient voices of the choirs that once sang in the long forgotten halls.

It was a gothic dream come true. It was the work men put their entire lives into. Every detail was hand crafted. Every stone purposeful. Every fixture decided. It was its own world, cast into a timeless, tired shade of blue and black.

And then…the tranquility was suddenly shattered as the two massive doors at the far end of the hallway opened, casting a single pale beam of blue light across the forgotten sanctuary of the cathedral.

At the base of the great column of light stood a shadow. The sounds of the raindrops were quickly drowned out by a series of heavy drawn out footfalls and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the stone floor, scraping up a thin shower of sparks. The wide brimmed black hat bobbed ever so slightly, leaning from one side to the other as he hauled the large device behind him, inch by inch.

He slowly drew his hand across the room in front of him, and as if activated by switches, individual torches sparked into life one after another, casting the massive room into an atmosphere of jagged shadows and soft flickering light.

The boy released the device, letting his hand fall to his side. For several seconds he just stood there, his mouth opened just a sliver and a thin silver cloud of vapor escaping from his mouth periodically, then, he quickly turned and pressed a small red button in the middle of the oval device with a gloved index finger. As soon as the button was pressed, the machine fractured, expanding outwards and segmenting itself as it activated into the pre-firing stages as jets of steam billowed from the crevices and flowing across the floor. An automated female voice filtered through an unseen speaker.

Activation complete… A small panel opened up at the top of the machine and a thin blue button flickered on.

Firing precautions initiated…awaiting firing command.

The boy exhaled, his breath trembling as his black eyes reflected the glowing blue dot. His quivering hand slowly moseyed up to the red button again and pushed it.

Power off.

The device collapsed in on itself, returning to its shut down mode.

There was another hiss of steam.

Then silence.

The boy did not move again for several seconds, the slow whispers of the cathedral were just returning when his shoulders began to quiver. A short almost inaudible series of sob-like giggles filtered between his clenched teeth, his eyes squinting shut hand his head slowly shaking from one side to the other. His hands shot to his chest where his sacred picture was kept. After a second, his gloved hands removed the photo and held it in front of his watering eyes.

"I…did it." He whispered.

The girl in the photograph stared back.

"I stole it. I took it right from under his nose. I have it now. I have it here. I'm so close now. We're so close."

He bit his lip, falling to his knees.

The girl in the picture stared.

"We're so close. We're so damn close."

The boy leaned forward until his head rested against the floor. It felt cold. It felt wet. But he wouldn't be feeling anything much longer. Not anymore.

Something orange stirred from underneath his pale, white skin, rippling like a fiery gem at the bottom of a restless stream.

It shimmered. Then took shape.

His teeth ground together, his words wrought…almost vicious with emotion.

"I…I…need…you. Raven. I…m-miss you so much…"

The image began to spread, creeping down his back, winding up each arm, closing around his face, its path silent and swift.

It shimmered into entirety, becoming recognizable against his body.

The Mark of Scath, glowing as brilliantly as a neon light on a rainy, cold day.

It glistened…

It burned

But the boy took no notice.

His eyes were shut.

The great doors slowly shut again, grinding against their rusted, black hinges.

Closing off the Cathedral of Seraphs.

"I'm…coming for you. I'm gonna find you…no matter what."

…Only now…there were two fallen Angels inside.

Author's Note: More to come