Angel had never used With as her own wings before. But this would be her first and only time.
He took hold of her back, her hair flying wildly in the night air. Her eyes scanned the darkness.
Their first stop was the last place the phantom thief had been. The art studio that now stood in ruins.
Angel landed with a light tap of her toe. With returned to her shoulder, and she pet him idly. She looked around as With hissed at their surroundings. It reeked of old magic and the work of devils. The paintings against the wall were all knocked over and in strange disarrays, the sculptures in the corner chipped and crumbled. Across the way, leaning against the farthest wall, was a gargantuan black mirror.
A cold shadow passed against her neck, and she turned around in surprise. "Emil?"
There was nothing there. A shiver ran down her spine as With hissed madly. "Shh, calm down, With…. It's just… the wind. Yeah, the wind…" She whispered soothingly.
She turned around to proceed further into the room. She blinked, catching the moon's light on the wooden floor. It was littered with black feathers… and white.
"White feathers…?" She knelt down, picking one up. She looked up quickly at an abrupt flapping sound. "Who's there?!"
"Kyuu!" With motioned with his head.
There was a figure standing in front of the huge cracked mirror. She gasped, and in a flash she was on her feet. Her eyes were wide in disbelief.
"Emil…?" She breathed, stepping closer and closer, the feathers parting around her feet.
"…Who… are you?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, her indigo blue eyes hazed over with dry tears. She would know his voice anywhere. But this man before her… his hair was as dark as the shadow magic that surrounded him, his crimson violet eyes were void of any emotions, and behind him, great black wings sprouted from his back.
…And when he asked that question in the voice she had fallen in love with, something within her shattered.
There was a little flutter. His wings spread, feathers raining from above as he did so, and one of the beautiful appendages came around and hugged his arm.
This was not Emil. This was… Dark.
His expression changed, like his voice. It was curious, and almost… heartbroken. There was something in his eyes that told her that he did recognize her… if only a little.
He was lonely. He had no memories to make him smile.
She dared to step closer. Hesitantly her hand reached out. His moved as well, slow and unsure. Angel then realized… that he was not actually standing in front of her. This man was standing on the other side of the mirror.
Her eyes widened again before her expression softened and carefully, she let her hand rest on the rough but smooth surface of the mirror. It was cold, and it gave her a feeling of fright and utter brokenness, but he put his hand against hers, and in an instant she was filled with warmth instead. She felt like she was with Emil again… as if he were giving her the lifetime of memories she had made with him. She felt close to this mysterious reflection of the past and the future, yet so far away, as they were separated by an inky black wall of clear glass.
"Who are you?" He asked again, a question so simple yet so devastating. His voice was deep and mature, but there was a certain tone of innocence and naivety in his mannerisms.
"I… I am Angel." She answered softly, though it pained her to have to say those three simple words to the love of her life.
"Who am I?" He asked, as if she were his mother and savior, here to give him his memory and his life back.
This… it was not Emil anymore, she told herself once more.
"You… are… Dark." She responded hesitantly, overflowing with melancholy.
"Dark…" He echoed, like a child learning his first words.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to be able to touch him and kiss him and hold him once more… but she knew that it was impossible. This wasn't her husband… it wasn't Emil.
She didn't want to believe it. She hadn't had enough time with her beloved husband. She just wanted one last chance to love him.
But suddenly she had lost all hope.
"…What are those called?"
"…Tears." Angel sniffled a little. Her eyes were stinging. She hadn't realized that she had started crying, but she knew what he was asking as she stared into his unwavering gaze.
"Angel's… Tears?" He inquired, staring at her with eyes that reflected her sadness. These were the eyes she had fallen into, the eyes that had trapped her and caged her in the love of its owner.
"…Yes. My tears." Angel wiped her eyes with the back of her other hand.
She didn't say anything else, standing still and quiet for the rest of the night. He stayed silent as well, staring at her as if trying to identify her in his nonexistent memories.
That was, until With hissed angrily at something behind her, jumping off her shoulder.
The winged man's eyes widened, and for the first time, the blue-haired woman saw fear in his eyes. No, it was not the kind of fear that was like the one that would appear when she saw a fire. It was a different kind of fear… almost like the fear of losing someone close to his heart. Angel stiffened, turning around when she felt the cold presence behind her again.
She was stopped when she felt a familiar grip on her hand. She froze.
The man who she now faced had golden hair that shone white in the moonlight, and yellow eyes that seemed as evil as a black cat's. His smile was as cold as a winter wind and frighteningly sadistic. Behind him, pure white wings glowed with an evil light.
White feathers…!
He gave a low chuckle, his hand bearing a fiery orb of light. She couldn't move. With tackled him, but he was simply slapped aside, the man unfazed.
The man in the mirror felt a familiar magic in the air. He had felt this magic when he was "born". The homicidal blonde before him only wished to make him miserable, didn't he?
Without thinking and with only the wish to save this woman… he shouted her name. In the split moment she glanced back and their gazes met, he took a tight hold on her hand and pulled her into his mirror.
Everything fell apart in that one moment.
Her scream filled the empty air, but her mouth had only moved to form one phrase that only the phantom thief could see.
"I love you."
The moment her body crossed into the magical world beyond the reflection, she had vanished, only a warm light in the purple-haired man's arms. A bright star appeared in his eternal night.
The room glowed with chaotic life.
And suddenly, it was clear to him as his eyes shed her tears and he held "nothing" close to him. He would never get a chance to stroke her navy blue hair, or touch her luscious pink lips, or feel her warmth against him. Never again, for the pain in his blackened heart told him the truth that she had known about him all along, deep in her broken soul.
Angel was dead.
No one noticed the glowing, blank white canvas among the piles of ghost Hikari arts.