Page 70 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1
SORIEL
T he sky does not part for me. It ruptures.
I tear through it in silent fury, wings outstretched like blades, trailing streaks of silver fire across the sky. The wind should scream around me, but the world holds its breath as if it, too, knows what I’m about to find.
Dark clouds churn, distended with wrath.
Lightning divides the sky in jagged convulsions, illuminating in violent pulses.
The damp air boils with static, electrifying the metal of my armor.
Even the stars suppress their luminescence.
Thunder growls low and endless, not behind me but within me.
I descend like judgment cast from the edge of the world.
The dutiful chains of confinement deterred me from answering the desperate pleas of my charge in time.
Rules. Protocol. Celestial red tape woven tight enough to strangle fate itself.
I knew something was wrong the moment they barred me.
Told me to “observe,” not intervene. A damnable word.
A slap to the face when they told me she wasn’t marked for ascension.
Her suffering wasn’t reason enough to break divine order.
Forced me to wait, even though I felt her suffering like daggers, tearing my insides apart.
I felt the moment her hope buckled and her screams died in his hands.
And still, I was made to wait.
I’m done waiting.
The ground rushes up to meet me as I rapidly descend, slowing only when I see her building. It’s small, quiet, and defiled by unforgivable sin. A structure that once held warmth now reeks of desecration.
I don’t land, I strike.
With a final burst of momentum, I crash through the kitchen window. Glass detonates in a spray of violent glitter. Cabinets rip from the walls, flung like matchsticks. A deafening clatter fills the space—splintered wood, porcelain, and metal rain down around me.
The foul stench of iron and copper assaults my senses first. Underneath the undeniable proof of death, there is a spiritual odor of evil that permeates the wreckage.
A faint glow from the single light of the stove highlights the destruction unleashed this evening.
A suffocating layer of blood saturates the floor, clinging to every surface.
My mind falters, unable to comprehend the carnage laid bare before me.
Darkened crimson coats the shattered remains of cabinets and countertops, leaving behind a visceral image of events.
Countertops drip with congealed blood. A bowl lies fragmented near the sink, streaked with darkened liquids.
Her meal lies in disarray—onions, herbs, and bits of garlic strewn on the floor like offerings interrupted.
I follow the bloody trail across the kitchen floor where the decimation continued.
My breath catches in my throat when I see her.
What’s left of her.
A lifeless body lies twisted and broken, half-consumed by the shadow of the hallway.
She’s been left like discarded trash, a desecration of what should have been sacred.
A delicate glimmer rises from her body, flickering faintly above the ruin like a star fighting to shine, only to be smothered in fog.
Her soul is trying to hold on, fighting long after her last breath was stolen.
My knees hit the ground violently beside her.
Her beautiful red coils sprawl onto the tile.
Blood mats the strands, drying on her cheeks.
Parted slightly, the corners of her mouth and jawline remain stained with the final words she dared to speak.
My gaze drifts downward. One arm stretches toward the fallen shard, just out of reach, frozen in a desperate plea for survival.
The other lies draped protectively over her abdomen, painted in scattered stains of deep purple.
I was supposed to protect her.
My hand trembles as I reach for her, terrified to make contact as if a single touch might shatter what little remains.
For a moment, I hesitate, hovering faintly above her cheek.
A more profound fear takes hold. The thought paralyzes me that even this final moment of tenderness has come too late.
Then my fingers brush her skin, carefully removing the lingering strands of hair to unveil what hides in the wreckage.
She’s cold. Not the chill of sleep or stillness, but the void of absence.
Gone. The soft rose once radiant beneath the skin has faded.
Captivating pools of amber now stare blankly at the ceiling, unblinking and hollow. I reach up slowly and rest two fingers on her lids. My touch is featherlight, reverent. Using the faintest of motions, I draw them shut, granting her peace in death.
I feel her soul, floating weakly below the surface. A fading ember abandoned after the roaring blaze of fire. A cry forms in the back of my throat, quickly choked off before it escapes .
Gently, devotedly, I slide one arm under her shoulders, the other curling around the ruins of her blistered legs.
Bones shift with a grotesque softness, folding where they should not bend, and crumbling under my touch.
I can feel the destruction of her ribcage and the unmistakable annihilation where her chest cavity collapsed due to an unrelenting force.
The overwhelming scent of blood drenches everything, metallic and wrong.
It clings to her hair, her throat, and the tattered clothes adhered to her body.
Every inch is an unavoidable map detailing the pain she endured.
Unimaginable suffering that could have been prevented had they let me save her.
My arms cradle her broken frame in a desperate hope of reversing time. Cooling blood soaks through the soft pieces of my chestpiece, painting my skin the dark crimson of death.
Slowly, I lean forward until our foreheads meet.
Our skin—hers cold, mine burning in sorrow—presses together in quiet reverence.
I let my eyes drift close and breathe her in.
Her scent is buried under copper and death, but I search for it anyway.
I allow my grief to pool in the hollow between us, a wordless offering to what should have been saved.
“This was never meant to be your end,” I murmur, my voice dry and somber. “Forgive me.”
Behind me, my wings rise, slow and solemn.
Silver feathers, now dripping with blood, shimmer with grief in the dim light, a sorrowful halo.
I extend them outward, then sweep them forward, encasing her in a secure embrace—a desperate shroud of sanctuary for a soul desecrated by violence.
She is gone, yet my shield for her remains.