Sergeant Demond Winter was here. This was Operation Seraph. I was stunned into silence as he and his brother both finished their salutes.
Sergeant Elon regarded Tim with a look of mild shock and concern.
Sergeant Demond was completely and utterly unphased. He glanced at each of us. “Sir, Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Tim cracks a smile, looking to Sergeant Demond. “I’m sure it is a pleasure Sergeant.” Tim addresses Jorge. “Jorge, why don’t you show the Sergeants to their quarters, for now? We’ll work on briefings in due time. Right now I’m still getting Captain Vázquez up to speed.”
Jorge nods. “Sure thing, Saint Timothy!” He smiles, ushering the Winter brothers along. “Just this way. I’m Jorge Chavez, curator of the Guardian Temple. If you have any questions, I’m more than happy to answer.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a question,” Elon says. “Is our S.O. a real friggin’ angel?”
Demond slaps Elon upside his head. “Later.”
Tasha is walking from one of the hallways towards us when she passes by the Winter brothers.
Demond stops, sniffing the air as she passes. “What the hell are you?” He stares at Tasha with suspicion.
Tasha also halts, twisting to face him. “I beg your pardon?”
Demond narrows his eyes at her, stalks up to her, nostrils flaring. He’s a good head taller than Tasha.
Tasha squares herself up against him as best she can despite being shorter than him. “I am a priestess of this Temple, and you are a guest, so I would expect you to treat me with a bit more respect–” she looks him up and down— “young man.”
Demond takes a step towards her. “Is that the lie you’re telling them, Demon? I can smell the pheromones on you: they aren’t natural. Are you trying to seduce every man in here?”
Tasha doesn’t back down. “So far it hasn’t affected anyone, it can’t be helped if you’re sensitive. Besides, I don’t have any control over it."
Demond grabs Tasha’s wrist. “Probably a good idea to get control over that.”
I’m about to speak up before I see Tasha slide her free arm under Sergeant Demond’s extended arm pit and turn, shoulder tossing him over her and down onto the ground.
Tasha lets go of Demond immediately, grimacing. “Do not touch me.” She turns, her eye glowing red slightly. “For your own good.”
Demond gets to his feet, his nose flaring. He quickly removes his uniform jacket, tossing his tie to the ground. “You want to have a go at me, demoness?” he growls.
I turn to Tim. “Stop him!”
Tim looks on stoically, eyes fixed on Demond. “I’ve heard he has full control over it. I need to see it.”
“See what?” I demand.
Demond kicks his boots off, quickly pulling his white button-down shirt off, which I notice is velcroed with false buttons. “You bit off more than you could chew, demon!”
“Do not call me a demon.” Tasha stands firm, slowly reaching behind her and pulling out a simple wooden staff. “I do not wish to put you down, but if I must, I must.”
Demond’s right lip quivers in a snarl. “Was that a dog joke, you bitch?!” His whole body suddenly starts to swell.
To my utter shock, I watch as Demond’s face stretches into a muzzle, his ears shifting up towards the top of his head.
All the while, he grows from a man of about six and a half feet tall to a creature towering over nine feet tall. White fur rapidly covers his body as his eyes turn yellow from brown. Soon his legs fill the blue uniform pants he’s wearing, though they seem to stretch to accommodate as his feet rip through the socks he’s wearing, a huge pair of wolf-like paws growing to fit the bulk of the rest of him. He must be over eight feet tall.
My jaw is agape as I stare in disbelief at what I’m seeing. ‘White Wolf’ was his code name: I thought it was a play on his nocturnal missions and his association with death. Maybe a play on the fact he was a black man to throw anyone from associating his handle with the soldier himself. I never imagined that Sergeant Demond Winter was an actual, factual, werewolf!
Tasha’s face softens as she seems him in his massive form.
Demond lumbers towards her, his eyes oddly human as he towers over her. “Got something to say to me now, demon?” he growls low as he stoops down to get nearly eye to eye with Tasha.
I’m staring awestruck standing by helplessly.
Tasha slowly places her staff back between her wings on her back. She reaches out with a white-gloved hand and gently rests her hand on his muzzle. “I’m sorry.”
Demond’s ears flick flat against his head and his eyebrow raises. “What?”
Tasha slides her fingers along the fur on his snout. “To you, the smell must be unbearable. I’m sorry.” She gently removes her hand, looking him over. “Is my presence too much for you? Maybe there’s another scent that would mask it for you? I have no desire to seduce you.”
In any other context, that might seem like a fairly passive put down.
Demond takes a step back, looking her over, “No. I can ignore the urges your pheromones give me easily.” His voice is low and gravely. “I thought you were fooling everyone here.”
Tasha looks to Tim, beaming to him. “That is my half brother.” She turns back to Demond. “I know what I look like, what I am. I assure you, I mean no one any harm here.”
Demond’s form slowly shrinks back down to human shape, his uniform pants returning to normal size with the rest of him. He picks up his clothing, slipping his feet back into his boots and pulling his shirt over a very defined chest. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He glares at Tasha. “I’ve managed to ignore my animal instincts, I have it down to an art, so your powers aren’t going to affect me.”
Tasha returns the contented gaze back to Demond. “Trust me, you are the last person I would want to seduce.”
The two glare at each other for a few awkward moments before Demond rejoins his brother.
Elon looks to Tim and me before Jorge leads them down a long hallway. “Sir, Ma’am, I’m sorry for my brother.”
“Elon! Double time!” Demond shouts from down the hallway.
Elon vanishes down the hallway.
Tim’s stoic watch over the events didn’t end once, as he watched Demond leave, admiration on his face as Demond turned down the hall.
By the time they’re out of earshot, I turn to Tim and grab him by the shoulders. “Do you have any idea what kind of psychopath Sergeant Demond is?” I whisper. “I mean, without even knowing he’s a damned werewolf!”
Tasha has been silently fuming where she stood, but moving over to the two of us, her tail flicking back and forth in agitation, she hisses, “Who is that infuriating man Timothy?”
“Sergeant Demond Winter,” Tim’s says softly as we both break his reverie. “I’ve read his transcripts. He’s an exceptional soldier. He also has perfect control over his Lycanthropy, It’s unheard of.”
“Have you read the debriefs?” I shout. Apparently, the ones I had read had left out some minor information regarding his ‘special abilities’.
Tasha crosses her arms under her chest, pouting. “He is absolutely infuriating!”
Tim closes his eyes for a moment. When he reopens them, he’s deadly serious. “I have read his debriefs. I need him, Sofia. I’m running out of options.” Tim addresses Tasha next. “I will discuss what happened between you two. It’s just a misunderstanding, I’m sure.”
I glare at him. “What mission is a bloodthirsty nut job like Demond Winter needed?”
Tim’s serious face hasn’t wavered. “One where we’re fighting literal demons.”
“So you get a monster to fight monsters?” I cross my arms, mirroring Tasha.
Tim’s face falls. “You think he’s a monster?”
“Yes, Tim, a Monster. He’s a literal monster! Not to mention from all the first-hand accounts, he doesn’t work well with others, he’s not going to function with the group. The man is a loner, he’s unstable, and he takes great pleasure in killing!”
Tim adjusts his wings briefly, looks to Tasha, then back to me. “I’ll talk to him about,” he clears his throat, “the monster… stuff…”
Tasha seems to calm down slightly. “Timothy?”
Tim sighs, moving his hand to his temples. “I need him, okay?”
I walk towards Tim. “Are you okay?”
There was a very loud banging noise coming from down the hallway. Not the sort of bang you’d get from a gun, mind you. This was a much louder sound, like the sort of sharp bang you’d hear from two cars smashing into each other.
I hear a woman shouting, “Zeph!”
Tim turns towards where the bang was and seems to start running before he suddenly stops and looks unsteady on his feet.
“Tim?” I ask, walking over to him. I place my hand on his shoulder and he nearly collapses to the floor. I just barely manage to catch him and keep him upright.
Tim’s face grimaces like he was listening to nails on a chalkboard.
“Timothy!” Tasha shouts, running to his other side and helping to guide him to the floor in a sitting position. Tasha looks to him with concern crossing her face. “Something is wrong.” She places her hand on his head, “There’s… some kind of dark energy affecting him.”
I move in front of him, hugging him tightly. “Tim, are you okay? Say something!” As I hold him I feel his heart hammering in his chest.
Tim gently places one hand on my back, his breathing labored, his eyes closed tight, sweat dripping from his brow. “I-I don’t know what that was but…” As his eyes open, I see them filled with black, as if someone stole the whites from his eyes.
My eyes widen in shock. “Tim, your eyes! What happened?”
Tim’s face goes pale for a moment and he bolts to his feet, staggering, and grabbing his head. “Damn it, not now!” he shouts.
Tasha places her hands on his shoulders and gets his attention. “Timothy, look at me and calm yourself.” She beams at him. “You don’t have to be scared of yourself. She won’t be afraid if you aren’t. Just breathe. You’re safe, okay?”
Tim seems slightly taller than he was moments ago, which is unnerving. I slowly get up to my feet, concerned as I watch Tim’s shoulders heave with his slowing breaths. Then he shrinks slightly as he does this, returning to his normal height.
Like clouds of ink giving way to clear water, I watch as the whites of his eyes return. Tim’s breathing evens out as he places his hand on Tasha’s wrist. “Thank you.”
Tasha takes her hands off of him. “Better than knocking yourself out for no reason.”
Tim shakes his head. “I can’t turn now, not with…” he glances to me, worry crossing his face.
I hug him tight. “Explain Tim, what just happened?”
“I’m not completely sure.”
“Why did your eyes… go dark like that?” I ask.
Tim turns from me, looking ashamed.
Tasha sighs. “Timothy, you need to tell her.”
Tim’s still looks admonished he turns back to me. “I’m… only half angel. The other half is… it’s darker.”
Tasha stomps her foot onto the floor. “It is not dark!” she shouts, offended. “You have to stop thinking of it that way, Timothy! It’s a gift! A Gift from father before he turned his back on God!”
Tim rolls his eyes. “What triggered it, is the question.” Tim glances to where we had heard the loud bang before. “We need to check on Eva.”
“Eva?” I ask as we start running across the main foyer and towards a huge entryway that reaches from floor to ceiling, each with a door open on either side.
Tim clears his throat as we walk inside. “Yes, that was her shouting before.”
Tasha looks to me, giving me an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll get along well.” She heads off to another hallway as Tim and I head towards the loud bang we had heard.
…
We eventually walk into the room. I look around at what appears to be an amphitheater. Oddly the spot we walk into appears to be the stage. Going up are rows and rows of chairs, except for one much larger chair, or throne, sitting about halfway up. That’s where I spotted two more angels.
Both were women. The first is sitting in front of the throne. She has silvery wings like Tim and shares his eye color as well. Her hair is brown, however, unlike Tim’s, and long. She was a bit on the shorter side, maybe five and a half feet tall or so. She had brown and burgundy robes. I see her heavy brown leather boots under her. Her face is a grimace of pain as she rubs her head.
Irfan is sitting next to her, offering her a small vial of clear liquid. “This should help you get back on your feet.” He looks concerned. “Brother Timothy, were you affected?”
Tim confirms to Irfan. “Yes. I believe so. I recovered faster though. Not sure why.”
Irfan looks to me, a sly smile on his face. “Oh yes, unsure of why you recovered faster than your lonely sisters,” he says sarcastically.
Sitting in a chair next to the throne is a much larger woman, with black hair tied in a braid and violet eyes, which I swear I’ve seen somewhere before. She’s an absolute monster of a woman, looks like a weight lifter of some kind, standing a little over seven feet tall. She has a pair of large white wings and she is rubbing her temples, slowly getting to her feet. “Oh, that was weird. I felt dizzy,” she complains in a surprisingly young voice. “Did the throne break when I dropped it?”
“No.” The smaller angel groans as she drinks the medicine given her. “I feel like I got hit by a damn truck. What was that?”
Jason chimes in from one of the seats. “Dark magic only affecting Timothy, Eva, and Zepherina? Looked fairly nasty and powerful.”
Irfan has a look of worry cross his face. “Let’s hope that is not a weakness.”
The shorter angel woman stands up, stretching, “Well, that remedy worked well Brother Irfan, thank you.”
Irfan chuckles as he stands. “At this rate, I’m going to run out of these medicines. I’ll need to stock up.” He turns his attention to Jason. “I’ll give you a shopping list.”
Jason nods. “Tell it to me and I’ll write it down. Last time you wrote it down and the second I left the temple, I couldn’t read a word of it.” He stretches, “Besides we should probably drop our latest guest off at a hospital outside of the temple.”
I shoot a glare at Jason. “Josh, his name is Josh. Is he okay?”
“He’s resting now, but fine.” Irfan looks to the larger angel woman., “You’re doing well enough?”
The large angel nods. “Peachy!”
Tim walks over to the smaller angel. “Eva, you’re steady?”
The woman, apparently Eva, just nods, glancing to me. “Who’s this?”
Tim chuckles, looking to me. “Sofia, this is my twin sister, Evangeline.”
Eva’s face turns from uninterested to predatory. “Ah, so this is the infamous Sofia who’s had my brother twisted in knots for the past three weeks?” She offers me her hand. “Please, call me Eva.”
Her tone is the same as I’d expect from some posh trust fund child in Manhattan. Instantly I feel rubbed the wrong way, but I do my best to put on a smile. Finally meeting Tim’s family, I don’t want to make a bad first impression. I offer my own hand, which she grips tightly. “Sofia.”
Without letting go of my hand she pulls me closer, “They’re fairly useless without us, aren’t they?” she smiles, giving a sidelong glance to Tim.
“I’m sorry?”
“Men.” she smiles, looking at Tim with a bemused gaze.
Tim rolls his eyes.
“Well… they have their uses.” I give her a sly smile back.
Eva’s face falls slightly as she releases my hand. “Well… I’m sure they are useful for something.”
“Sex.” The larger woman says, tauntingly to me and Eva. “You can say it, it’s not a dirty word. Men are good for sex!”
Tim snickers. “And this is my youngest sister, Zepherina.”
Zepherina towers over me. “Half-sister!” Zepherina shouts with a broad smile, she offers out her hand as Eva did. “Zeph is perfectly fine.”
I take it, and she grabs my hand hard. I do my best to grab back, but she has a hell of a grip. “Sofia, or Sofie. Soph works but… yeah, try not to bother.”
Zeph pulls me close. “You just let me know if my half-brother hurts you, cause if he does, I’ll kick his ass.”
I can’t help but laugh and grin at Zepherina. “You’ll have to beat me to it.”
Zeph lets go of my hand and glances at Tim. “Oh, I like her!”Tim is grinning at the two of us. Then he looks around as if there was a bug flying around his head.
“Tim?” I frown. So far the day was getting far too surreal. I wasn’t too sure I was prepared for much more.
“Fatima?” Tim whispers.
Eva turns to Tim, her eyebrow raised. “The nun who Tasha lost?”
Zeph walks toward the large stone throne, picking it up with shocking ease and moving it over slightly. She places it down on the ground gently, though it still grinds as its incredible weight shifts back to the floor. “I thought she’d be dead.”
“I can hear her… but…” he looks to the throne. “I need that.” He walks towards it, sitting down and grabbing the armrests, closing his eyes tight.
Eva shakes her head. “Brother, when are you going to realize…?” She walks over to the throne, and kneels before him, taking his hands in hers. “It needs us both.”
Tim and Eva’s wings soon glow silver and both are enveloped in soft white light.
Zepherina shakes her head, placing one hand on her hip and turning to me. “They’re gonna be stuck like that for hours now.”
I face Zeph, looking concerned. “What are they doing?”
“They’re communing. You see, normally the child of the Metatron is the one who gets the job after they’re born,” Zeph explains. “But Tim and Eva are fraternal twins, so both of them share it. Tim can talk to God, but he has no control over what he hears. Eva can’t talk to God on her own, but she helps Tim control the communion.” Zepherina sighs, “At least that’s what Lady Tasha says.”
I stare at Tim and Eva. They’re unmoving, barely breathing, their wings shining silver as the glow pulses around them. “So… hours you said?”
Zeph simply nods. “Yep.”
I sigh. “I guess I’m going to head to my room, maybe change out of this uniform and explore this place.”
Zeph nods. “If you need a guide, just ask! I’ll be in the training room.” Zeph grins proudly at me and then wanders off.
I head towards our room, where I spot Sergeant Demond, of all people, waiting by the door. I do my best to steel myself and keep calm.
Sergeant Demond moves quickly to attention. “Captain Vázquez, Ma’am, permission to speak freely, Ma’am?”
I shoot him a rather indigent glare. “Permission granted Sergeant. At ease.”
Demond slides out of attention, though his face still shows he’s rather serious. “I understand you saw my briefings. I’m afraid they’ve painted a rather poor picture of myself in your eyes.”
“And how do you know that?” I inquire.
Demond points to his ears. “I heard you speaking with Major Crestfall, Captain.”
“How could-” I stop myself before continuing, “Right, wolf ears. Jesus, are there any humans in this place?”
Demond nods, “Yourself and Jorge, there’s another male human here as well, though I’ve yet to meet him.”
“Good to know, I guess,” I grumble, frustrated at my rhetorical question getting answered, “Sergeant, why shouldn’t I believe the debriefings about you?”
Demond continues, “I snapped at SOs whenever I was being documented, I threatened anyone other than my brother who was on the mission with me. I piled bodies as high as I could.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because they tried to make more like me. They made me infect two soldiers, Captain. Good men.” Demond explained.
“And what happened to them?”
Demond shook his head slowly. “They couldn’t control it as I could. They’d fly into a rage and transform into animals at the slightest provocation, attacking friendly targets, and at times not even following the mission. In the end, what I had to do was mercy…” he says as he trails off a bit.
I think for a moment, “So you killed them then?”
“I did what needed to be done. To make sure they didn’t try to find ‘better’ candidates, I just acted like someone who only had the slightest bit more control over my abilities than them. That’s why the Major asked me to help train him.”
I shoot an incredulous look at Demond. “‘Train’ him? I’m unsure why Major Crestfall would be asking you for help.”
Demond raises an eyebrow to me, and then whispers, “He hasn’t shown you then?”
I hear a whisper in the back my mind, “more veils to be removed.”
The whisper must be Samael, again, messing with me. I ignore it and I focus on Demond. “He’s shown me he’s an Angel if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“Nephilim,” Demond corrects, “he’s a half angel. Has he explained what the other half is?”
“He said it was dark.” I admit, “but not much else.”
Demond nods to me, “He wants me to show him how to control it. But more than anything, he’s afraid of it. He doesn’t feel like himself when the ‘dark’ comes over him, but I have a feeling it’s not his own perception he’s afraid of.”
My face falls. “What do you mean?”
Concern crosses Demond’s face. “It’s you, Captain. He’s afraid of how you’d react to seeing him in his darker form.”
“And why do you think Major Crestfall would feel that way about me?” I was hoping to avoid an issue where two senior officers were found out to be an item by a subordinate.
Demond cracks a shit-eating grin. “Captain, I smell him on you, and I smell you on him.”
My face flushes. “Y-You need to stop selling these things!” Damn it, I should have showered after we made love.
Demond chuckles. “I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” Demond’s eyes light up like a light bulb just went off in his head, “but maybe you can help. 0800, tomorrow morning, Major Crestfall had requested my first session to help him. I need you there, observing in secret.”
I frown. “So you are requesting me to spy on him?”
Demond nod, “Yes. If you could, Captain, that would help Major Crestfall out a lot. I only ask you to leave your fear at the door. Don’t be frightened by what he looks like.”
“I don’t care what he looks like as long as he’s himself.”
Demond leans back against the wall. “If you’re there, I’m sure he will be himself. You’ll know when to make your presence known. In the meantime, probably a good idea to get some rest.”
“Fine then, Sergeant, I’ll see you at 0800. Dismissed.” I say shortly.
Demond salutes me. “Ma’am, Yes Ma’am.” and then heads off down the hallway.
I was not completely sure if I could trust Demond, but if it could help Tim, then I would do it. But I wondered what Tim would look like. Hellboy? Hellraiser? What was I walking into? I headed into Tim and I’s quarters, ready to turn in for the night, not sure what to expect in the morning. What was the darker side Tim was talking about? It was all I could think about as I went to sleep.
…
“Ask and you shall receive.” I hear Samael’s voice whisper.
I sit up in my cot, looking about frantically. I don’t see anyone in the room, but I hear plenty of chatter and footsteps not far from the door.
I throw on some clothing and shoes quickly, opening the door. I look out into the hallway to see hundreds of people, mostly angels, walking through the marble halls. On top of that, the lights in the halls are brighter, as if every single one is on. The ceiling is no longer obscured by shadows. Every part of the place was illuminated.
I narrow my eyes at the sight before me, and turn to look into my simple room, “Samael, what is this?”
Samael appears in my room, a satisfied grin on his face. “O’ Sofia you never fail this angel.”
I close the door behind me, glaring at him. “What’s the point of this?”
Samael doesn’t move, still smiling, still towering over me, his red halo rotating behind his permed hair and casting a red light in the room and over his white wings. “Merely answering your question.”
I opened the door slowly, looking around. “What question is that?”
“What is Timothy’s darker side made of?” Samael’s voice whispers in my ear. “But, if thou doth not wish to see, then thou may leave this vision. Merely open thine physical eyes, and close those of thine’s mind, as an accomplished lucid dreamer such as yourself is fully capable of doing.”
I’m about to do just as he says, not surprised Samael knows about my lucid dream experience when I hear a commotion behind me. I turn to see two people walking through the crowd of angels.
The first reminds me far too much of Zepherina. She’s much older than Zepherina but has the same violet eyes, her hair worn in a long black braid on one side, the other side a short buzz cut. She’s wearing white full plate armor and sports massive black feathered wings.
The other is a man, with short salt and pepper hair. He is wearing a brown uniform with dark purple epaulets with short gold tassels draped over each shoulder. Brass buttons run up along his right breast before the side of the uniform takes a turn and meets at the other side of his collar. He wears no marks of honor or medals. Brass buttons are on the cuffs of his uniform, though his right hand is clad in a leather glove that has a golden claw wrapped around it. The entire uniform seems oddly loose on him as if it were made from someone larger.
What truly caught my eyes was his eyes, his bright icy blue eyes. His eyes look around shimmering in wonderment and joy as he makes his way through the angels.
“Is that…”
“Saint Timothy Crestfall’s Father,” Samael explains. “Kriggary Misho.”
I turn to face Samael once more. “This is the past? The truth? No embellishment?”
Samael nods his head slowly, the halo’s light shifting around the room as he does. “No embellishment, I bring forth the truth of the past to thee. Shall thine eyes bear it witness, or will thou cast aside the truth?”
I walk out of the room and follow the pair. It was an easy task once I got behind them, as everyone was staying well out of their way.
I heard hushed whispers as I went by.
“Is that Ragna Misho?”
“They call her the Angel of War.”
Though it was clear all the whispers weren’t about the woman, Ragna, alone.
“Is he the lost Scribe Lord?”
“The cursed prophet?”
I notice that whoever I looked at not react to me: they didn’t touch me, or even look at me. I was clearly just observing.
Kriggary speaks up as they near a pair of massive doors. “The Guardian Council, sister, do you see it?”
Ragna regals the doors with a bemused look. “Yes, they’ve managed to make a set of large ornate doors.” She looks over the floors, walls, and ceiling. “The rest is a seamless resin, very pretty mind you, but all doable with appropriate technology.”
Kriggary shakes his head. “No, Sister, you’ll see. The council will free us from our unending curse of life!”
Ragna rolls her eyes, moving across from the doors and sinking down to her haunches. “And if you are wrong, as I thought?”
Kriggary’s face falls. “Then do what you will out here, but there will be no need.”
Ragna nods as the doors open before Kriggary.
I walk in alongside the man, and I see the amphitheater that Zepherina and Evangeline were in earlier.
Unlike before, where all the seats were empty, here the seats are filled to the brim. The faces vary in color, gender, creed, age, though all wear white robes. Some wear golden jewelry of some kind or another, others have crowns or tiaras.
On the center, throne sits an angel I’ve seen before. From the grand foyer, the two giant angel statues were made in her likeness. Seeing her in color is a different experience. Her hair is brown, long, and flowing over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her eyes look like bright green jewels. Her face is soft and troubled, her overall built rather frail. Giant silver wings spring from her back, seemingly surrounding her in an aura of light.
Unlike the others, her robes are gray, with black hems and cuffs. There are silver accents over her robes here and there, and a few steel rings on her fingers with different colored jewels.
She slowly rises to her feet, standing almost five foot seven, maybe five foot eight.
Kriggary kneels before her as the doors close. “Guardians… Please hear my humble request.”
Saint Dinah speaks with a regal tone, though there’s a nervousness to her voice for some reason. “Scribe Lord Kriggary, I am Saint Dinah the Metatron,” she begins. “You have been lost for some time. I am glad to see you return to this holiest of temples. Though your means are…” her face falls, “mundane.”
Kriggary stares up to her. “It is this curse of immortal life, Saint Dinah. Cast upon me by the fallen Guardian Lucifer out of spite, I suffer unending life and a seething wrathful demeanor.”
At this last point, Saint Dinah heaves a sigh, clenching one fist in her hand, closing her eyes.
“I beg you: end my torment. Remove this heinous curse upon me. I beg you, Guardians, for all I had done before I was cursed, please, grant this request,” Kriggary finishes.
There’s murmuring among those in their seats before Saint Dinah raises her hand to silence them. She opens her eyes, “We have heard of your return, Scribe Lord, though we feared the worst.” She fixed him with a stern gaze. “We found you have accomplished great acts of chaos and death wherever you have trod.”
“It is this curse that drives me to violence and anger. Free me from it, and I shall once again serve you faithfully, oh Guardians!”
Saint Dinah sits down in the throne. “I shall convene the Guardians one last time, to consider your plight, Kriggary.” As her eyes close, she is enveloped in a white light and her wings shimmer, just as Tim and Eva’s did.
There from the crowd, I hear a few faint whispers.
“She has already asked, has she not?”
“Surely she is not second-guessing the will of God?”
After a short time the light around Saint Dinah fades, a tear rolls down her cheek. “Kriggary…” she opens her eyes and looks to him as if she were mourning a dying loved one. “Your soul is too laden with sin, we are unable to grant your request.” She purses her lips. “I am so very sorry.”
Kriggary’s eyes shift from an ice blue to a blood red in an instant. “You are… unable?”
The council members begin to grow restless.
Kriggary slowly gets to his feet, red steam rises from his eyes, “How… can the Guardians… be unable?” he shouts.
“Kriggary, calm down!” Saint Dinah shouts.
“I am no longer Kriggary!” His eyes continue to burn and I watch in shock as his skin changes to red scales and his neck rises out of his uniform, lengthening like a serpent. His face pushes into a lizard-like maw as a pair of horns push straight out of the top of his head. His body swells in size, causing the uniform that once fit loosely to tighten against his larger chest and arms.
I stagger back as I watch on in shock as he continues to transform.
A pair of massive scaled red wings push out from behind the uniform, a pair of flaps seem to allow them to slide out without ripping the uniform. His golden gauntlet clings tightly to his right hand now, adding golden clawed tips to already vicious claws. A tail slides out from behind him in a similar flap set-up near his pants. Lastly, his feet change to lizard claws, the toes pushing out of the boots he was wearing, the remains of the boots acting as armor on his feet.
He growls low. “Kriggary was your slave.” He clenches his golden clad fist. “I am Xyphiel.” The red smoke continues to rise from his eyes as he fixes Saint Dinah with a hate-filled glare, “and I am your reckoning!”