"We're here now. Ask away."

Isaac let his weight sink into the throne. His back would most likely hurt from his slumped posture when he stood back up. But that didn't matter to him. He could care less. He slumped back further into the throne, further exasperating his soured mood. He wasn't looking forward to the questions.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips after he spoke. He didn't mean for it to slip through. Tired. He was just tired. He wanted to take a nap, even if for a short while. But that would have been unfair, rather typical of him. He'd be stalling. He had been stalling for eons now.

Meshach had plopped himself down onto the arm of the throne. He looked up at Isaac. He could see that he was tired. And yet, he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

He felt bad. He didn't want to be such a burden to any more people. But the ever-looming thought that there wouldn't be an opportunity like this again overrode his empathy. And he was given a promise. To that end, he would be fulfilling that promise, thereby not being a burden. Win-win.

"...why did you leave?"

That was the most obvious question. It felt simple enough. Nothing too outlandish. And yet, simplicity and difficulty did not always equate and coincide with one another.

"I—I…"

Isaac felt himself choking on the tiniest words. He felt as though someone had tied his tongue with his vocal cords. He had an answer but couldn't bring himself to say it. Why was it so hard? It wasn't a complicated answer. He just felt that it simply wasn't good enough. To him, it was childish and foolish. But ultimately, honest.

"I was tired, Meshach. I just wanted to get away from it all…"

He spoke in a hushed whisper. It would have gone unheard had it not been for Meshach being so close. Isaac averted his eyes when he uttered the words aloud, like a child who confessed their misdeeds to a tempered parent.

"You saw how they all looked at me after… that."

Meshach didn't say a word. He frankly didn't know how to respond. That accident—the Great Scorching. Everything changed after that. Everything fell apart. Rifts were made, bonds were broken, and love turned to loathe. It wasn't any wonder he fled.

At times, Meshach wished he could too. But he couldn't. How could he bring himself to forget that which gave him the gift of life?

"I figured, that it wouldn't matter. That they wouldn't care that I was gone."

Isaac's voice became choked as he tried his best to explain himself. But he couldn't help but let these raw feelings, the emotions he's kept bottled up for so long, slowly seep out.

"They were better off without me…"

Meshach wasn't sure what to do. Should he place his hand on Isaac to comfort him, or did he even want to be touched? Should he ask another question to try and lighten the mood, or would that be tactless?

"Heh. But look where that's gotten me," he pitifully chuckled. "I'm back sitting here, and I've gone and dragged Bell into all this."

Meshach perked up at that name. His flames became sapped with color as he thought of the boy. How could he be so heedless and forgetful?! The flames atop his head flickered in panic. Isaac let out a rather amused sigh.

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's safe, as far as I know."

"Huuu—how…?"

That was all Meshach could utter as he tried to wrap his brain around Isaac's words. They simply made no sense.

Isaac pursed his lips as he thought of what to say. Admittedly, the whole ordeal was quite bemusing, even for him. He knew the fundamentals. Perhaps he would try to explain it from there.

"He's… me. In a sense. Erm. Does that make sense?"

Meshach felt himself grow dizzy as he felt his brain completely fry itself. Vertigo set in, and he felt his legs grow wobbly as he struggled to retain his balance. Feeling himself etching closer to completely toppling over, he bent down and planted his hand onto the throne's arm for balance. Awkwardly, he simmered himself down as gently as possible.

Isaac let out a slight giggle.

"It's pretty confusing, I know. Even I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. But he's me, or rather, a part of me."

That made slightly more sense…? Meshach decided to hold his tongue and let Isaac finish. He'd probably confuse himself further if he started sporadically spouting out questions.

"He's who I was when I was first given life. He's the innocent part of me." A warm smile spread itself on his face. "Hah. I think the one that came before him had a bit of Abel rub off on him." The warm, sweet smile quickly became bitter at the mention of that name. Quickly, he shrugged it off.

Meshach tilted his head back and forth as if sloshing his brain around would help make sense of it all. He's him and he's him. That makes complete and total sense. Totally.

"So… uh. Sorry, but could you clear things up a bit more? What exactly is he to you?"

"...my atonement."

A somber silence hung over the two as they dwelled on the words. Meshach stared blankly. Isaac let out yet another sigh. It was beginning to become a bit of a bad habit.

"He is me, in the flesh of a mortal," he began. "He is not bound by superficial ties of duty and obligation. He is as free as any other like him."

Isaac paused, letting his mind sort out his thoughts.

"He's free to live out his life without a care, to love whoever he wishes to, and to chase whatever dreams may lie in his heart."

Meshach raised his hand.

"Erm, sorry, but what does this have to do with him being your 'atonement'?"

"'To those under the law, I became like one under the law, so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law, so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some'."

Meshach's eyes widened in awe and realization. That was why Bell was his atonement.

"He's a hero by heart," Isaac continued. "He's always been a hero. In every single life that he's lived and especially the life he lives now, he's wanted nothing more than to save others."

Isaac smiled.

"And he will. Far better than I or any other Mythic could. Because he's human. He's like them. And that alone gives him the strength to do more than what I could ever hope to."

A single, soft tear fell from Isaac at the mere thought of all that Bell had done and what he could do.

"Besides…I have done enough."

Before Meshach could respond, a chill ran down his spine. He felt a dour, sickening presence manifest itself behind him. He spun around and choked out a gasp. It was a statue—a statue of an angel.

Its hands were clasped together in a gesture of prayer in front of it. Its wings were neatly folded and tucked behind its back. A dark shadow loomed over its eyes, but they could feel its cold gaze upon them.

Isaac straightened himself as he stared back. The throne room became chilling to the bone as the scent of murder soon permeated it. The air hung trepidatiously, waiting for any movement or motion. After a brief while, the angel spoke in a hushed, harsh whisper.

"Why have you returned here?"

"Because it is my throne."

"No. You forsook this place long ago. It is no longer yours. Leave. Or you shall be punished."

Isaac's facial muscles flinched slightly at its words.

"Is that why you are here then? To threaten me out of my home, my Eden?"

The angel gave no reaction.

"I make no threats against you."

Suddenly, Isaac felt a strange sensation. An odd fire pulsated and coursed through his nerves to his brain. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was seemingly familiar yet alien all the same. Feeling his eyes beginning to sting as he had failed to realize they had only grown wider and wider, he blinked. He looked back to the angel, only to see it holding an arm. At first, it didn't register. He nearly chalked it up to a hallucination. Then, it clicked. He looked down and saw his right arm missing.

"I shall not be as merciful to you as I was the boy. Traitor."

Before he could even let out a blood-curdling scream of pain, a set of hands was placed around his throat. The sudden movement of the angel sent out a powerful gust of wind that knocked Meshach off the throne's arm, sending him tumbling onto the ground. Adrenaline kicked in as Isaac gritted his teeth and placed a hand on his attacker, digging his fingertips into the marble. His pupils became dilated as he choked out his magic.

"In—In—INFERNUM!"

In an instant, the angel burst out in a flurry of hellfire. Feeling it loosen its grip on his throat, Isaac kicked it back. A sense of relief washed over him as he held his throat, feeling air flowing into his body once again.

Panting heavily, he looked back to see two more angels appear in the throne room alongside their scorched kin. Fresh, black liquid was oozing out of their eyes as they pointed at him.

"TraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitor—"

Bell was to be his atonement, and this was his punishment.