They entered the castle, the atmosphere heavy and filled with an ancient silence. As they passed through the great hall, Aisling turned to the Watcher, her mind swirling with questions.
"I feel silly asking this only now, but ... do you have a name?"
"You don't name a tool, I guess. We've never received one... but ... You can call me Samyaza."
"Samyaza, the first time I came here... only Nimue had the courage to follow me in here. Why?"
"Because she and you are perfectly attuned when it comes to flirting with the forbidden… More seriously, we forbid ourselves from crossing this threshold. It was a sign of respect from us. This home once belonged to Seraphel and Varakh. They were kind to us."
He lowered his eyes, almost ashamed.
"The Watchers were not always pitiable creatures, you know. We have done things... things we ourselves prefer to forget. But Seraphel and Varakh... they saw beyond our mistakes, beyond what we had become. That is why we stayed after their departure, and why we still watch over their home, in their memory."
Aisling walked alongside the old Watcher, her steps softly echoing on the black marble floor veined with gold. The castle, covered with a fine layer of dust accumulated over the years, radiated a timeless charm. If one were to sweep away the veil of time, it was easy to imagine that it had once been a true place of elegance and comfort, where every detail reflected refined taste. Aisling had already had the opportunity to visit the human capital on Nimrach, and for all the wonders she'd seen there, none equaled what was to be found here.
The walls were adorned with numerous sculptures and bas-reliefs. Angels were depicted smiling, their features imbued with softness and serenity, while the demons, far from their usual monstrous representations, stood majestic and imposing, their wings sculpted with admirable precision.
Heavy velvet tapestries, a deep mauve, hung on the walls, framing the sculptures and seemingly hiding secret passages. They absorbed part of the light, creating a muted, almost intimate atmosphere that contrasted with the high ceilings. Aisling could sense that every element had been carefully chosen to create a refuge, a space where one could escape from the outside worlds.
Flowers, now dried but once lush, adorned vases and alcoves throughout the castle. Paintings, also of rare beauty, graced the walls. They depicted scenes of almost supernatural tranquility: lush gardens suspended in the sky, mystical landscapes that evoked a dreamlike yet unattainable peace.
Through the vast stained-glass windows, daylight filtered in delicate pools of color, casting soft hues on the floor and walls. These glass mosaics depicted symbolic scenes: spirals of stars and wings beating in rhythm, uniting heaven and hell. The fragmented light wrapped the space in a mystical aura, giving the place a soothing, almost sacred atmosphere.
But what truly caught Aisling's attention were the purple crystals seemingly embedded in the walls, discreet yet omnipresent. Their soft glow shimmered faintly, and a barely audible song seemed to emanate from them, a calm and comforting melody. Their glistening reflections added an almost living dimension to the stones, as if the castle itself still breathed the memory of its former inhabitants. The young woman could feel this enveloping energy, and against all odds, she felt strangely at peace here.
Aisling and Samyaza finally entered a vast room that exuded a solemn and studious atmosphere. Large bookshelves lined the walls, filled with manuscripts, scrolls, and books with gold and silver bindings. A grand desk stood before majestic windows, resembling more of a long oval table, perfect for hosting several people in important discussions, meetings where great decisions were to be made.
An immense model in the center of the room immediately caught Aisling's attention. A meticulous reproduction of the city, the castle, and the surrounding areas. Every detail, from the smallest buildings to the majestic towers, seemed to have been hand-painted, with extraordinary care and precision. Tiny figurines populated the city, trees were modeled in soft green, and even the rivers that flowed around the city were represented with silver glints that captured the light from the stained glass.
"It's... beautiful," Aisling exclaimed as she approached the model.
She lightly touched one of the small towers, admiring the delicacy of the craftsmanship. Samyaza, floating nearby, observed the scene with a certain nostalgia.
"The work of Seraphel. She could spend hours here, especially in the moments when the war weighed on her. This model... calmed her. She loved to immerse herself in it, perfecting it. Every building you see, every street, every courtyard... she molded them with her hands. She wanted to use them for something other than battle."
"So, she was a warrior… I suppose she must have participated in the destruction of Earth..."
"No. Seraphel never set foot on Earth. She remained in one of the celestial realms, stationed at the borders of the Heavens. That's where she met Varakh."
"He was a warrior too?"
The old Watcher gave a slight smile.
"Not at all. Varakh was a scholar, a researcher. A brilliant mind. He was interested in the laws of the universe, the very structure of reality."
"I didn't know there were intellectuals among demons..." Aisling raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Samyaza let out a small, amused laugh.
"There is everything in the Infernal Realm, just like among the angels. Builders, artists, philosophers..."
"Then why do they wage war?" Aisling, still absorbed in the contemplation of the model, asked in a softer voice. "Why this eternal hatred between angels and demons?"
"That's a question that may seem simple, but it isn't," he said with a newfound gravity. "Angels and demons are fundamentally different in their essence. The angels have an extremely martial society, governed by order and discipline. Their existence revolves around the pursuit of harmony in service to the Light, to the Creator. They see themselves as the guardians of His Creation, much like children honor the legacy of their Father."
He paused before continuing, his tone more serious.
"Demons, on the other hand, have always embraced chaos. Not necessarily mindless, destructive chaos, though some excel in that, but a rejection of strict order. They are agents of change, of transformation. And for them, the war against angels became a way to challenge the Creator Himself."
"The prodigal son and the rebellious son…"
"Yes… a story as old as the world."
Aisling listened intently, her fingers still gliding over the miniature towers of the city.
"What allowed them to find common ground?"
Samyaza remained silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Then, in a low voice filled with gravity, he answered.
"They eventually realized they were more alike than they had imagined. They became friends, then allies. Beyond weapons and oaths, they saw that they shared a weariness of the endless war, a desire for something greater."
He paused, his eyes gleaming with an ancient melancholy.
"They managed to convince others to follow them, including some Watchers. Together, they sought to find a true Balance. Not the one imposed by the Council, which only served to maintain opposing forces in an eternal cycle of destruction. The Council almost encouraged them to slaughter each other, to prolong this absurd struggle indefinitely."
A shiver ran down Aisling's spine at these words. She hesitated, glancing between the city model and the old Watcher. Then, she resolved to ask the question that had been haunting her.
"And... what happened? Where are they now?"
The silence that followed was even heavier than the response. Samyaza lowered his head slightly, avoiding her gaze, his shadow floating silently in the vast room. The weight of his silence was enough to convey that Seraphel and Varakh were no longer of this world.
"Why don't you tell the Horsemen any of this?" she finally asked, breaking the silence with a voice more firm than she had anticipated, emotions still contradictory towards the four concerned. "You no longer serve the Council, and neither do they. So why keep this place a secret? If they mean what they say, there might be something here that could help them, and thus help humanity."
Samyaza looked at her then, his spectral gaze filled with infinite sadness.
"Do you trust them?" he asked softly, the question hanging in the air like a riddle.
Aisling opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn't find the words. For a moment, she stood still, searching for an answer.
"I… don't have a choice, I guess?" She admitted in a low voice. "Without them, humanity would have been extinct long ago… right?"
The Watcher slowly shook his head, his expression filled with compassion and sorrow.
"You cannot change the nature of beings. The essence of the Horsemen is violence. That's who they are."
"I don't understand."
Samyaza slowly approached one of the imposing bookshelves, his clawed fingers brushing the aged leather bindings before stopping on a particularly ancient volume. He pulled the book, its cover creaking slightly under the pressure, and placed it in front of Aisling with surprising delicacy. The specter opened the book to a page worn by time, revealing a detailed engraving depicting an army of imposing figures, massive, their muscles bulging, their bodies built for war. Some bore wings like angels, others had horns, tails, or claws, with demonic traits blending into a humanoid appearance. Aisling leaned over the page, fascinated by the image.
"Who are they?" she asked, her eyes scanning every detail.
The Watcher remained silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice turning grave, almost solemn.
"The Nephilim, creatures whose existence is an anomaly in the grand order of things, an affront to the very concept of Balance. A story your dear Protector must not have been proud enough to share with you."
Aisling blinked, vaguely recognizing the term from the books she had learned to decipher over the years, but her face clearly showed her confusion. The old specter looked at her and, seeing her bewilderment, continued.
"It all began with Lilith, a demoness, ancient—very ancient. Known for her manipulation, cunning, and seductions. Queen of demons, mother of monsters, lover and traitor, temptress and betrayer. The most exquisite lie of creation. She was responsible for many cosmic disasters, always seeking to manipulate primordial forces to her advantage. But her greatest act, and perhaps the most destructive, was the creation of the Nephilim."
"How?" Aisling frowned, staring at the faces of the warriors engraved on the page.
"At one time, Lilith became the companion of a renowned Maker, a being named Gulbannan. A master in the art of creating life itself. From him, she learned many forbidden secrets concerning the crafting of living beings. Gulbannan eventually realized what Lilith intended to do with this knowledge. He understood she planned to twist these teachings toward a much darker and dangerous goal. He tried to expose her, to reveal her intentions to his peers. But he never could. His apprentice, Belisatra, betrayed him."
Aisling nodded, absorbing the story attentively.
"She killed him?"
"Yes. Hoping to witness Lilith's creations, she allowed the demoness to complete her work."
He turned a few pages, revealing another portrait, this time of a large, menacing warrior, much more imposing than the others. His gaze was that of a conqueror, burning with inner rage.
"Lilith mixed the dust of both angels and demons, and breathed life into it. Thus, she created Absalom, the first of the Nephilim. He became their leader, and from him, all the others came forth."
"The others… like… the Four Horsemen?"
"Yes. Death, War, Fury, and Strife are also Nephilim. But after the Nephilim embarked on a destructive crusade across the worlds, threatening the very Balance, the Charred Council intervened. To preserve the Balance, they gave the Four a final mission. They tasked them with eliminating their own race, their own brothers and sisters. And thus, the Council took control of the Horsemen."
"They exterminated their own kind?" Aisling stood stunned.
"Yes. As for Lilith... she never forgave that betrayal. She was punished by the Council. They stripped much of her knowledge to prevent her from repeating her actions. And so, almost all the Nephilim were wiped out. Only the Four remain..."
Aisling stared at the old Watcher, slowly coming to understand the mutual distrust between him and the Horsemen. The old specter nodded slowly, sensing her thoughts.
"We do not trust them. Not because they are evil, but because they will never change. They cannot."
"Yet, you yourselves asked the Horsemen to believe that you had changed, that you no longer served the Council. How can you expect them to trust you if you are not willing to give them the same chance? What's more, even though I'm furious about the method, they helped us. You can't take that away from them."
Samyaza shook his head sadly, a faint, melancholic smile forming on his spectral face.
"We renounced serving the Council, yes. But we cannot change our nature. The sad truth is, we are no better than they are."
Aisling watched him, a glimmer of confusion in her eyes, and the Watcher continued, his voice weighted with solemnity.
"My people and I were created for one purpose: to serve. Just as the Nephilim were shaped to serve Lilith's dark designs, we were shaped to obey. We have no world of our own, no homeland, nothing. We never learned to create. Our hands only know how to carry out the orders of another. The Council created us as a race of slaves, doing the dirty work, the shadow behind the power."
Aisling felt a pang of compassion as she listened to his words. Samyaza suddenly seemed so vulnerable in his confession. He continued, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the past.
"We do not know how to become something else. In truth, we simply chose another master to serve. First Seraphel and Varakh, for giving us a chance to break our chains, to free ourselves from our eternal servitude, and now... you. Humanity."
Aisling blinked, surprised.
"Us? But... why?"
The Watcher looked at Aisling with an intensity that sent a shiver through her. His spectral face, worn by millennia of service, seemed laden with a wisdom and weight she could not fully comprehend. His voice, ethereal and ancient, grew softer but no less powerful.
"You embody the Balance that drives the universe, that fragile dance between creation and destruction, order and chaos. You are the only species capable of standing at the crossroads of these forces, able to choose your own destiny."
Aisling furrowed her brow, trying to grasp what he meant. She nodded gently but responded, still somewhat lost.
"It means we can just as easily commit the worst as we can the best. That we are unpredictable."
"That's true," the Watcher gave a sad smile, his eyes drifting for a moment into a distant memory. "You have the potential to do evil, to commit terrible acts, just as you have the potential to achieve wonders. But it is precisely that which makes you so unique in all of Creation."
He moved closer, his spectral figure floating slowly, almost as if he were dancing in the air.
"Of all the beings that inhabit the universe, you are the only ones capable of evolution. Angel, demon, Nephilim, Watcher, Maker... we are all locked into the roles the Universe has assigned to us. We cannot escape our nature. But you humans, you were created with the ability to evolve, to reinvent yourselves."
Samyaza's voice rose again, his tone becoming almost solemn.
"It is this power, this freedom to become whatever you choose to be, that makes you both feared and envied by the rest of Creation. Angels are bound to their purity, demons to their chaos, Nephilim to their thirst for battle, and we Watchers to our servitude. But you, you can transcend all of that. You can create or destroy, build or ruin. You can choose to follow one of these paths, or to forge a new one—one no one has ever conceived."
He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and deep sadness.
"It is this potential, Aisling, this freedom of choice that makes me believe in you and your species. You are the only race capable of restoring a true Balance—not the one imposed by the Council or by cosmic forces, but a real Balance."
The young woman took a moment to absorb his words. She ran a hand through her hair, her gaze drifting to the stained glass windows, where the light from the purple crystals cast dancing reflections on the floor.
"We aren't enough...enough… enough everything! We aren't prepared for this! We can't even return to Nimrach... or to Earth!"
"Perhaps… perhaps there is a way to reclaim Earth."
…
"Say what now?"