33

~Ali~

I land crouched over the lifeless body, my knife comfortably impaled between two brittle ribs. The thump of his flesh to the floor sirens the other Fallen and they rush inside with weapons raised, cackling and screeching. Their ashen skin blisters and burns, sloughing off in grey and pink sheets as they flood through the guarded entrance with nothing on their mind except my capture.

The effects of the protective sheath encapsulating the church wane as the Fallen enter, each creature slowly sustaining burns of a lesser degree. The small group surround me, pinning me onto what is left of the platform. I desperately pray for another way out, someway that doesn't involve my lonesome self engaging in combat with thirty-odd armed Fallen angels.

The last member of the group enters the church, taking a single step through the door with no more than an irritated red tint to the front of his arms and legs. He takes a leisurely moment to watch the rash fade back to its original sallow hue, grinning darkly at its disappearance. He walks on, his presence alone is enough to part the mob of hungry Fallen, confirming what I initially suspected - this is Kael, the Fallen who ordered around those other weaker souls moments earlier.

I drop to the floor and grip the curved handle protruding from the body, ready to plunge into another victim. But Kael's sinister jeering makes me freeze my attempts.

"No need to prolong this any longer. Stand and face your death with some dignity." Kael stalks forwards, his black, buckled boots dragging across the wood. He looks down at me for a long, mocking moment, the tangy sting of his scent scalding my senses before the cap of his boot roughly kicks my hand away from the hilt of the knife.

"Stand," Kael commands, smugly crossing his arms over his bony ribcage. My body, ridden with knots of malice, is unmoving at his demand. When it is apparent I will not bend to his control, the other Fallen shift uncomfortably and Kael growls at my defiance. A gnarled hand reaches under my chin and jerks me upward, lifting my body clear from the floor. His hand tightens around my face, squeezing until I wonder if my bones will finally give out under the pressure. I grimace, clamping my eyes shut against the constriction, surprised at the strength hidden in his gaunt stature.

He releases me roughly and I drop to the floor, rubbing my throbbing chin and panting heavily. When Kael has me standing before him, my body tucked into the shadows of his height, he smiles with a maw of stoney grey teeth.

"That's better." He leers, lazily looking my body up and down - assessing. My skin itches at the touch of his eyes and I turn my head away, hoping it would stop. "And mildly pretty, isn't she boys?" He howls, turning to face his small group of followers and they titter in return. "For a mortal, anyway," he sneers after considering me for a moment longer.

With his back still turned I seise the opportunity, diving for the dagger and wrenching it from the Fallen's chest with a sickening squelch. I am on my feet again with the blade raised by my ear, hilt pointing forwards. Marbles of blood splatter against the back of my legs as the sanguine fluid drips from the dagger's tip. My other hand lifts, training my aim to the back of Kael's head. Satisfied, I pull my arm back and thrust the blade away from me, blood fanning in a smooth arc as my dagger cleaves the air.

I can't help but smile as the dagger follows its exacted path to my second target. Realisation dawns on the Fallen around us and their expressions morph into various accounts of shock and rage. Kael recognises the quick shift in demeanour and spins towards me just at the wrong moment. Instead of the dagger lodging itself into his spongey brain, the blade impales the lean muscle of his upper arm. He cries out in pain, clutching at the bloody, tender flesh around the wound. Realising what I did, his features harden as he jerks the blade out and throws it to the side.

"Wrong move, human." My face blanches, fully aware of how terribly this scenario has played out as his hand flicks towards me, a silent command. The mob of charred-skinned Fallen slowly circle me, swiping at my flesh with their claws and slicing clean lines with their metal blades. It quickly becomes apparent to me that their intentions are to weaken me with each laceration until I reach the perfect combination of decrepitude yet still breathing.

I dodge as many blows as I can, disarming a few in the process, kicking and lashing out where I can. But sometimes my wild movements cause other cuts to run deeper than they intended, my blood slowly spilling. A hooked claw grazes the skin just below my ear and one of my hands hovers at my throat, the thought of one of these slashes landing just a touch lower sending me into a blind panic.

And that's when I feel it. The chains tangled around my neck - the locket hidden under my shirt. My fingers thread through the silver chain, tugging it off my neck and breaking the clasp. Kael, suddenly unsure about what I am planning bellows over the crowd, desperate to finally get to me.

"What are you waiting for? Get her!" All the focus in the room turns on me and they dash forwards at his command.

Panicked by the sudden movement, I fumble with the locket as I try to flip the latch too quickly. A set of talons clamp around my throat from behind, their pincers like sandpaper sawing at my skin. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as another set of hands grapple with my legs. I am lifted clear from the floor, hitched onto three pairs of shoulders as anther Fallen secures my midsection.

I thrash around ruthlessly, kicking and bucking has hard as I can. I sink my heel into the eye socket of one of my carriers and it is enough to crack the bone, forcing him to release my ankles. I exploit the additional mobility, kicking my legs until I dislodge another pair of arms. With only one Fallen holding my weight, I am dropped to the floor, my locket skittering away from my grasp.

"Play time is over, little girl," one of the Fallen to my side punctuates, throwing himself towards me. Without hesitation, I side roll out of the way, narrowly missing his vice grip as I tumble off the stage, following the locket's descent. My sudden movements alert the horde to attack and they push their way through the crowd to get to me.

But the locket is here and I swipe it from the floor, lifting the latch as the Fallen descend upon me from all angles.

The power of the locket is unleashed and     time                       slows                                               down.

All I can hear are my gasping breaths as I stare into a rainbow cosmos churning inside the locket's metal bowl. Galaxy clusters whirl inside the microcosmic universe, pensile amongst streaks of fiery stars and dark gaseous shadows.

The entire portrayal swirls like a whirlpool, drifting towards the locket's centre; hundreds of pinprick stars collapsing in on themselves as they are swallowed into nonexistence. Three minutes, Thessaly warned, and the tiny universe is my timer.

I flip myself over so my back is to the floor and screech at the grotesque face frozen mere centimetres from my own. His lips are lifted in a snarl, skin is irritated and blistered, puss mid-seeping from a yellow bubble ballooning across his right eye. His hair is sparse and greasy, his sporadic feathers extended as he propels towards me. I scuttle backwards and my head thumps with the stiff, outstretched hands of another frozen Fallen lunging for my legs from the opposite direction. I gulp nervously, completely aware of the impending life waiting to return to their corpses and what could have been made of me if I didn't reach the locket in time.

I squeeze through a gap between the writhing bodies huddled over me, between a pair of arms, over a cauterized chest and through a wall of oily feathers. I free myself from the scrum and take a deep, clean breath once I am back to standing.

Turning back around, I reserve myself a heartbeat to marvel at the dome of Fallen angels diving for the space my body just occupied. Kael remains frozen on the outskirts, an onlooker to his small group of minions as they execute his command. His lips are parted in a shout with his dark, obsidian eyes gleaming triumphantly.

"Ali!" Ethan bursts into the church, taking me into his hands. He looks over my body, touching my face, running his hands down my arms. Although I couldn't imagine anything better than having his hands one me, I brush him off as there are more pressing matters at hand rather than any cuts or bruises I may have sustained. My gentle dismissal frees his attention, which is now firmly focused on the pile of frozen Fallen to my side.

"It's happening in here, too!" Jack exclaims, forcibly peeling his eyes from the frozen mass of bodies to stare at Ethan incredulously.

"Don't worry, I did this," I say in a tone that I hope sounds calming.

"You did this?" Ethan gulps, his attention squarely on me again.

"Time is running out, I'll explain later," I blurt, nervously eyeing the locket cushioned in my palm.

"Where's Jaz?" Jack cries out, looking through the assembly of limbs for Jaz's face.

"Safe," I bite and shove my way back onto the stage. I jump inside the pit without hesitation, the locket growing warmer and heavier in my hand with each passing second. The boys are behind me a moment later but I don't wait for them. I dash towards Jaz and sure enough, she is frozen exactly where I left her. And so is The Book, clenched in her unyielding grip.

"I'll get it." Ethan wriggles The Book of Angels out of her grasp, giving it a final tug free. Jaz's arms remain fixed in the same position, clutching the empty air in front of her chest.

Ethan doesn't notice The Book slipping through the loosened cloths and as he stands, the entire text tumbles from his grasp. Images of the ancient book breaking open on impact, the parched pages crumbling to dust flashes through my mind. I see it all play out before me in slow motion - the falling, the connection with the ground, the smashing, the dust that follows, the death of our angels. So I do the only thing I can think of to save The Book from falling apart - I catch it.

I hear the angels cry out as they shout over each other, but they may as well have been a thousand miles away.

My fingers snatch the naked book from the air only breaths away from hitting the rocky ground. I fall to the floor with it slumped against my chest and I hold it close. A blinding bolt of pain explodes from my chest where it sits and the room pirouettes around me. Warm, velvety fluid leaches from my nose in a thin stream, dribbling across the ridges of my lips. My tongue teases the liquid on my bottom lip and tastes the coppery tang of blood seeping past. The church lurches a final time and I fall into a head-pounding vision.

A sudden warmth drives away the devilish chill of the Fallen's presence indicating to me that I am no longer in the church. Well, my consciousness is no longer beneath the church to be exact. The strange thing is that it never occurred to me visions could hold a physical temperature, yet a mild breeze flutters through the vacuous space, soothing the cool goosebumps back to my soft, buttery skin. There is sunshine, too - no - looking closer I realise I am mistaken. It is the space around me, the very particles of air that glow with its own champagne light.

The air feels weightless around my arms as if gravity is excluded from this place. I imagine myself floating straight off the floor, rising and rising until I am peacefully lost to the universe.

I can feel the endlessness of the area I am suspended in, too, although I cannot decipher a definitive start or finish. I breathe in deeply and my lungs fill with the sweetness of ripened strawberries and perfumed plumeria and balmy summer rain.

A far-away chanting steals my attention and I squint in all directions, trying to locate the source of the angelic melody. From the haze behind me, a crowd of people swathed in long robes begin to materialise, but they are no threat as they swing and dance and sing. I move closer, their movements hypnotising.

As I approach I begin to differentiate the watery silks they are draped in - soft silvers, crisp whites and pale blushes all shimmer along the lithe frames of men and women. Yet their most shocking feature is the vast array of wings sprung open behind their backs - some held close to their bodies, arching behind them as they glide, others smaller and tucked almost completely out of view, some white, some grey or fawn or dappled. Their gentle song strengthens as I near, their wings moving with their bodies like spinning skirts. I stop and lower myself to the floor, close enough to see everything while still remaining mostly obscured by the mist, still unsure if I can be seen in return.

Raised above the small cluster of dancers sit two thrones upon a short set of stairs with a man occupying one and a woman perched on the other. The thrones are constructed in a blitz of arches and spirals carved from a single slab of grey-veined marble. There is a small space between the two thrones, probably just close enough that if they wish, the two could hold hands across the gap. Then something shimmers in my gaze, a soft gleam pulsing in the narrow space. Bodiless, the aura remains inconspicuous but its presence does not go unnoticed.

Pulling my gaze from the shimmering spectre of light, I admire the beauty of the woman balanced upon the throne to the left. Her warm, rosewood hair is effortlessly twisted over her shoulders, spilling out from under a gossamer tiara that appears to be made more from sunlight and beads of dew rather than precious metal and gemstones. Her skin is flushed along her high cheekbones, eyes glittering like two cuts of green tourmaline, projecting something familiar in her gaze. I have never been one to have an eye for fashion, but any dull fool could appreciate the intricacy and gentility of her gown. Even from her seated poise the dress spills across the marble structure like an endless deluge of water. It is a delicate white fabric billowing whichever way the breeze guides it, specks of gold threaded neatly through the dress causing the entire garment to shimmer like the glittering surface of a lake as it moves. A simple leather belt clinches the dress into her tiny waist and the deep but tasteful plunge of the neckline highlights her small, pointed collar bones. Thin gold chains loop around her curved neck, layers of jewelled rings stacked upon her fingers. No doubt is left in my mind that here, I have found a Goddess.

The man to her right is no less of a God than the woman is a Goddess. His hair is cropped short across the sides and left handsomely long across the top, sweeping elegantly across his high brow as the light illuminates the slight golden tones to his skin. His build is similar to Ethan's, maybe holding a little more muscle, but if it wasn't for the cropped hair, I could have said it was the same person. His clothes are simple; a soft white shirt , probably linen by the looks of it, and matching tan trousers. He laughs heartedly and sings merrily, his lady upon the throne throwing her head back in joy. She stares upon her people and he stares only at her.

The Goddess catches his gaze and teases him lightheartedly, raising a slight brow in jest. He grins and shrugs unapologetically, then turns his attention back towards the crowd. As his eyes sweep across the court, I am blinded by a reminder of Ethan as his wide but slightly slanted amazonite eyes pass over me - eyes I know so well that I could pluck them from an army of blue-eyed soldiers.

His attention passes right over me, returning briefly to the woman at his side. With a cheeky grin, he stands from his throne, bows to the shimmering light - which appears to ripple and condense in response - and holds his hand out for his Princess, palm up. Her smile glows, stretching her beauty further. Her long, toned arm reaches for his, her dress spilling down the steps in a golden cascade as she stands.

The moment their fingers brush and hold, a matching pair of dense, white wings spring outwards in a giant display much grander than any other angel before them.

The world around me, real or not, pulses within me like a second heartbeat. Something about being here, the feeling that it creates stirs a sensation that has long  been slumbering in my depths.

Like the dimming of a mood lamp, the light starts to fade, receding around the periphery of my vision until the cold returns. And so does the weight of The Book in my arms.

I wriggle but I am caged. I imagine myself captured in iron cage, hoisted upon the shoulders of the Fallen and I scream, kicking at the metal bars. Someone grunts and I my eyes fly open. A hand strokes the back of my head soothingly, two strong arms engulfing me. When I smell mahogany and warm spices I instantly know where I am but I have no explanation for what happened.

"Ali, you're awake! Are you okay? You stopped breathing!" Ethan holds me close and I sink into his embrace, just because he is there, but also because my Ethan has returned from the callous chasm he fell into last night. At the hurtful reminder of his romantic indifference, I gently pull away. He reaches towards my face instead, a cloth wrapped around his hand to soak up the stream of blood ebbing from my nose. I take the rag from him and dab at it before he can.

Both of their gazes are expectant as I crinkle my nose, testing that nothing more severe than a nosebleed occurred. It feels strong and dry so I begin to explain as best and as quickly as I can - just enough to satisfy them.

"A-A vision. I was in a vision. I think it was in the past?" I speculate, replaying the emotions that ran through me. "Something about it felt... reminiscent." I think back to the dancing angels and resonant songs and passing clouds and twinkling lights. I think of the Prince and the Princess and their happiness. But I don't have time to decipher the meaning of it all, as much as I want to.

And then I look to my lap, at The Book sitting naked across my legs, my bare hands resting upon the parchment cover. The two angels stare, shock inhibiting any muscle movement as they gaze on in utter hysteria. Frankly, Jack looks like he may just faint judging by the uncharacteristically pale cast to his skin - the look of a man who just cheated the claws of death. Ethan is better at covering his shock, yet something in his eyes doesn't look as stunned as I imagine it should have.

And then I understand what is happening, completely delayed and suddenly afraid of what I have done - I (a human) am holding The Book of Angels with my uncovered skin. As if jolted into action, I push The Book off my lap and scuttle backwards. I wait for the fire and ashes and violent self destruction, but nothing comes and The Book sits obediently on the floor, waiting to be picked up again.

My hands muffle a chocking gasp.

"Wh-wha-what?" Tears well behind my eyes. "I didn't damage it!" I yelp, utterly terrified. The angels stare at me incredulously, assessing me in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

I glance at the locket swinging around my wrist to take my attention away from their silence, tracking the sinking movements of the galaxies.

Jack rakes a hand painfully through his hair, tugging his features upwards from the force, stretching his panic out across his face. Ethan starts mumbling inaudibly and they begin to parry words, compare plans. They start formulating a strategy as if we have any time at all for contemplating battle plans.

I look around the dark corners of the basement, up to the cylinder of sunlight trickling from the hole, then down to The Book of Angels lying in a heap amongst the dust and pepperings of glass. I zero in on the book, helplessly drawn to its magnetism and can feel the familiar tug in the pit of my stomach. A hum wanders leisurely across my finger tips, swirling at my knuckles and climbing up the lines of my veins. It ripples over my shoulders, gathering at the base of my neck before crashing outwards like a shock wave through the entirety of my body. For a reason I fear I shall never understand, I know what I have to do.

"Guys," I start soberly but my words fall on deaf ears as they continue their discussion. "Guys!" I shout, this time snagging their attention. I stare each one down in turn, daring them to contradict what I am about to say. Understanding my seriousness, they settle for a moment to listen. "Time is almost up, so just listen. This will sound crazy, but if you have ever trusted me even just a little bit, please hear me out." I shuffle on the spot, their concentration on me unwavering now. "I have been having more visions lately. Dreams." I clarify. "I think I know what to do. I know how to open the book," I breathe heavily.

Jack doesn't hesitate in his rebuttal. "I know what you are going to say and absolutely no. We can't risk The Book's safety by you touching it again!"

"Exactly!" I exclaim excitedly, matching his conviction. "'Again'! I have touched the book before - yes, by accident - but I have held it. And it didn't burn, Jack," I plead. "I don't know how - or why, even - it didn't burn." A silence ensues and Jack seems incredulous that I'm even humouring the idea. "Ethan...?" I beg quietly, turning my desperation onto him. His gaze lifts from the floor and settles heavily on me. I hold his stare and with all my last efforts, wordlessly plead with my angel.

His focus shifts to the floor again. Or more like the to The Book displayed on the floor. He takes his time formulating an answer, all the while leaving me leaning on my toes and holding my breath in nervous anticipation as the biggest battle of all clashes inside his head.

"I trust you, Ali." He pauses and opens his mouth, as if a 'but' is going to ensue, but his lips quickly squeeze into a fine line instead. "I trust you," he whispers. And in his eyes I know he does. Jack groans and kicks at the floor in irritation. A rock hurtles through the darkness, crashing into a distant pillar. "Enough, Jack!" Ethan snaps at his tantrum. "As Prince of the Heavens -"

"That's just it, Ethan! You aren't Prince of the Heavens anymore!" Jack bursts out unexpectedly. I recoil at the harsh decibel of his voice. "You retired from your position! Except this time it won't be a title you will lose if she screws this up - it'll be your life!"

The two angels lock into a verbal attack, slicing with each word. They are blind in their fury, flailing their arms and puffing red in the face. With no time for their childish antics, I take the moment of distraction to crouch to the floor, reaching out for The Book in the darkness.

"Don't you even think about disrespecting Ali like that!" Ethan seethes. A thick vein pulses along his temple. "Think about it again and you will deeply regret it."

"Listen here," Jack spits and begins another tangent of inconsequential argument, but I tune them out and focus all my senses on the matter at hand.

My finger tips brush the gravel and pebbles and glass until I feel the roughness of The Book's leather casing. I slide it towards me and lift it into my waiting hands, while the boys continue bickering, utterly oblivious to what I have just done - again. If it was another place, another time, I would almost call it comical.

I stand with The Book in arms, holding it to my chest as I figure out what to do next. Before I can decide, a soft blue pulse of light seeps from the creases of the pages. My hands sparkle with the spilling light as my neck hums lovingly. And do know what to do next so I whisper the unbinding words before anyone can stop me.

"Redde perditum angelus," my lips echo into the shadows. The cover quakes and as if I was barrelled by a high speed truck, my body is flung by an unseen energy across the room until I crash into a supporting pillar and crumple to the floor. Through my watery gaze, The Book blazes blue light like a wildfire where I dropped it.

The din of argument ceases and the attention has been divided between the luminous book and my crumpled body wrapped around a pillar. Ethan is over to me faster than humanly possible, but I have already pushed myself into a sitting position, holding my throbbing head with one of my grazed hands.

Ethan coos over me while Jack cries out a selection of profanities, completely at a loss about what is currently occurring. But for once Ethan is not at the centre of my mind as I focus on the sweetness in the air, the lightness to my body, the receding shadows - all acknowledging the presence of The Book of Angels.

"I opened it." And even though I haven't tested the cover, I know I have.

"What?" They sputter in unison. Ethan pulls me to a stand and I wobble momentarily on my legs. Apart from a sting in my ankle when I walk, I am unscathed.

This time when I approach The Book, Jack remains silent. My chipped nails rake over the cover and the hard shell swings open. A title page hand written in devastatingly gorgeous calligraphy is the first page of The Book.

The Book of Angels

A registry of The Throne's Kingdom

(Rudimentary and exclusive copy)

Authored by, published by and eternally owned by The Throne

I turn the brittle page, delicate as a tattered butterfly's wing as it falls open, baring itself to me. Columns upon columns of thousands of names swirl in a mass of delicate black ink, neatly organised by ranking and duty with Ethan's name at the top:

Rank 1: Prince of the Heavens - Ethan J. Hamon.

Beside his name, inscribed in faint ink, barely perceptible to the eye is Angelina's reading similarly to Ethan's:

Rank 1: Princess of the Heavens - Angelina B. Hamon.

The faded ink of her name speaks loudly for past events, although I insensitively wonder why it is still documented here at all.

Then my eye is drawn to the beast among the beauty. Hidden amongst the effortless flow of inked letters lay corroded names who's ink has dripped and smeared across the paper. Mesmerised by the grotesque lettering, I run my fingers over the first jagged name; Morax Valac. Like unset ink, the name smudges under my finger and what remains is a dark blemish staining the page. The name Morax Valac has been erased.

"What did you do?" Jack panics, leaning in to better look at my destruction. He fingers the dark stain worriedly, trying to gather the ink back into place but the charcoal bruise does not move again.

"No, I think... I think this is good!" Ethan cries joyfully, excited vigour restored to his body. He slides to a seated position beside me, leaning over passionately. "The jagged names? They're the Fallen! See, Jack? Here is Berreth and Ipos and Lillith and Apollyon! They all fell. Ali is erasing their names from The Book and if they are not documented in The Book of Angels then..." He trails off, rubbing a finger over Apollyon's name and negating it. We finish the rest of his sentence ourselves; then they cease to exist.

Curiously Jack takes his finger and swipes over Lillith's name with brashness. Surprisingly, her name remains in tact. He wipes again and again, rubbing furiously until I fear the page may tear under his frustration.

"Here, let me," I say, gently guiding his hand away from the page. I ghost my finger over Lillith's name and immediately the letters pool into a dark line of illegible ink.

"Strange," Ethan muses. "But not a matter to contemplate now. Jack, I suggest you begin to hold off the Fallen upstairs while Ali and I try to erase as many names as we can before times runs out. The good thing is, it should take the other Fallen outside some time to find us." I continue swiping away as many Fallen names as I can, diligently avoiding the names of the angels. Sweat beads along my forehead as I feel time disappearing.

I pick up the locket. The entire cosmos has been squashed into a pinpoint in the centre, brightening into a single bright super nova before collapsing into a black hole, completely draining the locket's power.

"And that's our time up," I announce, blotting out another Fallen name.

A thundering sounds up stairs and Kael roars over the fray. Jack doesn't hesitate as he flies out of the hole, sharpened weapons raised. The rumble of footsteps bound over our heads, metal weapons rattling and the slashing of wings ringing dangerously in the air.

Jaz animates again and her screech is drowned by the commotion rumbling above our heads. Particulates shower us from between the slats of floor boarding and I shield my face from the falling shards. Jaz winces against the sharp dust, her screams morphing into a dry cough.

When the air clears, she expertly holds her composure as she sees Ethan and I sitting in the darkness with The Book of Angels open between our laps, swiping at the names. Credit to her because from her perspective I assume Ethan and I would have materialised from thin air, The Book now several paces away from her rather than in her grasp and open.

She wanders over, barks out a baffled laugh and takes a seat beside us, watching as we hurriedly clear names from the pages, leaving those in pristine calligraphy untouched.

Soon enough, we have eaten our way through over half of the book and Ethan was more than happy to snuff out Lucifer's name, swiping with more conviction than the rest. But Ethan pauses, wavering over the name Zagan Shax as I continue searching and swiping, searching and swiping. Three more names gone and Ethan is still unmoving, his hand minutely quaking.

"Ethan?" I mumble, receiving no response. I rest my hand over his shoulder, my touch seeming to lift his trance. "Are you okay?" I whisper, rubbing small circles across his bunched muscles.

"Oh, yes, yes. It's nothing." But his tone portrays anything but. He flicks the name away with a hesitant clip, a sad note in his glassy eyes.

"Hey," I coo softly and lift his chin to look at me, tears brimming unapologetically in his red rimmed eyes. "Hey..." My thumb skims over his cheekbone, catching a rogue tear. My finger comes away grey with sawdust, a fine line of clean skin glowing across his cheek in the dim light. He leans into my touch, closing his eyes and squeezing out another tear. The sight breaks my heart all over again.

"These were friends. All of these angels I once cared for, befriended them. Killing them like this," he looks to the dark ink smudged over his finger tips, "or driving a knife through their hearts? Black or red on my hands, there is no difference."

"I'm sorry you are doing this," my chest tightens for the pain he is feeling. "You don't have to, you know - do this, I mean. I can handle it on my own, we are almost finished anyway." Even though the weight of all these lives will always live with me, I would take that burden in a heartbeat if it meant saving Ethan from the guilt of their deaths.

"Never." The suddenness of his words has me recoiling. "If this is what it means to have you safe, nothing will stop me." His fingers wrap around my hand against his shoulder and he tightens his grip.

Jaz's screech shatters our moment of tenderness. Two bodies hurtle through the hole in a blur of sharp wings and shining daggers. They land harshly, dust rising around them in a fog. The two writher on the floor in a flurry of blades and punches, grunting as they wrestle across the ground. Jack takes his opponents dagger and throws it across the room, disarming him.

Jack's glacial wings are easy to identify as he straddles the Fallen beneath him, driving punches into the man's face, trying to slice his flesh with his blade. But The Fallen is quick and finds leverage under Jack's body, twisting his legs and pushing. He rolls away from Jack and kicks him across the jaw, forcing him to drop his blade. Jack recoils and in his moment of vulnerability, the Fallen lunges, switching positions with Jack and pinning him to the ground with his fists. Blood flows from the corner of Jack's mouth like a fire trail as he blindly gropes for his long dagger. The Fallen kicks it away into the darkness and it skitters with a metallic ring.

The Fallen's back is to me, his face unidentifiable as he thrashes. Jack lifts his hands to protect his face but finds a break in the regularity of his assault, landing his fist into the Fallen's nose. He slides off of Jack, clutching the gushing blood and I catch a glimpse of his twisted face in the light. Kael.

"Find his name!" Jack bellows, spittle and blood spraying from his lips as Kael pushes himself back up.

Jack matches his stance and they begin circling each other again, striking at each opportune moment. Jack spins and kicks Kael across the jaw, sending the Fallen angel soaring through the air. Kael lands with an outcry, his mottled wings crunching awkwardly behind his back. Jack launches forwards and presses a foot into Kael's chest, crushing him into the floor. Kael draws in a shuddering breath, then gurgles on a mouthful of blood before it overflows, leeching from the corners of his mouth in a putrid, black liquid.

Ethan reaches into his jacket and unsheathes two curved daggers - they ring with a deadly gleam as they are drawn. The Book is heaped onto my lap and Ethan glides towards the fight.

Too afraid to wait another moment, I drop my attention to The Book and rush through the last pages as if they were on fire. Flicking through another page, then another and another, I begin to panic when I don't see Kael's name, wondering if I overlooked it in my frenzy.

A scream. My eyes are helplessly drawn to the sound wondering which of the angels were injured. Thankfully, it is Kael on the floor groping at his leg, one of Ethan's bowed knives delved into the meaty flesh of his thigh. Jaz turns her head from the sight, greening at her cheeks.

But I keep searching, flipping harshly to the last page, willing for his name to finally appear as I scrutinise the last column of names. Kael is standing again and rounds the blade out from his thigh, turning the arched dagger onto the angels. Dull thuds of skin on skin combat and grinding metal presses heavily on my ears, reminding me of everything we have to lose if I do not find his name in time.

And then I find it printed in rotten, barely legible scripture. Placing my forefinger over Kael's scrawled name, I look to him for a final time - upon a life that will live past no longer than a few more seconds. Kael takes the dagger and crouches, swiping Jack's legs out from under him. Unprepared, Jack falls with a grunt. In the moments Jack is on the floor, Kael feigns a righthand attack on Ethan who diligently goes to block. Midway through his strike, Kael deftly changes the knife's trajectory, aiming for Ethan's now exposed side. The metal edge pierces Ethan's shirt and draws the first drops of blood, rearing back and aiming to slice deeper -

- I sweep my finger over the page.

Kael's body disintegrates into a cloud of grey ashes as the tip of the dagger burrows into Ethan's oblique for a second and final time. A thin line of blood wells from the shallow slash as Kael's ashes settle to the floor like forgotten dust.

For a moment there is just heavy breathing and stillness. I peer at the locket just to make sure that time hasn't frozen for a second time. But of course it hasn't, it is just the silence of a settled contest.

In the minutes that follow, Jaz helps the angels attend to their most serious wounds, wrapping them in ripped pieces of cloth as best as she can. Meanwhile, I go back to the final pages I skipped over, erasing the last of the Fallen names until none are documented any longer.

The boys escape the pit first, dragging themselves out, then lean back in to lift us out. I carry The Book out with me then hand over the responsibility to Jack. Jaz and I look across to each other and smile giddily with watery eyes as we embrace victoriously. Happiness explodes like an overblown balloon between us.

And then Ethan is beside me, smiling so genuinely and with just the right amount of unexpected shyness that I find myself falling into his arms, unashamed to obliterate the mental veil I created. He holds me in turn, lifting my weight clear from the floor and spinning circles in elation. All of his emotions rush back inside me, pulling me into his hurricane of remorse and affection and concern and desire. I push my own feelings back, matching each of his beat for beat.

"Ali, I know what I said earlier -"

"No, please." I interrupt. "Just let me enjoy this," I beg and fall deeper into his arms not wanting to entertain the multiple ways he could finish that sentence.

"- were all lies," he finishes nonetheless. I freeze in his hold and push myself to back onto my own two feet. Surely this can't be true.

But it is true, his mind echoes in my own. "What I have to say can't wait. I was scared last night - outright terrified. I said some selfish things that I hoped would push you away because I was afraid of the way I was feeling again; emotions I thought I was no longer capable of. Don't you see?" He laughs nervously, stepping close until we are chest to chest. He finds my hands and threads our fingers. The room tilts under my feet - from surprise I tell myself - so I lean further into Ethan to steady the rocking motions. I blink through my pulsing headache and force myself to listen. "I love you!"

The world turns white and I collapse.