Page 66 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

A gust of wind carried the faint sound of singing from the Chorale.

Haniel closed her eyes, her soft, youthful face tipped back to listen.

“Exquisite, isn’t it? Hundreds of voices blending with not a single sour note.

I understand why our father used to spend all his time at the Chorale.

It allowed him to forget the ugliness in the world below. ”

“Answer the question,” Gavriel snapped, losing patience with her rambling.

Haniel regarded him with bland indifference. “Cyphers are abominations,” she said. “They are cursed with the ability to birth Sinn, our age-old enemies. But my son is different. He is sterile.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“There are ways of testing it,” she replied evasively. “My point is that he has immeasurable value. He can move in elite circles, both witch and mortal, with no one the wiser. Leviathan is loyal to Mount Meru, but he appears human.”

“Loyal to Mount Meru?” Gavriel echoed. “Or to you, dear sister?”

Haniel ignored the sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter.

My aims are the same as our father’s.” She took a step forward.

“The mortals and witches will make kaldurite into a weapon against us. They are too greedy and corrupt to be allowed to govern themselves anymore. They have proven time and again that they don’t deserve free will.

Fear is the only thing that seems to keep them in line. ”

Her gaze turned to the distant silhouette of the Citadel. “The legions have been idle for too long,” she added softly. “It is time they were put to good use.”

A chill swept him. When had Haniel’s thinking become so distorted? He had to talk her out of this before it was too late.

“Not everyone is like Barsal Casolaba,” Gavriel protested.

“Some of our cousins are loyal and generous, with little thought for themselves. Others make beautiful works of art and music, dance and literature. Take my city of Arioch. It is a hub of learning and enlightenment. If you would deign to leave your tower and actually speak to the people who live in your own province, you would find that they are not much different than we are?—”

Her shrill laugh of incredulity cut him off. “You can’t be serious. Our father took great care when he made us. But humans were created to be flawed. Travian’s twisted sense of humor, I suppose.”

“Just because a thing is flawed does not make it worthless,” Gavriel said firmly.

“Can you not see, Haniel? It is humanity’s very imperfections that allow them to grow and change for the better, while we remain static.

Worse, afraid to admit that we are wrong because such a thing is supposed to be impossible. ”

He thought of all the angels who had been condemned to Plain of Contemplation for minor infractions. The trials were conducted swiftly and secretly, but it must be thousands by now. What had happened to them all?

Haniel shook her head. “I admit that a few humans do rise above the herd, but most spend their lives competing to fulfill primal urges for food, shelter, and procreation. They are industrious and even quite clever at times, but they are also cruel and selfish.”

She sniffed. “The witches think they are superior, more civilized, but that is only because they wield the power of lithomancy. Look at what they have done with that power! They pay lip service to the elected assemblies, but in reality Sion is ruled by an oligarchy that feeds off the blood of the mines.” She studied him with an obstinate tilt to her chin. “Tell me that is not true.”

“Some of it might be,” he conceded. “But it is far more complicated than you present it to be. I suppose you will claim the angels are perfect.”

“Not at all. But they hate us for it anyway, brother. And you can be assured that they will use this new stone to pull us down and destroy us.” Her face hardened. “We must control the source of the kaldurite, and you will show me where it is.”

Haniel’s utter confidence rankled his pride. How dare she presume to issue orders? She had no authority over him.

Before he could think twice, Gavriel withdrew the Rod of Penance from behind his back. “Or,” he growled, “I will send you to the lower plane to contemplate the wisdom of your actions, sister.”

Her sapphire eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Righteous fury filled him.

“I have every right. You ordered the death of Barsal Casolaba. You tried to kill me —twice. And your union with a witch has produced offspring with dangerous and unsanctioned powers.” He strode forward, blood heating.

Haniel retreated, nearly tripping over her gown in her haste.

“As chief magistrate of Sion, I judge you guilty.”

Haniel bared her teeth like a cornered animal as he raised the Rod of Penance. She stood at the very edge of the platform, her wings tensed to take flight.

“Your sentence is . . .” Gavriel drew the thin, frozen air deep into his lungs.

He thought of Alluin Westwind. Reminded himself of why he had come here in the first place.

With a supreme effort, he mastered his anger.

“To return to Kota Gelangi and call off your hunt for Kal Machena. The kaldurite does not belong to us.” Weariness came over him.

“I cannot judge you for loving a witch. But I strongly suggest you leave before I change my mind.”

Haniel eyed him warily. “Gavriel Morningstar showing mercy? No one would believe it.”

“I have changed.” His voice grew stern. “But I cannot allow your son to walk free. Levi is a murderer and will be brought to account for it.”

She stared at Gavriel for a long moment. “If you can find him,” she retorted, eyeing the Rod of Penance. “Now put that vile thing away before?—”

“What is transpiring here?”

Gavriel’s heart sank at the new voice, deep and resonant with command. He turned to see their father alight on the Censura’s platform. The bright gold of his wings emitted a warm light as he strode forward, hand extended.

“Give it to me,” he said in a peremptory tone.

In Valoriel’s presence, Gavriel was a callow youth again, chastised for watching the legions drill when he was supposed to be studying his law books. That small act of rebellion was the farthest he’d ever gone in defiance of his father—until now.

“Did you not hear me?” Valoriel demanded impatiently.

Gavriel’s arm moved of its own accord, surrendering the Rod of Penance. Haniel watched them both, her expression inscrutable again.

“Why are you here, my seventh son?” Valoriel asked. His eyes, green as fern moss, studied Gavriel intently.

“I have come about Alluin Westwind,” he admitted.

His father looked surprised. “The seraphim guard?”

“Yes. His sentence was too harsh. I intend to grant a commutation.”

Valoriel’s expression cooled. “I hoped you wanted to speak of greater matters.” He glanced at his cunning daughter and Gavriel realized that Haniel had long been whispering in his ear.

“You mean the kaldurite,” Gavriel said, trying to hide his disgust.

“We must control the source before this corruption spreads. It is already happening. Even the angels are changing, becoming like their flock. Look at you, Gavriel.”

“I uphold your laws,” he replied warily.

“It is too late to dissemble. You think you love this cypher. Why else would you be here pleading on behalf of her father?”

Pride flared. “Because it is the right thing to do. The sentence was unjust.” He cast a mutinous look at Haniel. “If she can love a witch, I can, too.”

“Careful now,” Valoriel warned. “I am the one to decide such things.”

His mind reeled. His father knew everything—and didn’t care. “Why aren’t you punishing her? How is this tolerated?”

“Leviathan will be a great asset in the days to come.”

“What about Minerva and Travian?” Gavriel demanded. “Do you honestly believe they will allow this coup?”

Valoriel did not appear concerned. “Minerva lives like an anchorite, distant from the workings of the empire.” He gestured at the sea of darkness stretching to the horizon.

“Travian is out there somewhere, gambling and whoring no doubt, but I have not sought his counsel in centuries. He is a child, preoccupied with whatever shiny new bauble he holds in his hand, with no thought beyond gratifying his own desires. It is up to us to preserve the peace.”

“What you describe sounds more like war,” Gavriel protested.

“Then choose a side,” Valoriel growled. “Let us speak of your cypher. Cathrynne Rowan is the most powerful seer in generations. We could use her gift.” He gripped Gavriel’s shoulder. “You may have her as a consort if you persuade her to serve Mount Meru.”

Gavriel stiffened. “She is not a slave to be traded for favors.”

A spasm of irritation crossed Valoriel’s handsome face. “Very well, I shall keep it simple. Do your duty and all will be forgiven. Bend the knee and swear allegiance. I will set you and Haniel above all the others to rule Sion as you see fit.”

To rule.

Long ago, Sion had kings and queens. Some were good, some bad. The last ones were very bad indeed, which is why they’d been violently overthrown and the dynastic system changed to one of popular assemblies.

Yet it was a seductive offer. For a minute, Gavriel’s head spun with the possibilities of limitless power. He could punish the White Foxes for their brutal excesses—and even disband them completely.

He could divert resources to Pota Pras and the countless hardscrabble towns like it. Build schools and decent housing and hospitals. Enforce the ban—widely ignored—on child labor in the mines.

He could end the barbaric practice of cypher infants being taken from their parents.

Perhaps his father was right. The empire needed a firm hand at the tiller. And who was more suited to the task than Gavriel Morningstar?

He looked up and saw Haniel watching him with glittering eyes, a slight smile of triumph on her lips, and Gavriel understood in a flash that the reality would be different.

Valoriel only wanted a henchman to enforce his diktats with an iron fist. By the end, Gavriel would have no honor, no integrity.

Yet for once it wasn’t fear for his reputation that swayed him. It was the millions who would lose what freedoms they had. He knew what Cathyrnne Rowan would say. She had more heart, more soul, more courage than a hundred of his kin.

Haniel had to be stopped. He needed to get his father alone, make him see reason. But now was the not the time.

“I must return to Kirith,” Gavriel said evenly, “to think it over.”

Valoriel looked displeased. “What is there to think about? I will have your answer now.”

His tone was confident, assured. Gavriel would obey as he always did. They might disagree over minor matters, but his son would not dare to say?—

“No.” Gavriel straightened his spine. “This course of action is immoral and ill-advised. I cannot in good conscience be part of it. Nor should you, father.”

Valoriel stared at him, as if he could not quite fathom what he was hearing.

Haniel laughed. “So be it, Light-Bringer. As I warned you, even the highest among us can fall.”

Eight armored seraphim dropped down from the night.

In their hands dangled chains of adamantine, bright as diamond and heavier than lead.

Gavriel spread his wings and leapt for the edge of the platform.

A chain caught his right wing, grinding against the bone.

Another caught the left. He was hurled to the icy stone.

“Your sister warned me that you would rebel against my authority,” Valoriel said with a deep scowl. “I did not want to believe it, but she was right. You have grown arrogant and prideful, Gavriel. Too certain of your own judgment.”

The Rod of Penance pulsed with fey power. Black ley leaked from the tip, curling like smoke in the frigid air. The seraphim seized his hair and dragged him to kneeling.

“Some time in exile will remind you of your place at my feet,” Valoriel continued. “Perhaps after a millennium or two, you will see reason.”

Anger and shock turned to disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. He was Sion’s chief magistrate. An archangel!

“I have the right to a trial,” Gavriel cried, his voice hoarse.

“So you do,” Valoriel agreed. His face was a pale moon in the darkness. “I accuse you of treason and find you guilty.”

He raised the rod. The air thickened. The clouds churned, black and angry. Lightning flashed within their depths. Gavriel’s heart raced with terror, shame, and other nameless emotions. Alluin Westwind must have felt the same as he stared through the portal at the unknown fate awaiting him below.

“What a great disappointment you are,” Valoriel added bitterly.

Gavriel’s gaze lifted to his father. When had his eyes grown so cloudy? His chin so weak?

All of Gavriel’s life, he had revered Valoriel as a paragon of virtue and reason. He didn’t simply worship his father; he had tried to become him. To emulate his example in every way. But now Gavriel saw him clearly—an aging god who had become as morally bankrupt as those he planned to subjugate.

“You will regret this,” he snarled. “That I vow.”

“Your vows mean nothing,” Valoriel retorted.

“Then hear me now, father ,” Gavriel spat. “You corrupt all you touch. You rail against mortals’ greed and ambition while scheming to shed the blood of innocents. You punish angels for loving witches while breeding half-blood nephilim in secret.”

Valoriel looked down at him, lips tight. “I do what I must to preserve order.”

“You do what feeds your own vanity,” Gavriel said with contempt. “Nothing more.”

For an instant, he thought his father would strike him.

But then Valoriel nodded to the seraphim.

A silver gauntlet flashed and white-hot pain exploded along Gavriel’s right shoulder, radiating down his back.

He clenched his jaw to trap the scream, too proud even now to show weakness.

A biting gust of snow stung his eyes as the seraphim dragged him to the edge of the platform.

His right wing dangled useless; the heavy chains of adamantine held his left wing fast.

“I renounce you, Gavriel Light-Bringer,” Valoriel intoned. “I cast you down and strip you of all titles and offices.”

The lights of Mount Meru blurred behind him like jewels cast across the velvet firmament. Haniel stood at their father’s right hand wearing an amused smile.

“Goodbye, brother,” she said sweetly.

He gritted his teeth against the agony. “I’ll be back. You can count on it.”

I’m sorry, Cathrynne , he thought. So sorry ? —

The seraphim hurled him headlong into the abyss.