Celestial Wars Ch. 03

"Be quiet Seraphim," Jon said in a loud, furious voice. "He doesn't need to win. He just needs to last another ten minutes."

***

Devnik

Black damn.

He was good. He moved well. He didn't waste more power than he needed to. His spells were ingenious and hard to read. He'd scored two hits on me...and all I'd manage to strike was a tree and empty air.

We're right here Master... came the dry, laughing whisper of Destruction. Michael would look wonderful dressed in black fire...use us"

No.

I couldn't use Destruction. That would change the nature of our battle. Right now, we were both testing the other. Using my black flames would constitute a lethal attack, and I didn't want to escalate things when I just needed to stall for a bit longer.

Then I heard Jon's voice...just barely audible above the magic crackling amongst the garden.

"He doesn't need to win," Jon said, in what must have been a yell, "He just needs to last another ten minutes."

Michael's eyes narrowed in confusion, and I knew he had heard.

Shit.

Favorite human or not, Jon was going to feel the full weight of my displeasure for that slip.

Thinking quickly, in an attempt to distract the angel from analyzing my idiot servant's words, I drew both my hands back, and flung three consecutive waves of bright red sparks at Michael. The arch-angel didn't even blink in surprise, and he was already in motion. He dodge the first by ducking underneath it, the second by jumping over it.

However, as the third one approached, I anticipated how he would attempt to dodge...by moving to the side with his dominant foot.

As Michael shifted his weight to his right foot...a snarled tree root erupted from the ground in a spray of earth and bedrock. Like a snake, the wood of the root coiled itself around Michael's foot, and prevented him from sidestepping.

The blast caught him in the stomach. I watched the breath whoosh out of the arch-angel as his face scrunched in pain and surprise. The force from the spell would have sent him flying, but the root around his ankle pulled him up short, and he jerked to a rough stop before landing on the ground.

He wasn't down for long.

A field of blue shimmered into life around Michael as he threw up a magical barrier. The follow up spell that I had already cast at him rebounded off his shield and set a rose bush on fire.

The angel sat up, and ripped the root from his leg like it was made of old parchment. He rose steadily to his feet and massaged his stomach. The white tunic that he was wearing was slightly blackened from my spell.

Michael let his barrier spell die as he stared at me.

"The Dark have no command over the trees and plants of Creation," Michael said plainly. "How did you..." The angel trailed off as he began casting his gaze over the manor grounds.

He inhaled deeply...then nodded.

"These plants were grown in Hell," he said. His mouth turned down into a frown as he bent down and pulled a blade of grass from the ground.

"This place is your Crossing," Michael said, as he dropped the grass in his hand. "Why have you lured me here Demon? You risk much by revealing this place."

I smiled, perhaps he had forgotten Jon's mistake.

"I wanted to show you my garden," I said as I made an expansive gesture with both arms. "I find it so hard to get an honest opinion about my roses from the servants."

The arch-angel sighed. He looked sad, and tired.

"What do you hope to gain from all of this Demon?" he said. "I heard a man inside the house claim that you were stalling me. Do you wait for reinforcements?"

I decided not to answer. I lowered myself back down into my casting stance.

"Has all of this been an attempt to kill me?" Michael asked "I can't think of anything..." He trailed off suddenly, his eyes widening as his face alit with shock and frustration.

"No," he said slowly... "This is a distraction!" He yelled, his voice having lost its calm. "Curses, the monastery!"

The Arch-Angel turned. Enormous marble white wings erupted from his back in a flurry of blue sparks. With a speed I had rarely seen, Michael was already tearing down the pathway toward the entrance before I could take a breath.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes hurriedly and threw my concentration toward the Working I needed to perform.

Red lighting exploded from my palm as I raised it up towards the sky. Power rushed from my body as I poured my will into my earthly domain.

My domain responded...and the earth shuddered as my Crossing awoke.

Where once the Irish landscape had surrounded the grounds to my manor house...now suddenly there was nothing but an ever expanding blackness. The surrounding trees outside the walls of my property were gone...as were the subtle sounds of the nearby city. Despite the fact that there was nothing but darkness where the sky used to be...if one were to look around at the garden...one would think the sun still hung overhead.

I had done it.

I lowered my hand wearily and looked to see if I had been in time to catch Michael.

At the very edge of the grounds Michael had stopped. He was floating in the air...looking out into the never ending blackness where the mortal world used to be.

And for a moment...everything was still and hushed...as we stood in a world straddled between Creation and Hell.

Chapter 17

The Prince of Destruction

I said the words, and the world fell away.

The Demon appeared, and asked me to stay.

He said Hell was near, he could show me the way.

But I ran and ran, fearing the price I'd pay

-A strange poem entitled 'Winnowing'

~

-Daniel-

I was sitting with my back to one of the black stone walls. My sword was in my lap, and my mind was focused as I strained my supernaturally enhanced hearing, trying to catch the sound of Michael and Devnikolus on the surface.

Vraiel was tense and angry in the back of my head.

"I can't tell who is winning," he said.

I ran my fingers down the length of my sword. Over the years, I've found that this action calms us both.

"You said that there was no chance of Devnikolus defeating Michael," I said. I tried to pitch my voice in a low and soothing tone, but I was nervous as well, and Vraiel wasn't fooled. We sat in silence. Nothing moved in the underground room except for the faint blue glittering of our light spell.

A tiny red spark jumped across the far wall, directly across from me.

I blinked. Thinking that I had imagined it.

I opened my mouth, about to ask Vraiel if he had seen anything, when an explosion of Demonic magic thundered into life.

Harsh runes, written in the jagged lines of Hell's language appeared in the four corners of the wall. The four runes began to grow across the wall in sharp lines... the way ice cracks upon a frozen lake. They glowed a deep, pulsing red as they wove themselves into a great pattern.

"I don't believe it," Vraiel uttered in my mind. "This...this cannot be."

The magic symbols continued to dance across the wall. They swirled and curled in a frighteningly complex pattern. Then, like a bolt slipping onto a latch, the demonic runes halted with a thud.

Before me, the red lines of power had settled and cooled into the shape of an ornate double door. Above the twin doors lay an arch-way, and within that arch, were words:

"The Broken Gardens," I whispered, as I read.

Instinctively, my legs and arms folded in front of me as a feeble, childlike attempt at protection.

Insidious power, like none I had ever felt, emanated from that door. Muffled voices seemed to slip from the seams of the stone.

"Vraiel?" I asked, as my voice trembled, "What is that?"

The doors creaked open slightly, and I couldn't help but gaze within.

"It is a Crossing," Vraiel said. "We sit at the threshold of hell."

-Alarial-

Jon had his hands over his eyes. When we had all realized that Michael had heard him, a shudder had run through the butler's body that I had thought might make his knees give out.

He had remained standing, but his shoulders had sagged, and his hand hadn't left his face.

"I'm such a fool..." Jon muttered to himself. "He's going to punish me for decades for this..."

I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the window, where something I had never envisioned in my wildest imagination was occurring.

The world had disappeared.

Well...not all of the world...just well...most of it.

Outside of the manor grounds, the rest of Ireland seemed to have...disappeared.

Instead, there was nothing but a frightening black space. I hadn't realized my love could do something like this. What had happened?

My eyes flicked toward Devnik. The red column of magic coming from his palm had thinned, and then guttered out. The spell was apparently over. My Dark God lowered his hand hesitantly. I couldn't quite see from so far away...but it looked like his hand had blackened...as if burned by his own spell.

I twisted around on my precarious perch on the side of the bathtub.

"Do either of you know what just happened?" I whispered. "Everything has gone all...empty... outside."

Cariel didn't answer. Her legs were drawn up to her chest. Her slight pale body was shaking gently with tiny tremors. Tears were flowing freely down her face. Her eyes were closed tight.

"He had to trap him," Jon said as he dragged his hand down his face. "Michael wasn't here for long enough, so Devnik had to prevent him from escaping and ruining Lucifer's plans."

Cariel's silent tears hitched at that...and her silent crying turned into audible sobs.

"But what did he do Jon?" I asked loudly, all thoughts of whispering forgotten.

Jon looked at me. His face was too white and his brown eyes had unshed tears lingering within.

"He opened his Crossing," Jon said. "We are in a realm in between Hell and the real world called 'The Winnowing.'"

I stared at him blankly.

Jon gave me a sad smile.

"When the Prince decides the time is right...this realm will dissolve...and every sentient being within not of the Dark will be given a choice. They can choose to resist the call of Hell and return to Earth...or they can allow themselves to be sucked into Devnikolus's realm."

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

***

-Devnik-

I smiled to myself.

I had managed to drag my entire mortal domain into the Winnowing Realm.

Orias had told me it was possible, if worse came to worse, but I hadn't really believed him. Winnowing is the realm a greater demon will take a mortal if it is believed that the mortal will be a boon to the Dark.

If the mortal accepts, he will pass into Hell, where Hell will corrupt them into one of the Dark.

I chuckled lightly to myself. I wondered if Michael would be interested.

Before I could think of an appropriate taunt to yell at the arch-angel, I was distracted by a sharp sensation in my hand.

I looked down.

Dark, shadowy flames were bubbling out of the hand I had cast the Working with.

My human hand had shattered. Already, fingers composed of pure Destruction were attempting to form to replace my lost appendage.

I tried to focus my will on creating another hand before any more of my true form manifested itself.

"DEMON!" Roared Michael at the outskirts of the manor gardens.

I winced as the arch-angel's voice shattered my concentration. His voice seemed to vibrate the very earth.

He sounded angry.

In truth, I deserved his anger. I doubted anyone else in the history of Creation was bold enough, and stupid enough, to trap Lord Michael the Valiant in Winnowing.

But it was just for five minutes. Then, I would slip back down to my realm. I had been absent for a long time.

Soon, I would finally be able to rest.

I looked up from my broken hand.

Michael was standing right in front of me.

I hadn't seen him move...hadn't heard him move.

His eyes were inches from mine. They were the dark silver of a sky in a storm.

"Do you know what you've done?" Michael asked. All his rage seemed to be gone. Now, all I could detect from him was sorrow.

"Friar Ferdinand's book was nearly complete. It would have changed lives."

I opened my mouth to respond. I didn't know what I would say.

His fist struck me in the stomach. I'm suddenly doubled over, and in pain.

Coughing, I tried to step back.

Michael reached out and grabbed me by my hair and hurled me away. I strike the ground, hard. Tears gathered in my eyes and I have to blink them away.

I look up and see him standing over me, his face a mask of sadness...but not mercy.

My nose broke as the heel of his hand crushed my face. Black ichor dribbled out of my mouth and covered my chin and the grass beneath me.

My body throbbed, threatening to come apart.

"Men would have read his book and known the Lord's love," Michael said, as he drew back his hand for another blow.

I tried to collapse into magic and flee.

"Halt," Michael said in the language of the Light.

Blue lighting crackled down my body. The pain was unbelievable. It had been eons since I had felt this kind of pain.

The whole of my arm shattered, and the inky black fire of Destruction began to stream out.

'Master?' Came the dry questioning whisper of Destruction.

The flames wanted to know if I would use them.

Michael's hand sparked as a new spell vibrated into existence.

"But now, Satan has probably killed him, and burned his writings," Michael continued as I writhed underneath him.

I tried to gather my reserves, but summoning 'Winnowing' to such a large area had left me drained. I closed my eyes.

Then I was flying. Blue sky mixed with the emptiness of Winnowing flew by. I crashed into the front door of my manor house. The strong oak doors splintered like kindling.

Wooden fragments pierced my human skin like needles.

'Please Master?' Destruction called out.

It was so hard to resist now. My human body was battered and broken. Pain seemed to fill my every thought. My mental shields couldn't hold up much longer. Destruction was pouring out in place of my missing limb. It was too much.

I acquiesced, and embraced Destruction.

The last of my fake form flaked away. True power, the likes of which I had suppressed for so long, rushed through me. Laughter began to bubble up from my sore throat.

And then the change took me and everything faded...

***

-Cariel-

"We need to be ready," Jon said, as he paced frantically back and forth in the tiny bathroom.

A loud crack echoed from outside, and Alarial gasped.

Devnik must have been hit.

I ruthlessly suppressed a raging desire to go help him. Instead, I fingered my collar, and tried to think of happy things. I tried not to think about the Demon, or the choice I would have to make, now that we were all in 'Winnowing.'

But it was hopeless. A mere second passed and I was already trapped in another lurid fantasy.

I'm naked with my legs spread, looking up at the Demon, awaiting his next command. His mouth is stern. His body is long and hard and entirely male. I can feel his dominance over me the way I'd feel the sun on my face.

"Do you know what choice you will make?" Jon asked, breaking my fantasy.

Alarial and Jon were both looking at me.

My sister's blond hair was tangled and her face looked frightened and nervous...but there was also iron there in the way she had set her jaw...I knew she'd made her choice.

Jon simply looked rattled.

"Yes," I said, as I kept my hand on the gold band around my neck.

My eyes unconsciously flicked back over towards my sister, looking for the anger and derision that I knew I deserved for my hypocrisy.

But she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were back out the window.

Another crack echoed across the grounds from outside, and a bright blue light flashed in the window pane.

"Love...?" Alarial whispered as she put a hand on the glass.

A bright red light followed the blue one, and suddenly my senses came alive, as I felt a massive magical presence press against me.

Then, I heard the laughter. It was like a dark, manic boom. There was no sanity, no goodness, in that laugh. It sounded like rocks grinding together. It was like nothing I'd ever heard before.

I couldn't help but remembered some words that I had found carved into stone, as I perused the ruins of Alexandria. My commander, Seraphiel, had pointed them out me and the other Seraphim in our sortie. He had told us they described one of the ten Demon Princes.

Only now did I remember the words I had read so long ago.

Softly, I chanted under my breath.

His voice is like a breaking bone

And the song of shattering stone.

Like listening to a city burn.

He is the sound of the world

Coming Undone

***

-The Demon Prince of Destruction-

Devnikolus breathed in deeply.

He frowned. The stink of charred flesh and rubbled monuments didn't hang in the air. The cries of a broken civilization did not rise up to meet his ears. Strong men did not lie bloody and extinguished at his feet.

That was wrong. Devnikolus brings destruction wherever he treads. He looked around, needing something to burn.

His entire being screamed for the sweet song of ruin.

He looked around, and could see nothing but Hell wrought foliage.

The manor house... something whispered, and he scowled, there was nothing to burn here.

An angel clad all in white flittered in front of him on giant wings.

Michael...whispered a part of the demon lord that cared for things besides damage and decay.

Perfect.

He raised his hands, and limbs made all out of shadow and flickering flames rose in front of him. They were his true hands and he had missed them terribly.

Gouts of true black fire rushed forward. The angel's silver eyes showed fear, but his body was moving. He scurried back and forth, desperately avoiding the beautiful fire.

"Run little bird," Devnikolus said, pleased to hear his true voice on his black tongue. "The struggle makes the inevitable undoing all the sweeter."

The angel shouted back at the demon lord while he moved and dodged and reeked of terror.

"You think this corrupt power will be enough Demon Prince?" His voice was not as collected as it had once been. His calm had been broken.

Devnikolus smiled. Other things would be broken soon.

The demon laughed, and then he moved. He glided forth...made of nothing but darkness and flames.

Suddenly he was standing in front of the angel. The angel's face started in fear. He backpedaled furiously as Devnikolus reached out to touch him.

Blue spells shot from the frightened angel's fingertips. They passed through Devnikolus, like pebbles through smoke.

The demon lord laughed again. Disasters like Prince Devnikolus heed nothing. A wall cannot stop the tsunami. A village cannot stand against the creeping lava.

The angel's fear deepened as Devnikolus's flames reached for him again.

"Enough!" the angel yelled, as his wings shot him backwards.

The angel reached out his hand, and a sword appeared within it, out of a flash of blue lightning.

The shadow-flame creature cocked his head to the side as he stared at the gleaming silver blade. It had a royal blue handgrip and a golden cross embedded in the pommel.

Icy cold power rolled off the blade.

Excalibur...Whispered a voice inside of Devnikolus. Caution.