Darius's Perspective – 18th Harvestwatch
Seraphina's Haven, Holy Empire
The glasslike fracture sealed behind me with a soft hum, leaving Duskmere behind me and the cool air of Caelanth pressing against my face. I allowed myself a breath of satisfaction. My sister was alive, defiant as ever.
I walked forward through the marble halls of the newly built Shining Courts. Seeing my sister safe was a relief. After she stabbed the Duke in the balls, she taken Dalia and ran. I drew the guards off their trail so they could escape, but I had not seen her since.
I pinned the blame on her squad for the incident and killed them with my own hand to keep it silent. The fury the Duke felt at my sister had died with their deaths and even Lucifer grew uninterested.
The outer corridor was clean and cool. The air felt like smooth silk compared to the burn of Hell. Clouds, which I had once read about, were as beautiful as the books promised. The plants fascinated me. Verdant greens, golds and oranges. They grew without trying to kill you.
It was heaven. At least as close as a hellborn would ever get to it.
I dropped the illusion around me. The suit faded and my armor returned, white plates laid over one another, soft to the eye yet harder than steel. Each piece was wrought from Lucifer's fallen feathers.
Most called it an honor. I knew better. It was a reminder that I was trash, kept only because I was useful, and I would keep it that way.
I set my helmet on my head and moved toward the throne room. Lucifer would be awaiting for my report.
Succubi maids lowered their gazes and trembled as I passed. Soldiers straightened. Fiends restrained their flames.
To the public I was terror made flesh. The right hand of Lucifer. People had died for minor offenses in front of me, sometimes by overeager subordinates, sometimes because Lucifer wanted to watch me squirm. It was a mask that could never slip. It was the only reason my sisters and I were alive.
I arrived before the throne room doors. They were massive, inlaid with gold and marble, but they lacked the ancient, gaudy menace of the ones in Hell. These were new, unfinished. The two guards robed in Lucifer's white and gold opened them without a word as I approached.
The hall inside was a monument to his will. Tall pillars of polished obsidian and raw hellstone held up the distant ceiling, each one dragged from the underworld at his command. The logistics had been a nightmare, a cost paid in a thousand lesser lives, but an order was an order
The vast room was empty, save for the single throne at the far end that dominated the space. And upon it, lounging as if he hadn't a care in all the realms, sat Lucifer.
He was not like us. He was not like anything from Hell. He was, to all appearances, human—if a human could be seven feet tall and proportioned with an athlete's grace.
He was hedonistic and prideful, but one look at him and you knew he had every right to be. His was a beauty that transcended mortal understanding; it was a presence, a weapon in itself. The most beautiful person I had ever seen or ever would see.
A white noble suit was draped casually over his frame, left open to expose a physique that painters would weep to capture.
His hair wasn't just golden, it seemed to be gold, a cascade of soft curls that shone with its own internal light. His eyes were the same, molten and piercing.
Behind him, gently floated his two great wings. They were impossibly large, powerful, and a brilliant, perfect white. Each feather was said to be capable of miracles; I knew for a fact each was as sharp as a blade.
They were the only part of him that showed the truth. At the very tips, the radiant white was stained, darkening to a sooty, corrupted black.
That faint corruption was the true measure of his power. The other archangels, the great traitors of Heaven, had been warped by Hell's corrosion for over two thousand years, their divine forms twisted into monstrous visages. But Lucifer... he remained almost untouched. The stronger the angel, the slower the rot.
He looked at me as I approached, a lazy smile playing on his perfect lips. I crossed the vast expanse of polished stone, the sound of my armored boots the only thing breaking the silence. I stopped ten yards from the dais and dropped to one knee, my helm tucked under my arm.
"My lord Lucifer."
"Darius," he said, his voice as smooth and warm as sunlit gold. "You're back. I was beginning to grow bored. Did you enjoy your little trip to the mortal world?"
"The mission is... incomplete, my lord."
Lucifer's smile didn't waver. He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Incomplete? How so?"
"The mortals were uncooperative. The girl, Annalise, refused to come." This was the most dangerous part. Lucifer could tell when someone was lying. I Which meant only the truth and nothing but would leave my mouth, in a manner that would not get me killed.
"Refused?" Lucifer's musical laugh echoed in the hall. "My friend, my sword, when did I mention offering her a choice?"
He stood, not with a burst of energy, but with a slow, deliberate grace, like a panther uncoiling. His white wings spread slightly behind him. He descended the steps, his bare feet making no sound on the stone.
"My instructions were simple, were they not?" He circled me, his casual tone a cold weight on my shoulders. "'Retrieve the mortal girl. Unharmed.' That was the first part. A simple enough task for my Captain of the Royal Guard, I thought."
He stopped in front of me, forcing me to stare at the floor.
"And the second part," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The... family matter. Your wayward sister." He let out a soft sigh, as if disappointed. "I believe my words were 'in chains.' As a lesson. I simply cannot have my property thinking it can just... leave. It's a matter of appearances, you understand."
His smile finally vanished. The warmth in the room bled away, replaced by a cold vacuum.
"So, tell me, Darius. Where are my two deliveries?"
I kept my eyes down. "I have neither, my lord. My sister... she stood with them."
Silence.
I tensed, preparing for the strike. It didn't come. "Look at me," he commanded.
I lifted my head. His golden eyes were flat, all light gone from them. "You failed me."
He didn't move. He was simply there. One moment he was ten feet away, the next his hand was on my chest.
It wasn't a push. It was an explosion.
I felt the plates of my armor. Wrought from his own feathers, a reminder that I was his, that I was nothing, buckle and shatter. I flew backward, a broken toy hurled by a god. I smashed into one of the obsidian pillars thirty yards away and collapsed, the air driven from my lungs.
Before my vision could clear, he was standing over me, his hand gripping my jaw as he yanked me onto my knees. "Was the order unclear?" he asked, his voice soft. His grip tightened, my jaw popping under the pressure.
"Did you think you knew better than me?" He released my face, and his foot connected with my chest plate. I rolled backwards, gasping as pain lanced through my side, my hands bracing against the marble floor.
"You. Disobeyed. Me." He seized me by the gorget, the metal groaning in his grip as he effortlessly lifted me from the floor. I clutched at my ribs, my feet dangling as I was held dangling in the air.
"You let your blood... your sentiment... override my will."
With a simple flick of his wrist, he threw me. I tumbled end over end, a comet of white armor and black disgrace, across the entire length of the throne room.
I didn't stop until I shattered the massive, unfinished marble and gold doors at the entrance, my body coming to rest in a pile of splintered wood and broken stone among the terrified guards.
I lay there, my world a spinning vortex of agony.
Footsteps. He had crossed the hall in an instant, and now stood above me in the ruined doorway. He was pristine. Not a single golden hair was out of place. He calmly adjusted the drape of his suit.
"You have not only failed me, Darius," he said, that casual, friendly tone returning. "You have forced me to disappoint an... associate. And that, I truly cannot abide."
He knelt, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head up so I had to meet his gaze. His golden eyes were bright again, full of that awful, hedonistic amusement.
"Go. Get the girl. I do not care what it costs. I do not care what you have to burn, or who you have to kill. Bring her to me."
"And... my sister?" I choked out, blood filling my mouth.
Lucifer's expression softened into one of mock sympathy. He let go, dropping my head back onto the stone with a dull thud. "Ah, yes. Nox. My order was 'in chains,' wasn't it?" He stood and sighed, as if discussing a minor error in accounting. "I will be very displeased should you mistake my orders again. She did stab a Duke, after all."
He began to walk away, straightening his suit.
"But," he said, pausing in the center of the hall, "you have been so loyal until today. So... useful." He turned his head, looking back at me with a magnanimous smile. "So, I will be generous. I will pardon your sister's life. Consider it a reward for your years of service. A final gesture of my affection."
The smile vanished.
"But this is the last time. Your loyalty is now in question, Darius. So, you will bring me the mortal girl. You will not fail me again."
He tapped a finger to his chin, as if a new thought had just occurred to him. "Because if you do... that pardon is revoked. And I will give your sister to the Fourth Commander. I'm told he has... inventive... methods for teaching obedience." his smile returned, cold and sharp, "Then again, Asmodeus has been complaining of boredom. The Angel of Lust is so fond of new playthings. Especially defiant ones."
He left me to ponder the choice.
"Bring me the girl, Darius. Don't make me get creative."
He turned, and with a sweep of his perfect white wings, he was gone, leaving me a broken heap of armor and disgrace in the ruins of his doorway.
I lay in the shattered doorway for a long time, the guards too terrified to approach. Finally, with a groan that was lost under the scrape of contorted metal, I used the broken doorframe to haul myself to my feet.
My chest was a constellation of agony. My ribs felt like a sack of broken glass, and every breath was a fresh, hot spike of pain. My armor was destroyed, the white plates blackened and caved in. I could feel the sticky-warm flow of my own blood down my side.
After a few moments, the armor seemed to restore itself, the feathers unfurling into the curved breastplate once more. Even discarded, Lucifer hated his feathers not to be absolutely perfect. Within seconds, from the outside, I looked like the pristine captain of the guard once more.
A lie. The armor was pristine, but the man inside was broken.
The healers' wing was close. I just had to make it there.
I forced myself to walk, my gait stiff. I donned my helm so I could breath heavier without being seen. The filtered air did nothing for the fire in my lungs. I would not show them this weakness.
Each step on the marble floor sent a jolt through my body. It was then, as I passed an adjoining courtyard, that a shock of noise cut through my pained haze. Shouts and cheers. No one should be shouting in the palace.
I turned aside, my hand on the hilt of my sword, and found a ring of hellborn and fiends crowded around a post. I tried to step through, but the press was too tight. A twelve-foot fiend loomed in front of me, muscles like iron rope and horns made for goring. A butcher's blade hung at his side.
I tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me."
"Buzz off, punk," he growled, eyes fixed ahead. "Find somewhere else."
"Pardon?" My voice was a low rasp, filtered through the helm.
He spun and shoved his face into mine. "I said buzz—" He froze as he saw who I was. The flawless white armor, the sigil of Lucifer. A look of horror flashed across his face as he dropped flat at my feet and knocked others sprawling.
The ring turned to fight whoever had dared to strike at them, and froze. In seconds, the courtyard was silent.
The big fiend shook so hard his horns rattled. "M—m—m—my lord," He stammered, "I did not know it was your gloriousness. P—please forgive my transgression. No. I will punish myself."
I lifted off my helmet. The motion sent a sharp twinge down my neck, but I had to show my face. I couldn't let the helm muffle my words. Around us, hellborn, lowered their eyes. Those nearest took a knee.
"Punish yourself?" I asked, kneeling before him. The act of bending sent a wave of dizziness over me, but I fought it down. I wanted to explain that there was no need, he didn't do anything wrong.
His breathing grew increasingly ragged at my words. I had done foul work for Lucifer… but I had not built my name on mindless cruelty. Why this groveling terror?
Before I could speak again, he seized one horn. Muscles bunched. A sharp crack split the air as he broke it off.
He held it up, half-sobbing from pain. "Please accept my horn as repayment for my transgressions."
A fiend's horn. A symbol of their power, a store of their life essence. If I refused, he would be torn apart by the others trying to get in my good graces. If I accepted, he would lose rank both in the army and power, but he would keep his life.
I took the horn, the rough, warm keratin grating against my gauntlet, and clipped it beside two others on my belt. "I forgive you."
The fiend let out a shuttering breath. Around us every head was bowed. No one met my eyes. Which left only the thing on the post.
Atop the wooden stake hung a sack of meat. No. A person. I stepped forward, and the crowd crawled out of my way. Blood covered the creature from throat to heel, dripping to the white stone beneath her. It was a mortal of some sort, seemingly female. It was hard to tell as there were entire chunks of its body missing.
Only the face was untouched. Pale, almost ethereal. She had long sharp ears, one lopped halfway off. Her hair was once gold. She was beautiful in a way no succubus could mimic.
Her eyes were half open, tear streaks carved dry trails on her cheeks. Her eyes met mine with a surprising willpower. Her lips moved in a language I did not know. I let magic thread through me and the words became clear.
"Yaelin, Why have your forsaken your flock…"
A fat, pig fiend approached and bowed. He had two horns with a third budding.
"My lord. We caught the wretch outside the city… A forward scouting unit." He wiped his red maw with clawed hands repeatedly, "…they were strong… the rest fought to the death while she fled… I found her cause she smelled sweet…. So sweet. I couldn't hold it back anymore and took a bite…" The pig trailed off, drool dripping down his cheek.
"It was like the ambrosia of the gods… we wanted to save some for the second commander… And for you, my lord. A taste of the mortal realms."
I looked at the dying woman. My pristine armor was a lie. Beneath it, my own blood was still seeping into my undersuit, not unlike her. I looked back at the hoard, at their eager, stupid faces
"You were the one to capture her?" I asked.
"Yes m'lord."
"And you brought her to palace to taste?"
"Absolutely m'lord. For you m'lord. I—"
A clang of metal on stone interrupted him. He looked at the sword I threw at his feet. The motion of throwing had cost me, sending a fresh spike of pain through my ribs, but the armor hid any signs of weakness.
"Pick it up." I said.
"M'lord." The fiend stammered "I—I don't understand."
"Pick up the blade. So that you may face my judgement."
His skin went ashen. He collapsed and shook. "Please. Mercy! What have I done wrong, my lord! Mery!"
"You have brought a mortal who serves the goddess Yaelin into the house of the banished the first angel." I said, drawing my sword. "You spilled mortal blood on our lord's floor. You tortured her publicly. Within in the palace courtyard no less. You mean to insult our lord."
"My lord I wouldn't dare. Please forgive me!" The fiend squealed. "I will do anything. I pledge my soul to you!"
"Stand up like a devil and face your judgement." I looked around, every fiend lay prostrated, "Or I will send you to the fourth commander."
The title hushed even the most raging hearts.
The fiend trembled, as he screamed, "My lord, it was a mistake. Please for—" he shot forward, grabbing the sword and swung with all his might. Cheap. Predictable.
Even broken, I was faster. I parried his blade, the impact jarring my cracked ribs, but the perfect armor held. I didn't flinch. I used his own momentum against him, trailing my own blade down his arm and across his throat, decapitating him in a single, smooth swing. My body screamed at the exertion, but the act was done.
I flicked my sword to get rid of the blood as his headless body collapsed to the floor.
I turned to the woman. Her eyes were wide. I shaped my magic so my words could be understood.
"Do you want me to grant you death?" I asked, "Or do you want to live?"
She stared at me blank eyed, seemingly not comprehending me for a second. Then she opened her mouth softly. "I want to live."
I turned. My cape snapped behind me. I plunged my sword into the marble ground, using it as a cane for just a moment to steady myself. The courtyard was spinning again.
"I do not care who. Take this woman to my room." I said, my voice tight with pain. "By nightfall, she will look exactly as she did when she was found."
None of the crowd lifted my head, but I took care to remember each of their figures. "Is that clear?"
"Yes, my lord." The crowd replied almost in unison.
I pulled my sword free and slid my helmet back on, sealing my pained breaths from the world. I stalked off towards the healers' wing, my boots echoing off the walls. No one else dared breathe. Because of that, I could hear the woman speak before I turned the corner.
"Thank you."