Chapter Thirty Two...

“They’re mine, aren’t they?” Sypher asked. His voice echoed an unsettling hollowness back at Elda. Cerilla nodded. “You sent us here to retrieve my sword before Cynthia found a way in and took the pieces.”

“If she found them, you would never have learned what the other half of your soul is. Malakai was counting on it remaining a mystery.”

“He knows what I am too?” Sypher asked, the fire in his eyes flickering wildly.

“Please, dear one,” Cerilla begged. “The sword is fixed but your work isn’t done. Touch the bones. Learn the truth.” Elda made a strangled noise and grabbed his wrist to stop him, staring at the small girl in horror.

“You can’t really expect him to do that!” she yelped. “You’re asking him to lay his hands on his own corpse!”

“El.” His tone was soft, defeated. She turned to look up at him, a piece of her heart splintering at the agony and exhaustion in his eyes. Tears welled up and threatened to spill down her cheeks. He flashed a broken, tender smile, sending her sorrow cascading down her face. His whole world was crashing down around him and he was wiping away her tears with his thumb like she was still his biggest concern.

“I don’t want you to see what they want to show you,” she half-sobbed. “You don’t deserve that pain.” The screaming premonition haunted her. All that pent up agony and rage, all the sorrow and fear, all of it was about to pour into Sypher, opening up wounds he never even knew existed. He had so many scars already.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Then don’t let go of my hand,” she begged impulsively, ignoring her instincts and listening instead to her heart. “Let me be there with you, let me see what you see. Lean on me, Sypher.” He took a deep, deep breath, letting it out slowly before nodding. Elda watched him remove his gloves and slip them into his pocket, taking one of her hands in his. They knelt beside his bones together and Sypher pressed the palm of his hand to his own dismembered skull.

An Angel with raven wings bent to place a tender kiss on the forehead of a little girl. She beamed up at him, her eyes the same fiery red as his, dancing with life and laughter. He lifted her above his head, drawing a giggle from her when he tossed her into the air and caught her again. Her wings were the same silky black as his, though here and there, downy silver tufts flecked them like the feathers of a newborn chick. They were still too small to fly with, tucked close to her body and twitching with excitement.

“Daddy, do it again!” she squealed in Angelic, flashing a gap-toothed grin. Sypher chuckled at his daughter and settled her on his shoulders instead, wandering leisurely down a street illuminated by sunlight. The air was warm and balmy, scented by the towering oaks and acacia trees lining the paths. Gold details in the mosaic floors lit up like jewels as they walked, refracting sunbeams across the white moonstone.

All around them was life - bustling, teeming, vibrantlife. Angels flew back and forth, sauntered between buildings, hurried in and out of shops. Many of them stopped to greet Sypher and his child as they made their way to the park in the centre of the city. The youngster smiled and waved at all of them, bubbling with excitement until she was bouncing around on her father’s shoulders, her tiny wings fluttering madly.

“Calm yourself, Ana. If you keep wriggling, I’ll drop you,” he chuckled, shaking chestnut hair out of his eyes and squeezing her little hands.

“I want to see the fish!” Ana announced.

“You can see them soon, sweetheart. We’re almost-”

BOOM.

Sypher’s sentence was lost in the throbbing thunder of a distant explosion, the mountain vibrating beneath his feet. A deafening silence followed, all heads turning towards the gated city entrance. He took Ana down from his shoulders, watching smoke begin to curl towards the skies at the edge of the city.

The unexpected roar of a Wraith pierced the quiet, echoing across Iliria so loudly that it seemed worse than the explosion. A hundred more cries answered, a tidal wave of black bursting from the archway, rising up above buildings and laying waste to anything they came into contact with.

“Daddy?” Ana asked uncertainly, fear making her voice waver.

“It’s alright, Anaita. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He swept her up into his arms and ran, bounding back to their house in search of his sister. He chose not to fly, afraid that it might get the attention of the demons as they began painting the streets with Angel blood.

“Sypher!” A young woman with tawny hair and the same dark wings called out to him when he burst through his front door, leaping up from her seat. She was a teenager, her face still rounded with youth. “What’s happening?”

“Wraiths,” he replied, setting Ana down on the sofa.

“Here? How?” the teenager gasped, one hand flying to her mouth.

“Someone must have let them in. I have to go out there and help, Eris. The Seraphs are the only ones with weapons.” He shot Eris a pleading look. “Keep Ana safe. I’m counting on you to protect her.”

“Be careful, brother. Come back to us alive.”

“I’ll do my best. I love you both.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead once more, breathing in the flowery scent of her chestnut ringlets, then folded his sister into a tight hug.

The girls watched as he called on his dazzling silver armour with a wave of his hand and shouldered open the front door, his sword appearing in his grasp the moment his foot touched the tiles outside. He leapt into the air, scanning for the other soldiers he knew would be mobilising with just as much urgency.

The Wraiths were a writhing black cloud at the far end of the city, swirling and churning around a winged figure at their centre. They seemed to flock to it, baying and cawing as they circled their commander. Sypher set himself on a course straight for their master.

Armour glinted in the sunlight as the rest of the Seraphs engaged with the Wraiths, hacking and slashing their powerful weapons in an effort to stem the overwhelming tide of demons. When one beast was cut down, three more replaced it, each one bigger and more ferocious than the last. Sypher dodged and rolled and sliced through every bird that snapped at him, focussed only on the one controlling them.

He barked orders at his soldiers, watching them form up from the corner of his eye, each one attacking with deadly precision, but one by one, they began to fall beneath the swarm. The sheer numbers were overwhelming, and all around him the screams of the dying played in a chilling soundtrack.

He saw a child running in the streets and cursed, veering off course and angling downwards to try and save them. He was an inch away from grasping the boy’s reaching hand when a shadowy beak pierced through his small torso. The child’s eyes were wide and frightened, a startled gasp escaping him before the life left him and his body was tossed aside like a rag doll.

Sypher howled and hacked the creature to ribbons, screaming curses at the beasts and throwing rage into every swing of his sword. Magic pulsed from his hands, waves of fire and air tearing the feathered beasts to pieces, water pouring down their throats and drowning them while chunks of rock and moonstone shattered, peppering them with shrapnel.

It was futile. The only way to stem the tide of demons was to cut off the head of the snake. Sypher let out one more burst of flame, then turned his attention back to their master. He shot back into the sky, snarling when he found the figure was no longer floating safely amid its cocoon of demons.

He followed the path of the flying creatures, cutting more down as he flew with them to their master. He found his target at the centre of the city, hovering over Lake Atlas. His wings were feathered in ebony, matching the tresses of long, raven hair flowing past his shoulders. Sypher almost fell from the sky when his own brother turned and smiled, teeth sharpened, his green eyes turned darker than sin.

“Malakai!” he roared. “What are you doing?! This is our home!”

“Your home, perhaps,” Malakai shrugged, taking in the death and destruction with undiluted rapture. “Not mine. Not anymore.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was enlightened.” His smile was poisonous, no longer the face of an Angel. “It was nice seeing Ana and Eris again. Ana grew so big and Eris looked just like our mother.” Sypher’s face fell, his heart dropping into his boots. Malakai laughed wickedly. “Don’t worry, brother. I made it quick.” He tossed something silver and shiny to the ground below them. Ana’s locket. “You’ll be joining them soon.”

The air was sucked from Sypher’s lungs, his wings faltering until he landed heavily on his knees in the dirt below. His vision tunnelled, blood rushing in his ears at the realisation that his daughter, his Ana, would never smile again. She’d never laugh, never ask to be thrown into the air, or beg to see the fish in the lake. She wouldn’t go back to school in the morning. She wouldn’t be tucked into bed by him, or throw her arms around his neck and tell him she loved him.

His sister, only fifteen, was also gone. Her life had been snuffed out by her own brother, someone who was supposed to love and protect her, before she’d really had the chance to live it. Her vibrant laughter would never fill the rooms Sypher entered. She wouldn’t leave books she thought he’d like on his nightstand anymore.

Sypher’s world, his life, everything that meant anything, was gone.

The only feeling left to fill the hollow thing that used to be a father, used to be a soldier and a Seraph, a leader of his people, was rage. It burned bitterly in his chest, driving his wings to beat, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

“You were my brother!” he roared, launching himself at the Angel-turned-demon. Every clash of blades brought with it a glimpse of Ana’s smile, her bright eyes, her little wings fluttering with excitement. “You were my family!” Eris curled up in an armchair with a book in her lap, a frown on her face as she fell into the pages of another novel.

Malakai cackled, enjoying the pain and turmoil raining down on the place he’d once called his home. He countered every strike thrown at him, toying with Sypher when his emotions made him sloppy. The solider was a husk of a man, an empty thing running only on the false promise that retribution would ease his crippling pain.

“Killing me won’t bring her back,” Malakai taunted.

"Die!” Sypher raged, his sword moving so fast it blurred. Their blades collided with concussive blasts, the pair trading elbows and knees and head-butts with startling ferocity. They battered and tore at one another until eventually, inevitably, Malakai’s weapon found its way between Sypher’s ribs.

His eyes widened, a choked noise escaping him when the tip burst from his back. Malakai twisted as he pulled it back out, and Sypher dropped out of the sky, his own sword falling from his hand when he hit the dirt with a sickening thwack. His wing crunched beneath him, shattering many of the finer bones. The wound in his chest pumped blood steadily, every heartbeat forcing his life to flow down the front of his armour.

But Sypher was rage, not man. His fury made him stand. It made his broken wings beat, carrying him into the air again with his sword clutched once more between his bloody fingers. Malakai cackled.

“Oh, how tragic,” he tutted. “Won’t you just die with dignity?”

“If I die, I’m taking you with me,” Sypher vowed, his words stilted by the excruciating stinging sensation radiating through him. Malakai snapped his palm and threw Sypher backwards with the air, wrenching the sword from his grip.

The monster bared his teeth in a grimace and shattered the blade, suspending the splinters in the air while Sypher struggled to stay conscious and airborne. Malakai pushed his palms together and the shards shot towards his brother, the hilt piercing his chest right above the first wound, the rest of the blade peppering his arms and legs, one sliver slicing into his throat. Sypher gagged, his body jerking with each impact, but his wings still held him aloft, driven by his fierce intent on revenge.

He lurched towards Malakai and wrapped his arms tightly around him, ignoring the pain of his brother’s sharpened teeth biting into the tendons at his throat and tearing them away, fresh blood leaking down his armour.

They dropped from the sky once more, both of them hitting the dirt heavily. Sypher pooled every last ounce of his power into his fire magic, pushing himself beyond every limit his body had. A white-hot ball centred in his chest, a thousand times more painful than his many wounds, but he clung to the demon through the torture, building and building the magic until he couldn’t contain it anymore.

An inferno hot enough to melt stone burst from him and engulfed Malakai, sizzling and burning the demon until he screamed and writhed. Sypher’s vision faded when his body was consumed by flames, his eyes closing to the sound of the world dying around him.

Sypher was still on his knees, his whole body trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. Elda knelt beside him, a breath stuck in her chest as she tried to process everything she’d just witnessed. A broken sob escaped him, smashing through her stupor.

She caught Sypher when he collapsed, cradling his head against her chest and rocking him gently, holding the shattered pieces of him together while he howled his agony at the dirt. Her own tears were hot on her cheeks, tracking down them in rivulets as she clung to him. She’d never heard a sound like that come from anyone. Elda knew his absolute sorrow would haunt her forever.

The others watched in solemn silence as the legend, the Soul Forge, the Saviour of Valerus, crumbled.

“You were my First Seraph, Sypher,” Cerilla admitted eventually, her head still bowed. “You were an Angel of the highest order, a leader of your people. I loved you dearly. When you died - when all of my Angels died - I was overcome with grief and we had no way to stop Malakai tipping the balance of this world. Aeon wanted us to leave Valerus to its own devices.”

“Why didn’t you?” Julian asked when he realised Sypher was beyond answering her.

“I am the only other Spirit blessed with the power to create. I had the ability to do something that might save this world we love so much,” she explained. “I wanted my Seraph back. I needed someone to fight the evil that has overtaken Malakai. So I kept your soul from moving on, and I created you a new vessel.”

“You should have let me rest,” Sypher whispered, pulling away from Elda to look Cerilla in the eye. "You should have let me die!"