Page 47 of Wings of Valor (Silver City University #4)

A s the light fades, every angel around me stands still.

The demons who didn’t burn up in the blast halt their attacks. The Fallen angels who sided with them lower their weapons.

It’s like the entire world pauses.

Auriel is dead.

Dead.

I glance once more at the broken statue of Auriel’s body, still not quite believing it.

“It is done,” Remiel says. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me directly since he began chanting.

He kneels over Auriel’s broken form, his lips moving with silent words I can’t piece together, then he picks up the flame-tipped staff.

He looks strange holding onto it, his book still held in the opposite hand.

Mentally, I send out a message to my friends.

Auriel is dead.

The demons must realize this too, because half of them hop in the sky and take off without a second glance.

The others turn to us, ready to fight once more, but with half of their survivors having disbanded, the army around me makes short work of them.

Some they kill, some they capture for questioning.

They do the same with the Pure and Fallen angels who were on the wrong side of this war.

“I’ll need to question them,” Remiel tells me, as if sensing my thoughts. “I should be able to tell who acted purely under Auriel’s influence versus those who chose to take up arms against their fellow angels of their own free will.”

The battle might be over, but the work is only just beginning.

I turn and catch a glimpse of Castiel’s unmoving form. My legs move on their own until I’m crouching down beside him. Isadora is there, holding his hand. If my powers could heal Zeke’s wing, maybe I could do something there.

Digging deep, I coax my power forward, willing it to enter Castiel’s wound and save him. Please. Please save him. Tears fall freely as I stare at him, watching as the hole in his chest glows with pure sunlight. The light is far too soft, too dull.

“You did it,” he rasps, a smile tilting his bloodstained lips.

A sob tears up my throat at the pride I see in his eyes. “But I wasn’t quick enough.”

“Hush now,” he says, placing his free hand on mine. “You did good, Miss Hayliel. This old man is fortunate to have had the chance to get to know you.”

“There has to be a way,” I whisper, desperation clawing at me.

“What’s going on?” Zeke’s voice comes from behind me, causing the tears to fall even harder.

“Auriel got him with a blade,” Isadora tells Zeke, Raph, Theo and Mira as they crowd around Castiel’s form.

“I tried using my powers, hoping I could help him like I did with your wing.” It has to work. Then I see what Zeke just dropped on the ground beside me. His severed wing. I meet his eyes and find nothing but love there. “But how?”

“With all things, there are limits,” Remiel says as he approaches with Phiel.

“Thank you … for the privilege,” Castiel tells me, his voice weak, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.

“Please don’t go,” I whisper through the pain in my chest.

We must have used up all our miracles for the day, because a few minutes later, his eyes shut and they don’t open again.

A fresh wave of guilt and sorrow damn near drowns me. He died because Auriel sensed he meant something to me. If Castiel had never been kind to me, if he’d stayed away, maybe he’d be alive right now.

Someone pulls me up, Raphael, I think, and I burrow my head into his chest. “Are you injured?”

“Nothing that won’t heal.” He presses a kiss to my head.

“I hope you didn’t get attached to his perfectly sculpted chest,” Theo says, his tone full of false light. “That cut is gonna scar.”

Pulling back, I glance down at Raphael and really look at him for the first time. His pants are covered in blood, and there, on his chest, is a thin line crusted with blood. When I look up at him, he’s grinning at Theo.

“You’re one to talk. Look at your cheek.”

“I can try…” I say, then drop it when I sense how empty my power reserves are.

“It’s alright, firefly,” Theo says.

Zeke rubs a thumb against my cheek, wiping away my tears. “It gives them character.”

Laughter tumbles up from my throat that quickly turns into a sob as I glance back down at Castiel’s body.

“Don’t cry,” Phiel says. “He died defending the city he loves, which is exactly how he would have wanted to go.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. There will be time to break down later. Right now, there’s still work to do.

“Have you heard from your father?” I ask Zeke when I open my eyes.

He nods. “He’s with Briathos. They’ve cleared out all remaining demons in the district, but now they’re trying to find Malik. Briathos saw him with a woman not too long ago, but the building they went into collapsed.”

So many questions flood my mind at once.

Why did half the demons leave?

What was Auriel offering them to make them fight?

What was Malik doing in the Fallen district, and who was the girl?

I don’t think I’ll get any answers right now, so all I say is, “We should help them and the wounded.”

“If it’s alright with you,” Isadora says to Remiel, who still hasn’t left my side. “I’d like to bring Castiel to the sanctuary and prepare him.”

My eyes prick, hot with the promise of tears, but I hold them back. Later.

“Of course. I’ve already notified the guards to keep the gates open.” He turns to me then, eyes soft. “It may not feel like it right now, but you saved the city. We can handle the wounded, if you want to accompany Castiel’s body.”

I spare another glance at Castiel’s unmoving form. As much as I want to, I’m afraid. This grief feels too big, too suffocating. I’m worried if I let it in, I might never find my way out. “I can do more good out here, but Isadora, please let me know where he is, so I can see him after.”

She offers me a sad smile, and then she and Phiel grab Castiel’s body and leave with Remiel.

Raphael, Theo, Zeke, Mira, and I walk in silence toward the ruins of the Fallen district.

The damage here is extensive. Irreparable.

Which is good, I think. Going forward, we will no longer sequester Fallen angels away from society.

This area can go back to what it once was.

A place for guild lieutenants and their families to live—except now it’ll be for all angels regardless of wing color or background.

Hopefully, the house Zeke grew up in remains intact. With so many memories of his mother there, I’d hate for him to lose anything more in this war.

“Bombs?” Raphael asks as we grow closer to the decimated brick that once was a wall. Chunks of it lie scattered on the ground.

Zeke nods. “But I don’t see any blade shards, so they must have just been normal ones.”

“That’s good. I hope they were destroyed in the bunker,” Theo says as we step into the throng of moving bodies. Time passes in a blur as we busy ourselves in the search for wounded angels.

Malik checks in from the sanctuary after rushing another angel there for healing, and I’m relieved that another professor isn’t dead because of me. I know my friends would tell me it’s not my fault, and maybe someday I’ll believe them, but not today.

So instead, I focus on making myself useful by healing as many angels as my power supply will allow. Sweat coats my skin, but still I don’t stop until there’s no one left. We head back to the sanctuary, with Raphael and Theo helping Zeke. He doesn’t look nearly as frustrated as I feel.

Later, I’ll have time to mourn. For Castiel. For the other dead angels. For Zeke’s wing.

I tried to save everyone, and I failed.

It’s going to be a long road to recovery for all of us, but at least now the city can heal.

Maybe someday I will, too.