The following day, Aisling emerged into the grand main hall of the museum, her eyes still heavy with fatigue. She rubbed them gently, trying to banish the lingering remnants of a restless sleep, but it was no use—she remained deeply unsettled. The sky visible through the towering glass dome reflected her mood: a dense black draped above, pierced only by the unsettling glow of an orange sun, its rays colliding with thick plumes of smoke. At least it was no longer raining. Still, the light was strange, almost unreal, casting the stone walls and displayed artworks in somber, fiery hues.
She wandered slowly, her gaze caught by the paintings and sculptures that she rediscovered in this gloomy illumination. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, but she wanted to know if there was any news. She found War in the same room where he had spoken with Uriel the day before. He had removed the upper piece of his massive armor, revealing a broad frame and muscles marked with ancient scars. His white hair fell loosely over his shoulders, faintly glowing in the dim light. The color of his hair bore an odd resemblance to that of the angels, though Uriel's was closer to pure silver.
His enormous gauntlet, the one he always wore on his left hand, lay on the ground as he inspected its mechanisms like a blacksmith examining their craft. It was only then that Aisling noticed his left arm ended abruptly at a scarred stump, where the flesh had been severed cleanly. The sight at least managed to temper her mood for a moment.
"War... your arm..."
He turned his head toward her, his brow furrowed in confusion, before realizing what had shocked her. Calmly, he slid his stump into the gauntlet, and the magical mechanism activated. The steel fingers opened and closed like those of a living hand, almost organic despite being clearly animated by some sort of enchantment.
"Does it... hurt? I have herbs that might—"
"No. It's been like this for a very long time. Don't concern yourself with it."
His tone should have been enough to deter her. There was a stark difference between the care he had shown during the attack and the coldness with which he treated her now. Was he so furious about the burden she seemed to represent in his eyes? And yet, she couldn't look away from the gauntlet, mesmerized by the quiet resilience with which he bore this burden.
"What happened?"
War rose to his full height, the imposing shadow he cast making her take a few steps back.
"We have work to do."
He picked up the young woman's dagger, which he had placed beside him, and held it out to her. Aisling hesitated, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Show me what you can do," he ordered.
"What?"
"I told you I'd train you, didn't I? Uriel has gone scouting to learn more about the Element of Fire. In the meantime, you're going to learn how to defend yourself. Stand in front of me. No, not like that. Spread your feet... there. Step back a little."
What followed was an exhausting hour. War proved to be an implacable instructor, demanding, with an almost stoic discipline. He spoke little, correcting only when absolutely necessary, and didn't linger on unnecessary details. He dismissed anything related to stealth or trickery, favoring open, direct confrontations. Every movement he taught her seemed designed to break an enemy, not to evade one.
Aisling, however, struggled to keep up. While the style of training War imposed might have suited the warriors of Nimrach, she was clearly no match for it. Her muscles burned, her hands trembled around the dagger, and her breathing grew increasingly labored. The frustration that had been gnawing at her since the day before resurfaced, bringing with it her foul mood.
Several times, she had the strange sensation of déjà vu again, a presentiment of an attack from this or that direction, which systematically ended up happening. Each time, she lost her nerve. Finally, after a particularly demanding maneuver that left War wrenching the dagger painfully from her hand, she collapsed to her knees, folded over her thighs, desperately trying to catch her breath.
"I... I can't... I can't fight like this!" she panted, exhausted and frustrated.
"Walk," War said, grabbing her by the shoulders and hauling her to her feet without any gentleness. "You'll catch your breath faster."
"Ugh... I feel like throwing up," she retorted with a grimace.
"That means your body's working. Keep walking. You're weak compared to your two friends. Didn't your ancestors train with Fury to become warriors?"
"I'm… a… healer!" she spat furiously between ragged breaths. "Not a fighter... And… ugh..."
She doubled over, one hand clutching her abdomen, her breathing ragged. The seed she carried seemed to burn beneath her skin, each pulse sending waves of pain radiating through her body. War's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"All the more reason to know how to defend yourself."
"Are you trying to kill her?"
They looked up to see Uriel, who was shedding a worn and dirty travel cloak. She crossed her arms, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow.
"At this rate, all you'll gain is having to carry her to the next Element."
War growled, clearly unwilling to be contradicted, but the angel's presence seemed to soften his temperament.
"If you have suggestions..."
"I do," she replied in a neutral but firm tone. "I've gathered information on what you're looking for. I've set up a map for you. Go study it while I take care of her."
Aisling held back a groan of pain as she saw Uriel approach with determination. War, meanwhile, methodically put his armor pieces back on, then left the room in silence, his heavy footsteps echoing.
Left alone with Uriel, Aisling realized just how imposing the angel was. Tall, slender, every muscle under her worn armor seemed perfectly sculpted by centuries of battle. Everything about her stance and movements betrayed a born warrior. Yet, despite her confident appearance, Uriel seemed slightly uncomfortable, as if she wasn't sure how to interact with the young human.
She finally scrutinized Aisling with a disquieting intensity, as if she was assessing not only the young human's ability to survive, but also the threat she might potentially pose. Her gaze lingered for a long moment on the dark seed and its black roots visible under the pale skin of Aisling's chest. Eventually, she lifted her eyes, her face taking on a severe and cutting expression.
"Before we even think about arming you, we'll strengthen your body. You need muscles. Are you familiar with hand-to-hand combat?"
"It's... the only kind I know, let's say," Aisling shrugged, feeling uneasy under the weight of that scrutinizing gaze.
"Good. Try to hit me."
The young human blinked, confused.
"Pardon?"
"Hit me," Uriel repeated, unflinching. "I need to assess your level."
Aisling sighed, resigned. She got into position, remembering the lessons she had received on Nimrach. Trying to convince herself, she attempted to imagine Fenja in front of her, an opponent she knew. But the image quickly faded, replaced by Uriel's imposing stature and icy confidence. Taking a deep breath, she feigned a punch to the angel's face, before aiming for her stomach.
The next moment, Aisling found herself on her knees, her thigh burning where Uriel had struck. The angel had retaliated with a perfectly calculated kick, hitting a point so precise that a flash of pain made her see stars. Still dazed, Aisling looked up to see Uriel, her fist raised, ready to deliver the final blow.
"Hmmm... you are indeed weak," she concluded with a clinical coldness.
"Yeah... yeah... I think I got that part, thanks," mumbled Aisling as she pushed herself up, her face red with shame and pain.
Uriel stepped back slightly, lowering her fist. Perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of impatience, she altered her approach. The next hour was a series of weight training exercises, basic movements, and relentless corrections. Every move Aisling tried seemed laborious, awkward, as though her own body was slipping away from her. Uriel, stoic, made her repeat the same gestures over and over, her commands sharp and merciless, leaving little room for error.
"No. Your footing is wrong. Again. Keep your center of gravity. If you fall, you're dead."
Fatigue set in for Aisling at an alarming rate. The muscles in her legs trembled, her breath became erratic, and every step seemed more difficult than the last. Yet, she persisted, biting her lip to suppress her frustration. When Uriel finally interrupted the exercise, passing out seemed like an acceptable option.
"I'll get some water. Keep walking and breathe," Uriel said without adding another word.
Aisling let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping in relief.
"You're doing great," murmured Nimue from the ring.
"You're kidding, right?" Aisling grimaced, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "If they wanted to humiliate me, they couldn't do it any better! I feel... useless."
"Don't be so hard on yourself... or on them. They are soldiers. They've known nothing else."
"I know... but a word of encouragement wouldn't hurt, because right now... I really feel like shit."
Nimue fell silent, unable to refute the reality. Uriel returned shortly after with water, handing it to Aisling without ceremony.
"We'll have to do this every day. Several times a day, ideally," she declared in a tone that brooked no argument.
Aisling, too exhausted to reply, simply nodded. Her anger and humiliation had given way to a deep weariness. Uriel, however, had not faltered. Her posture, her gaze, her voice... everything about her exuded the authority of a warrior accustomed to commanding legions. Yet, behind her impassive mask, an almost imperceptible glimmer danced in the angel's eyes.
"The simple fact that you're still alive while carrying that seed is truly impressive. Your strength of mind deserves respect, human."
Aisling froze in surprise, almost choking on her water. It was probably the first time she had ever heard anything resembling a compliment from her.
"Oh... Thanks... and thanks for helping us," Aisling tried to break the strange atmosphere with a sincere smile. "Any help is definitely appreciated."
Uriel looked away, staring at some random spot on the wall.
"It's nothing," she replied almost curtly, before reconsidering. "You're just... more fragile than the soldiers I was used to training."
"Yeah, I think I have that effect on everyone!" Aisling finally burst into a tense laugh, her nerves no longer holding up.
But Uriel didn't react, merely staring at her with a slight squint, as if trying to understand a foreign language.
"It was a joke..." Aisling clarified with a hint of embarrassment.
"Oh... yes, of course," the angel blinked. "I'm not... familiar with interactions with... someone of your kind."
"I guess it must be strange to meet a human. I understand you've been on Earth for a long time."
"Since the beginning. For what it's worth, human, I... was horrified by the destruction your people endured. And... it's a comfort to learn that there are still survivors."
The guilt in her voice was evident, and Aisling understood that it weighed heavily on her. Not wanting to linger on such a painful subject, she changed the focus.
"This is the first time in my life I've seen so many pieces of art gathered in one place," she said, gesturing to the paintings and sculptures around them. "I didn't know humans had created so many things."
Uriel suddenly seemed to come alive. Her eyes sparkled with a rare, vibrant gleam.
"And this is nothing!" she exclaimed. "I've secured what I could find, but it's so little compared to what once existed!"
"You preserved all this?"
"I stumbled upon this place by accident. I... I feel at home here. Humans had an incredible talent for the arts. Come, I'll show you something."
The angel took flight, gliding softly across the room. Aisling followed her into another chamber, wiping the sweat dripping from her face. There, an impressive collection of marble statues, antique vases, and fragments of ancient ruins filled the space. Aisling ran her hand over a grimy panel to reveal an inscription: Ancient Greece.
Ren's stories came to her mind, and she couldn't help but smile at the remnants of a distant past. Uriel, on the other hand, stood at the center of the room, her gaze caressing each piece of art with a palpable tenderness. The young human sensed a mix of longing and melancholy in the angel's eyes. Seeing this fierce warrior moved by art was both touching and incongruous.
"Do you have a favorite piece?" Aisling asked softly, fascinated by how Uriel seemed to cherish these treasures.
The angel paused for a moment, looking around as if she were choosing between precious memories. For the first time, the hint of a smile brushed her lips, betraying a rare vulnerability. The angel set her glowing, admiring gaze on a massive pottery piece miraculously intact.
"In this room, it would be that one... but take me to another, and I'll find more..."
Aisling approached the pottery, captivated. She observed the carefully etched design: a woman sitting, leaning forward, seeming to open a box, her profile frozen in timeless grace. Uriel moved slightly closer, her wings folding in an almost protective gesture around the pottery.
"What's amazing about you is that you tell stories through your art," she said, her tone filled with sincere admiration.
"Don't angels have artists?" Aisling asked, curious.
"It's... different," Uriel hesitated. "Our art is glorious, majestic. Our cities rise in towering spires, gleaming white, under a sky of gold and azure. Everything is light, everything is symmetry... but… it's not the same. What you create is... intimate."
She paused, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. Aisling sensed that the memory of her homeland weighed heavily on her heart. To break the tension, she leaned toward the pottery the angel had pointed out.
"It's an ancient legend from my people. Pandora..."
"You know it?"
"I have to. My father is the Keeper of Memories, and I'll be the next. It's our mission to remember past stories and pass them on to our people. In the legend, Pandora was the first woman, created by the old gods. Zeus, their king, wanted to punish mankind for stealing the sacred fire. So he asked Hephaestus, the god of the forge, to shape her."
She turned to Uriel, continuing with a newfound confidence as she saw the genuine interest in the angel's eyes.
"Each god gave her a gift. Aphrodite gave her beauty, Athena wisdom, Hermes persuasion... But they also gave her a box. A sealed box they forbade her from opening. However, Pandora was curious, it was her greatest flaw... One day, she could no longer resist. She lifted the lid and..."
She paused, her finger absentmindedly tracing the contours of the pottery.
"And what?" Uriel insisted, clearly captivated.
"All the evils of the world escaped from it. Pain, illness, war, death... They flew out to invade the Earth. Horrified, Pandora closed the box. But it was too late."
A silence fell between them, the atmosphere heavy with the intensity of the story. Uriel seemed to be thinking deeply, her features serious.
"So, she condemned humanity?"
"Not completely," Aisling shook her head, a light smile on her lips. "She closed the box just in time for one last thing to remain inside."
"What was it?"
"Hope," the young human answered softly. "Even in the midst of the worst darkness, there was something left to guide humanity."
Uriel remained still, her gaze fixed on the pottery, filled with a sincere curiosity mixed with a touch of sadness. Aisling guessed that it must be rare to see such emotions pass across her face.
"Your people have lost so much... Do you still hope?"
"Of course!"
Uriel narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to understand beyond the simple affirmation.
"But... how?"
"Because it's all we have left. We've never known what our place in the universe was. When we finally discovered we weren't alone, our chances of understanding disappeared with our homeworld and a thousand-year war we knew nothing about. We've been hunted, killed, and even our survival is owed to outside forces. Even now. So yes, we cling to hope."
Uriel furrowed her brows slightly, attentive.
"That's often what art, stories... are for," explained Aisling. "To remind us to keep going, even when everything seems lost."
"But what if there's nothing at the end of the road?" The angel replied in a darker, almost broken voice. "What if all of this is, in fact, in vain?"
Aisling turned her face toward her, her smile widening in a way that was almost serene, filled with defiance.
"One way to find out, right?"
For the first time, Aisling felt a strange calm in the presence of the angel. Uriel, despite her imposing aura and initial coldness, now appeared in a different light. A cascade of burning questions was on Aisling's lips, but she didn't have time to ask a single one.
"If you're done..." War's deep voice echoed from the entrance of the section, cutting the moment short.
Uriel immediately pivoted, her face returning to the strict expression that seemed to be her natural mask.
"Did you find what you were looking for, Rider?"
"And more. Get ready."
Aisling made sure her meager belongings were securely packed, casting a glance at the ruins around her. These imposing remnants testified to the past grandeur of humanity. How had her kind managed to build such cities? The thought both fascinated and haunted her. The events that had transformed these vibrant metropolises into a field of silent ruins were beyond her comprehension. She felt not only sadness at this sight, but a deep and burning anger.
She had ignored this rage until now, but it was returning, relentless. Worse still, the temptation to wish for the utter annihilation of those responsible had been gnawing at her since the conversation she had overheard the day before. The heavy footsteps of War echoed behind her, pulling her from her dark thoughts.
"Let's go," the Horseman grunted.
"Don't we call Ruin?" she asked in surprise, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
"No. We'll walk part of the way. You need to..."
"Build muscle. I know..." She couldn't hide the acidity in her voice. "Unbelievable that this has become the top priority lately."
A part of her reptilian brain momentarily reminded her of who she was talking to. And yet, it seemed she had gone beyond the point of fearing him. Her tone, sharper than she'd intended, didn't provoke any reaction from the Horseman. He completely ignored the jab, as though it wasn't even worth responding to, or at least that's how she interpreted it.
A little further ahead, Uriel was waiting, perched on a ruined wall, watching the horizon with the stillness of a statue.
"Are you coming with us?" Aisling asked as she approached.
"I'll lead you to the Fire Element's path... but I won't go beyond that." She gracefully descended from her perch. "And I will continue your training during the journey."
"I didn't ask for your help with that, Uriel," War growled, furrowing his brows, his already dark mood growing darker still.
"No, but if we want her to stay alive long enough to accomplish her mission, it's better that I take care of it," the angel retorted with a sharp calmness.
Their gazes locked like crossed blades, a palpable tension building between them.
"Wow..." Aisling stepped between them, raising her hands as if to prevent an imminent quarrel. "Are you two always this intense, or is it just me getting special treatment?"
The two warriors turned to look at her in perfect synchronization, eyeing her as if she'd just spoken in a foreign language.
"It's a joke... again..."
War ignored her comment and turned on his heel, striding heavily toward the outskirts of the ruined city.
"We don't have time for this. Let's go."
Without another word, Uriel took flight, her wings unfurling and briefly lighting up the area with a golden glow before disappearing into the overcast sky. Aisling stood still for a moment, watching them each walk away.
"This is going to be a long journey..."