Celestial Warriors 9
Night had fully claimed the city, bringing with it a heavy, humid air that whispered of an approaching storm. Angélica and Pamela walked in silence, returning from the scrapyard, their bodies and spirits frayed by the day’s training.
Angélica, in particular, felt her thoughts becoming a prison of doubt. Sol’s words regarding her lack of control echoed in her mind like an incessant drumbeat. She felt watched—not by the celestial cat, but by a dark presence that seemed to crawl through the skeletal shadows of the buildings.
Suddenly, a violent tremor wrenched the street, triggering car alarms in a cacophonous, metallic choir. This was no ordinary quake. The asphalt at the center of the avenue began to fissure and heave, as if something were clawing its way out from the bowels of the earth.
An unbearable stench of dampness, decay, and death flooded the air, choking them instantly. From the rift emerged a colossal figure, ten feet tall—a grotesque golem forged of black earth, jagged stone, and thick, rotted roots that writhed like dying serpents.
At the center of this amorphous mass, two points of feverish red light burned with a deep, primal hatred. The creature unhinged what served as a mouth—clotted with soil and debris—and unleashed a harrowing shriek that vibrated in the girls’ very bones, a cry of absolute dread and infinite despair:
“REVENGE! REVENGE!”
Sol appeared instantly, hovering between Angélica and Pamela, his fur bristling and his emerald eyes glowing with sudden urgency.
“Watch out!” Sol warned. “This is an Earth Demon, a manifestation of the deepest resentment. The soul within died under horrific conditions—trapped and forgotten. It feeds on the hatred and doubt of weak hearts. Angélica, maintain your focus!”
The Earth Demon lunged, its massive, rocky frame moving with jarring speed. It struck the ground with a fist of solid stone, sending out a shockwave that hurled Pamela against a lamppost. The cry of “REVENGE!” repeated ceaselessly, growing louder, heavy with a malice that turned their blood to ice.
Paralyzed by terror, Angélica tried to recall her breathing exercises, but fear was a claw at her throat. The demon turned toward her, locking its crimson eyes onto hers. In that moment, Angélica heard a voice in her mind—not Sol’s, but a guttural, venomous rasp emanating from the creature.
“You know what hate feels like, Angélica…” the voice hissed. “You know what it’s like to be failed, to be ignored, to be left to rot in the dark. Your light is a lie—a mask to hide the fury consuming you. Join me. Let us punish those who hurt us.”
The demon extended its arms of rotted roots, and from the earth beneath Angélica’s feet, black vines erupted. They snared her ankles, dragging her slowly into the asphalt, which had turned as soft as mire.
She screamed, and her golden light flickered, bleeding into a murky, bruised red. The creature’s hatred was finding an echo in her own frustration and fear.
Pamela, reeling from the blow, saw Angélica being consumed. She summoned her staff of light with fierce resolve.
“Let her go!” Pamela cried, casting a white containment net around the demon’s arms. But the creature was too strong; the rotted roots strained against the weave, threatening to snap the light.
The stench of death intensified, and the cry of “REVENGE!” escalated into a deafening roar that brought Pamela to her knees as she struggled to maintain the spell.
Sol flew toward Angélica, pouring his own energy into slowing the black roots. His voice thundered in the girl’s mind, fighting to break the demon’s hex.
“Listen to my voice, Angélica! Do not let her pain consume you! This demon is the restless soul of a young girl, not much older than yourself. She died due to the sheer negligence of workers who failed to mark a deep trench in the earth. She fell into the dark, screaming for help that never came. And worst of all… the workers, unaware, filled the hole the next day, burying her alive. Her agony—her hatred for those who entombed her—is what birthed this monster.”
Hearing the story, a wave of dread and empathy crashed over Angélica, nearly drowning her. The image of being buried alive—screaming in eternal darkness while the earth fills your mouth—was a horror beyond imagining.
But alongside the empathy, a blind fury rose against those who had caused such suffering. Her light flickered violently again, turning almost black.
“Yes! Feel the rage!” the demon’s voice celebrated. “REVENGE for her! REVENGE for us!”
Energized by Angélica’s hate, the demon shattered Pamela’s net with a brutal jerk, throwing the girl several yards away. The monster hoisted a massive boulder, poised to crush her.
“NO!” Angélica shrieked. Her hatred for the past collided with the terror of losing her friend. She realized her fury wasn’t helping the victim; it was only creating more.
She remembered Pamela’s words. She inhaled the foul air and exhaled the tension. I have to save her, not destroy her, she thought. Her light stabilized into a brilliant, untainted gold.
With newfound resolve, Angélica tore her feet free from the black roots. She sprinted toward Pamela, throwing herself between her friend and the descending boulder.
She thrust out both hands, projecting a beam of golden light so intense the rock disintegrated on contact. The demon recoiled, roaring in frustration as its red eyes flickered.
“REVENGE! NO LIGHT! REVENGE!”
Pamela stood up, coughing, and looked at Angélica in awe. “You did it! You controlled the fire!”
“I understood her pain, Pamela,” Angélica said, her voice steady but laced with sorrow. “We can’t fight her with more hate. She has suffered enough. We have to show her that this path only leads to more darkness.”
Angélica stepped slowly toward the titan of earth and roots. The demon attempted another strike, but Angélica did not use her light as a weapon.
Instead, she projected a sphere of soft, warm pink light, radiating pure empathy and peace. The sphere enveloped the monster, permeating the soil and the rotted roots.
“We hear you,” Angélica whispered, ignoring the lingering tremor of fear. “We know what happened. We know the horror you faced in the dark. It is unfair. It is terrible. You have every right to be angry. But please, look at what you’re doing. You are spreading the very terror you felt. You are trapped in that hole again—but this time, by your own hate. Your resentment toward the living won’t undo what was done. It only keeps you in the shadows.”
The demon froze. Its red eyes dimmed, and the cry of “REVENGE!” crumbled into a choked, mournful sob. The rotted roots ceased their writhing. The pain in the creature’s voice was now naked, stripped of its shield of fury.
Pamela, sensing the shift, joined her will to the cause. She raised her staff, not to strike, but to weave a circle of pure white light around the monster, containing the negative energy while allowing Angélica’s compassion to flow through.
“We release you from this burden,” Pamela added. “You don’t have to carry the weight of their negligence. You deserve to rest in peace.”
Angélica’s pink light intensified, becoming a divine embrace that began to dissolve the black earth and heal the decayed roots. The monstrous form crumbled, and from within emerged the ethereal figure of a young girl in soiled work clothes, her gaze filled with infinite sadness. The hate had vanished from her eyes, replaced by a profound sense of relief.
The girl’s spirit looked at Angélica and Pamela, and a single, silent tear rolled down her translucent cheek. She smiled softly before fading into a trail of golden light that ascended toward the star-swept sky.
The asphalt mended itself, and the stench of decay vanished, replaced by the scent of ozone from the storm that finally broke, washing over the city.
Sol perched on Angélica’s shoulder. “Well done, girls. Together. Angélica, today you learned the ultimate lesson: compassion is more powerful than fury. Your healing light cannot work if your heart is poisoned by hate.”
Angélica nodded, feeling a peace she had never known. The fear and doubt were still there, but they no longer ruled her. She looked at Pamela, and they shared a knowing smile. They had faced the abyss and chosen love.
The battle for the city’s souls continued, but they now knew their true strength lay not in destruction, but in redemption…
…"
–“Continue reading and experience the original text in Spanish at https://fictograma.com/. Join our open-source community of writers today!”–