Fallen

By Lady Tempest

            Under crimson wings I fall. My mind and my soul are focused, ever in tune to the melody that made me. Her word is my everything: my will, my purpose, my life. Her word is justice. She is Justice. And I am her sword. Blood-red and brilliant. A brutal cold beauty to those who stir her hand, and so seal their terrible fate; a fate more forgiving than the deeds that dared her word. I am a silent sword, known only at the last. And the last is always the same.

 He towered over the man quivering on his knees. Beautiful, imposing, silent. His sword, as red as the blood it hungered for, glinted in the flickering candlelight. He held it icy still, edge poised at the man's throat.    

            "Please, sir. Please...," the man choked out in sickening sobs, his eyes wild and dark, " please don't kill me! I don't wanna die! "

            Soulless eyes screaming into mine, cry shamelessly for mercy.

            " Is that not what fell upon your ears as you slit their throats? Is that not what they screamed as their blood warmed your hands? " he breathed, his voice as cold as his blade.

            Regret?

"Please...  I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" the man begged in a trembling chant.

No. " And did they want to die?"

For forgiveness?

" I don't wanna die!"

No... Never those. But I am merciful. Terrible and swift.

He raised his sword in a skyward arc. Soul and sword hummed the melody of his master.

            Passage to the black agony of their eternity is quick. My blade strikes true. 

A blur of scarlet, and the sword thrust into the man's chest, blade and blood bursting a crimson geyser from his back. A shriek blasted the night air, then gurgled quickly to cold silence.

            And I never regret.

He drew his sword from its fleshy sheath, hot blood vanishing from the blade, as if devoured. The man thudded lifelessly to the floor; eyes eternally open to blackness.

            I never question.

             With a snap of his fingers, night's shadow consumed the candle's flame. A pale, gray tendril seeped through the darkness, its burnt scent of wax masking the fading stink of fear. He turned.

            Justice drawn ...

            Silently he replaced his sword to the sheath that hung at his side.

... and justice struck.

            And he was gone.

*****

            He strode toward the daised throne. Smooth columns of  iridescent stone, unnaturally white, encircled the temple like a pearl necklace, rising to brush an ethereal sky. He flowed across the nearly translucent marble floor with the fluidity and grace of the breeze that wisped through his long golden hair. Halting at the edge of the dais, he fell to one knee and bowed deeply to the figure seated before him.

            He waited patiently, not uttering a sound or lifting his gaze until she spoke. The woman on the throne ceremoniously rose and looked down upon her loyal servant, her creation. A slight admiring smile crossed her lips. She stepped lightly down the dais, a long, thick braid, silver like moonlight, falling gently to her knees.

            "Rise, Lucian, my beautiful one." Her voice sang like an endless choir.

            She reached towards him and lifted his gaze with a gentle hand, briefly brushing her fingers over his pale cheek like a sculptor in reverence of her handiwork. His aquamarine eyes glittered in the unearthly light of the sky above him, a hard coldness like the precious jewel, yet with a vibrance of life a stone could never attain. He straightened his elegant body and stood. A short robe, a glowing white, hung gently from his shoulders. The hem swayed ever so slightly in the spiced-honey scented breeze, a silky tickle on bare thighs.

            "My Lady, what do you wish of me?" His voice was a deep, velvety whisper.

            " The fate of the mortal world is bound to the task I give you. The Circle has foreseen the coming of the One of Destruction. We have been watchful of him, hoping he was not whom we now know him to be. " She turned and ascended to her throne. In an elaborate gesture tinged with tension, she seated herself and continued, " But he has broken the first two seals. We can be only watchful no longer. The great evil he seeks to unleash upon the world must remain bound. Your task is to remove the threat he brings to all who live. It has been decided: He must die."

            Lucian's face remained smooth and serene, unbroken by any expression. " As you will." He bowed deeply. Bright crimson lights sparkled at his back, flaring out to the sides, and coalescing into a solid form of strong, blood-red wings.

He sprung into the air, a swift stroke of his wings, and soared like a scarlet shooting star , disappearing quickly into the strangely beautiful sky.

            " Safe journey."

*****

            But today... 

            His pure attunement to his creator, honed by endless years, led him as it always did to his task. A dark tower loomed ahead; Jutted defiantly from the center of a lake encircled by jagged mountains and an eerie calm. Lucian landed lightly on the high, stone wall surrounding the tower. He closed his eyes, drinking in the energy that flowed through him, reaching out with it to sense the presence he sought. It was stronger now that he was so close. More real. More Alive. As it touched him, an odd feeling pricked his mind. Something seemed out of place. Uneasy, apprehensive, wrong.

 ... the blind melody rings out of tune, rippling and clashing through Justice's blade. The closer to the next fate, the closer to deafening discordance.

            He shoved the feeling aside; he had a task to complete. His cold beautiful eyes locked to the small garden below. With a crimson flutter, he drifted to the ground. His feet softly treading upon the hard stones, he faded away to nothingness.

            At the edge of a small pond, a dark figure knelt hunched over, rocking slowly back and forth as though some sort madness had overtaken it. Lucian watched from the shadow of a willow tree. His eyes widened as waves of agonizing sadness washed over him, along with an even stronger sense of wrongness. He shook it from him and stepped from the shadows, drawing his sword, the blade glinting darkly in the silver of a violet night. Approaching the figure, he abruptly stopped, startled at the sound of its voice.

            The willowy darkness before me calls me, welcomes me, knows me: Knows me before I make myself known. 

            " What do you want of me?" he murmured, his young voice tight and trembling, yet full of unexpected nobility.

            I step forward and draw scarlet death. Her word is still my will, and her word has named him. He is The One of Destruction. He is The Bringer of the End. He is Tomorrow's Terror.

He is . . . 

            Lucian took a few more steps toward whom he now realized was a mere boy. " There is nothing to fear, young one," the soothing words seeped from his lips in a deep whisper, almost of their own will.

... a child?

            "I am not afraid." The boy raised his face to the angel of his death; An oddly gentle face streaked with silent tears. His pained violet eyes gazed into shocked cold blue.

 His eyes are endless violet, vibrant and valiant. They speak softly to me of unfathomable fury, undying pain, soul retching anguish. But they do not scream.

            Lucian felt paralyzed. This was a boy, a mere boy. He couldn't have been older than thirteen. And his soft, fair face bore the nobility Lucian had sensed in his voice.

            He cupped a hand under the boy's chin and studied him intently. "Do you know why I am here?"

            The boy flinched at the touch, a reaction that seemed more born of instinct than fear. But his gaze never faltered, a faint glimmer of hope flashing in melancholy amethysts. " Yes."

            No cry of  regret...

            " Why are you not afraid, young one?"

" I long to die."

            ... of forgiveness,...

            Lucian's eyes quivered with confusion. "Why, young one?"

            He shifted his eyes to stare into nothingness. A tear rolled down the boy's cheek. " Please, just bring an end to this agony."

            ... of mercy.

            " I must know why you welcome death."

            " Because I am already dead." The boy's cold, flat tone sent a chill down Lucian's spine. For someone so young to be so tormented, so dead inside, was... wrong. Perhaps this was the disquiet he had sensed earlier. He turned the boy's face back to him and stared into eyes too majestic, too strong to belong to such a dead voice. Violet flames of defiance and rage flickered within their depths.

            He is majestic and innocent.

            " No..." Lucian slid his sword into its sheath, never taking his eyes off the raven-haired boy. His hand gently brushed stray strands of long dark hair from the boy's face. " ...No, you are not, little one. Not yet."

             He touched his palm lightly to the boy's forehead and gazed into endless violet, reaching, searching, stretching across the surface of his mind. Agony, anger, hate, defiance, sorrow, grief, rage, so much rage. Deeper still, and Lucian began to understand. Searing pain, torment, as flesh ripped, again and again and again; a clenched spirit, raging to fight; a barrier, captivity and despair and hopelessness; cold, so cold; obsession, discipline; a smile, tenderness, hope; dread, confusion, terrible warmth, shock, unfathomable fury, undying pain, soul-retching anguish. He stumbled back a step, breaking the link, and squeezed his eyes shut, the force of the boy's emotions crashing over him like a tidal wave. Falling to one knee, he fought to surface through the torrent and breathe.

            Condemned for a future yet written, tormented by a past neglected.

            " Little one," he whispered, choking past the emotions that still clouded his mind. Yet, one gentle feeling nudged him through the fog to clarity: Hope? He felt his body trembling, trembling like the foundation of his five thousand year existence. He clasped his hands to his head, willing at least his mind to stability if his body would not obey. He had to know. " Little one, for what do you hope?"    

            " You. " No hesitation in the young, quiet voice, only that damnable hope.

And I am his golden angel of death. He demands me, defies me.

            He clenched his eyes at the answer he somehow expected, the answer he feared. Slowly raising his golden head, he stared at the confused boy, a single glistening tear falling from a pale blue eye.

Am I death or justice? I seek an answer, but find only my soul. Its strings strum a truer tune. Truer than today's melody, today's word. It sings of my will, my purpose, my life. And it is me. Now I understand. I know I must do what I have never done. I know I must do what I have always done. I must defy her word to fulfill her word. I must defy Justice to bring justice. I must fall.

             An unspoken promise in the melting ice, he disappeared.

*****

            He stalked toward the dais, his robe and hair flapping behind him. His narrowed eyes focused at the throne far ahead, a burning ache tingling through his muscles, a foreign sensation to fit the foreign emotions that ensnared him. Lucian felt reckless and restless and with each step the tightness in his heart and head increased.

            As he approached, the Lady watched, resting tensed lips on her steepled hands and arching a silver-white brow. " Your task is completed so quickly?" she murmured musically. " I am pleased, my dear Lucian. Efficient as always."

            His heart seized, sending an intensified tingling throughout his body. Five thousand years of total obedience, five thousand years of total loyalty. And he was about to throw it all away. For what? His eyes closed. Twin violet flames flared from the darkness. His mind filled with those sorrowful eyes that had cried to him for hope and for death. Those eyes that had stabbed his soul, still stabbed his soul. The most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, even amongst the ethereal perfection of himself and his brothers. Beautiful for their innocence, their gentleness, their nobility. Golden lashes lifted, and stared a steady blue into the eyes of his creator.

             Savoring a quick breath, he fell to one knee, his gaze never faltering. " I have spared the boy." His voice was low, clear and even.

            " What?!" She vaulted to her feet, arms stiff and quivering white-knuckled at her side. " You failed?"

            His pale eyes narrowed. " No. "

            " Yet the boy lives?"

            " Yes."

            " Why?"

            " I will not kill an innocent." A cold fire rippled through his voice, mingling with his unfaltering blue-ice gaze.

            " An innocent? An innocent?!" She sunk onto her throne, hands clawing the armrests. " Fool! He will bring the end to all that we know!"

            " Perhaps. " Lucian slowly rose. " But he has not done so yet."

            Her grip on the throne whitened. " Yet? We and the world we are supposed to protect can't wait til 'yet'!"

            His fingers twitched at his side, curling into loose fists, as he took a breath. " I will not kill for maybes. And I will not kill the boy."

            The Lady relaxed her grip, and softened the anger on her face. Quietly, she said, " Come. Kneel beside me." A maze of confusion and uncertainty tangled fiery blue eyes, but he obeyed. Capturing his face in her hands, a slight smile arched her lips. " My beautiful one, there is no need for us to argue. You have been my loyal servant from the day I created you, and I have always trusted in your judgment and efficiency. But you must now trust me. You don't understand the depths of this matter."

            " But I do understand." He tore himself from her gentle grasp, and surged to stand, shaking, a gold tempest swirling on a silent wind. " I understand that you have ignored this child's lifelong torment at the hands of his father. You speak of protecting the world, but what about one innocent boy? Why is he unworthy of that protection. Why?"

            " I have told you why." A hint of sadness flittered across her face, then was caught by a glazing calm.

            " No you haven't. You speak of futures and destinies but nothing of deeds. He has done nothing worthy of death."

             "He is tainted, " she stated softly. " He seeks the seals that bind the one of evil. With each one he obtains, the taint within him will grow. He will slowly become the darkness he seeks. It is his destiny and his curse. He will doom us all to destruction."

            "No." The blue-ice flared. " His eyes spoke differently. He rejects destiny. This boy, even with all that he has suffered, fights against that 'taint'."

            " If so, why does he seek evil?"

            " I  don't believe he is. "

            " You think I lie?" She shot to her feet, hands gripping the throne's armrests as though it restrained her.

            " No." The slender, moonlight child, violet, dark, and silver, melted into his mind, molding a taste of a crying soul. " I just found no evil in his heart."

             " Well, I cannot allow the fate of the world to fall upon the fickle emotions of a mere boy."       

            " And I cannot allow the fate of the world to be more important than an innocent life!"

            " What are you saying, servant?! You still dare to defy me?!" she lurched forward a step, her platinum braid swinging violently behind her.

            " If that's what it takes to bring justice to this boy, then yes!"

            " And you would condemn the world for a mere boy?!"

            " What worth is that world if it exists on the blood of an innocent! Justice would have no value. Justice would no longer exist."

            " You dare preach to me of justice?!" she seethed, glaring down on his golden head.

            " I merely speak what is my soul. You made it so."

            " I made you to carry out my commands!"

            "So, do those commands now include murder? It is the imprint on my soul I obey." His hands clenched into white-red fists at his side. " And this is not it. This is not just!"

            " So you will not obey me?!"

            " Not in this. "

            " If you do not kill him, I will send one of your brethren that will."

            " So be it. I will not kill him. I cannot," he breathed in resigned strength, sadness swimming in clear blue eyes, gold tendrils fluttering like clouds across the sky.

            Tempest stood silently over Lucian, her face unreadable but for a ghost of pain." I regret what I must do," she said in a sorrowful whisper as she closed her eyes and stood beside her throne. " But you leave me no choice. "

            Four figures strode the same millennia-worn path toward the throne, each a different shade of fair, but each as tall and ethereally beautiful as Lucian. He stiffened and held his head defiantly as they approached either side of him and knelt.

            " My Lady," they spoke in a deep harmony.

            " Take him away, " she said, regret a sigh in the quiet song..

            The four gazed at the still figure between them with a startled mix of muted expressions. He ignored them. He knew his fate. He knew from the moment he left that tiny garden and those sad violet eyes. He had hoped she would understand as he did, hoped she would see the precious thing he had found in a dark lonely garden. A treasure for a cold, accusing world if it, she, would just let him live.

            As they rose, she turned, clutching the back of the throne, twin tears slipping down her cheeks. " And ensure that he can never return."

            " My Lady?" a sweet, gentle voice gasped.

            " You all heard me! " she hissed. " Never!"

             He was thrust to the cold floor, two pair of strong arms holding him down. He didn't struggle, just unfurled his blood-red wings from nothingness and stared with water- blue eyes at the back of his creator. Two hands braced against his back. A sharp tug at the base of each wing became a steady ache, a searing, twisting pain, that tore eye-piercing white through the whole of his body. A grinding, crunching, fiery and wet ripped flesh, broke bone, shredded muscle, and snapped cartilage. Lucian screamed. Yet his eyes never strayed from his creator; even while hot blood, as red as the wings that once were his, seeped from his shoulders, and his world grew hazy and gray.

            " My Lady, " Lucian said quietly, his voice raw. She shuddered, or so he thought. " I have one request."

            Without turning to face him or saying a word, she nodded. And he fell into darkness.

***********

            He was flung from them. No wings to fall gently to the earth. The only crimson the blood that flowed lazily down his back. Lucian ached, a numbing soreness that flushed his body in cold-hot waves. But through the pain, he could sense his violet-eyed midnight. So close. He smiled. His first smile. Strange on his lips, yet comfortable.

            A golden sun set on his golden hair, purpling a clear blue sky, Lucian started down the dusty dirt road. No regret, no question. He had a promise to keep.

***********

Under crimson wings I fall. A silver, violet night guides me. My mind and my soul ever focused, ever in tune, to the melody that made me. Her word is my everything; my will, my purpose, my life. Her word is justice. She is Justice. And I am her sword. Blood-red and brilliant. A brutal cold beauty to those who stir her hand, and so seal their terrible fate. A fate more forgiving than the deeds that dared her word. I am a silent sword, known only at the last. And the last is always the same. Soulless eyes, screaming into mine, as my blade strikes true, cry shamelessly for mercy. Not regret, not forgiveness. Never those. But I am merciful. Terrible and swift. Passage to the black agony of their eternity is quick. And I never regret. I never question. Justice drawn and justice struck.

But today the blind melody rings out of tune, rippling and clashing through Justice's blade. The closer to the next fate, the closer to deafening discordance. The willowy darkness before me calls me, welcomes me, knows me; Knows me before I make myself known.  I step forward and draw scarlet death. Her word is still my will and her word has named him. He is The One of Destruction. He is The Bringer of the End. He is Tomorrow's Terror. He is...  a child? His eyes are endless violet, vibrant and valiant. They speak softly to me of unfathomable fury, undying pain, soul-retching anguish. But they do not scream. No cry of regret, of forgiveness, of mercy. He is majestic and innocent. Condemned for a future yet written, tormented by a past neglected. And I am his golden angel of death. He demands me, defies me. Am I death or justice? I seek an answer, but find only my soul. Its strings strum a truer tune. Truer than today's melody, today's word. It sings of my will, my purpose, my life. And it is me. Now I understand. I know I must do what I have never done. I know I must do what I have always done. I must defy her word to fulfill her word. I must defy Justice to bring justice. I must fall.