'Umbra'

Her worries were dispelled when the procession came to a halt.

They had traveled a good distance up the Spire, and now stood outside of a set of grand, ornate double doors. An elaborate carving of a tree, blossoming with flowers and fruit and twisted up with serpents, was engraved upon them. Pure silver filled the grooves in the white of the door, outlining the carvings in glimmering arcs of metal. Inlaid firmly into the grand doors were five large, polished, vibrant jewels; one opalescent, one ruby, one sapphire, one amethyst, one citrine. Each was a glaring eye, watching, judging, cold and regal and disdainful of the demon who had dared to wander into their sightlines.

Rhea felt a prickle on her spine. She held strong. Now was not the time to cower.

Doors bigger than these had never stopped her.

Lyre was the first to start moving again. The guard strode forward, every step taken in that practiced, methodical way seraphim carried themselves. It would be easy to imitate one, she realized. All she would have to do is pretend to be a poor, melodramatic actor to mimic them perfectly. And miraculously sprout a pair of wings, of course, but such a feat wasn’t quite out of the question for a serpent such as her.

The teal-winged seraph lifted a hand to the door, and gave three sharp knocks. Each echoed throughout the silence. Once she had finished, Lyre rejoined the formation, wings folded and hands clasped behind her back. The five of them waited in the empty chamber, with Rhea barely suppressing the urge to start pacing, Nihili shifting uncertainly on her feet, and each of the guards still as statues. Even Lyre’s face was blank and cold. Outside, the rainstorm was roaring. The Spire would stand strong, but the serpent couldn’t help the sharp twitches she gave at each roar of thunder and slamming wave of rain. The girl took hold of her hand, pallid fingers gently thumbing the demon’s curved, catlike claws.

When Rhea thought nothing would happen, the doors began to part. Their movement was slow, precise, heavy; an echo of something she knew. Almost unconsciously, she shifted her posture. Shoulders back, chin up, spine straight. Familiar motions, familiar memories. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the whisper of clinging black silk. This may not have been a fortress she knew, but she would not enter this court slithering.

With a final creak, the grand double doors swung open. Like clockwork, the guards; wings unfolded, partially masking them from view. The formation urged them onwards, pulling them into the council hall. Step by measured step, Rhea followed. She passed beneath the grand, empty arch, still clinging to Nihili’s hand.

In her day, Rhea had seen lots of throne rooms. She had seen grand ceilings, rows of columns, thrones of crystals and thrones of bones. Her coils had curled through ice palaces and castles of cruelty, hanging cities hewn from rock and halls half-submerged in ancient lakes. Never once in her life, though, had she been somewhere like this.

Were it not for the absence of rain, Rhea would think the room was open to the sky. Half of the chamber was composed of clear glass windows, stretching along the walls and up to the ceiling. Even from her less-than-ideal spot, she had a grand view of the city below, the ocean of water to the west and the ocean of trees to all other directions. Inside, though, the room was far more simple than anything else they’d seen in the city of angels. It was built almost like a cross between a courtroom and an amphitheater, with benches in rings along the outer wall and a raised podium for the Council to perch at. Save for an intricate arrangement of clear crystals that hung from the ceiling, it was nearly barren of finery. Were it not for the room’s impressive size, Rhea would have almost called it modest.

“And what do you have for us here, Captain Lyre?”

A feminine voice, lilting and perfect, cut through the silence. Rhea’s ears flicked up, and her sharp eyes quickly followed the sound to its source.

The council was, of course, in session. There were five of them, arranged upon the podium like bright birds on a perch. Two sat to each side, with one in the slightly elevated center seat. Much like their room of occupation, the councilors looked rather modest by the standards of seraphim. The colors of their vibrant attire matched the gems mounted upon the door- opalescent white in the center, ruby red and sapphire blue to their direct left and right, amethyst purple and citrine yellow beside red and blue. Each wore a long, high-collared white coat, embroidered with stripes of their respective colors. Circlets of silver and gold were perched atop their heads, each with a single gem set at the center. Despite- or perhaps because of- their simple garb, each of them seemed especially dignified and beautiful. In the faint light of the storm, the five of them were positively glowing.

The one who had spoken was the purple seraph seated to Rhea’s far left. The white of her coat was stark against her honey skin and black hair, the latter of which had been braided into a long, precise plait she kept coiled over one shoulder. Her face was long, her nose sloped and strong, her brows dark and creased with disdain. Each of her six wings were brown, like a golden eagle’s, with only traces of purple. Her violet eyes kept flicking towards the white seraph in the center, searching their face for any sign of acknowledgement. None ever came.

Rhea felt a twinge of pity. It was strange to see such an exchange from the outside.

“Councilor Dignity,” Lyre said, dipping into a light, brief bow.

“Overseer Dignity,” the councilor corrected, her perfect brows lifting further. “You would do well to remember the proper titles of your superiors.

“Yes, Overseer,” Lyre said, bowing again. “My apologies.”

Dignity rolled her eyes. “Your misstep is forgiven. Regardless, Captain, my question still stands. For what reason have you disturbed us?”

The captain lifted her chin, the faintest echo of her earlier smug smile dashing over her lips. “We have found the One you asked my Silverbloods to seek.”

On cue, the three guards’ wings folded back into their previous tight shape. Rhea lifted her chin, staring from councilor to councilor. She held a challenge in her gaze, daring them to act against her. The gesture was ignored. She was not the center of their attention. Instead, the object of their fascination was Nihili.

The girl faced the Council with a boldness that mimicked Rhea’s. Her shoulders were squared, and wings drawn taut. A flicker of stubbornness gleamed in her eyes. It was an unconvincing display. Despite her ferocity, she seemed impossibly small in this grand chamber, with a jury of angels staring down at her. Seemingly ignorant of the child’s attempts at intimidation, the councilors continued to observe her. Five pairs of eyes scoured her up and down, curious, sharp, calculating.

“Move your hair,” the councilor in red ordered. “Show us your eyes.”

Albeit with a stubborn frown, Nihili obliged. Deftly, she swiped back the strands of brown and white hair that normally fell across her face. She tilted her chin up, staring them down with her mismatched eyes.

The red councilor exchanged a glance with Dignity. Like the seraph at their shoulder, their hair was black and their coat was white. Unlike their fellow seraph’s, their skin was of a pale hue more akin to Rhea’s. Four wings fanned out behind them, each the vibrant scarlet of fresh blood. Their tilted eyes were colored a gray so dark they appeared nearly black. Rhea would have thought eyes that dark simply swallowed all light, but the glowing of their pupils only burnt brighter for it. 

“Only one of them is right,” they said, turning their gaze to Dignity. “Overseer?”

“If you will recall, the previous one began with only one eye. This is nothing,” she replied. Again, Dignity glanced back up to the white seraph in the center. Again, they did not acknowledge her. Her attention shifted back to Nihili. “And the leached color is identical.”

“How do you know that this is not some convoluted trick, Justice?” The councilor in blue challenged. “Have you any certain proof of the child’s nature? Or will you simply claim the wild opened your eyes to unknown truths the rest of us are too coddled to be aware of?” He raised a brow, his sapphire gaze boring into their gray eyes. Justice’s nostrils flared, and for a moment Rhea thought they would leap from their seat and tackle the blue councilor. Only for a moment, though. The red councilor quickly composed themself, and gave him a disdainful sniff.

“Inquisitor Justice, Grace,” they hissed. “Kindly plug the leaks in your brain and remember just what title I fought to regain. I fell for mine. The only falling ever involved in your position was when it fell into your hands.”

Grace sighed, and politely broke eye contact with Justice. Of all three councilors to speak so far, he seemed the least eager to be there. His blue eyes had deep bags beneath them, and his brown hair was slightly mussed. The seraph’s skin was darker than that of the others, with a similar silvery-gray pallor to Integrity’s. Perhaps that strangeness was linked to their dour attitudes.

“Though that does raise another question,” Integrity piped up. “How exactly did you stumble upon her? And why is someone like her traveling with…” She gestured vaguely to Rhea, the slightest wrinkle on her beautiful nose.

The Council’s collective gaze turned to Lyre. Even the white councilor’s disinterested glance slid onto her. She puffed up slightly beneath their gaze, and deftly wiped her gloved hands across her coat.

“We found them wandering the antechamber of the Spire,” Lyre said. Her feathers rustled as she spoke, perhaps eagerly, perhaps nervously. “They were asking after the Doctor.”

That same ripple of recognition went through the Council. Each of them stiffened in turn, straightening slightly or tucking in their wings. Their gazes shifted between one another, then briefly to the nervous guard. Poor Temperance looked as if he wanted to shrivel up and die. Rhea’s eyes narrowed as she watched the Councilors’ gazes harden.

“The Doctor, you say?” The yellow councilor asked, finally tuning into the conversation. The seraph was just as strikingly, eerily beautiful as the others, with rich, dark skin, full lips, and warm eyes the amber color of fine caramel. Her black hair was worn in elaborate braids, each of which was tipped with a golden bauble, and pinned into a ponytail by a larger golden ring that sat like a second crown atop her head. The feathers of her four wings weren’t one color, but many; gold and bronze and orange and caramel, layered together like thousands of scattered coins.

“And what reason would these two have to be chasing after some rumors and a presumably dead body?” Justice asked. Their gaze was pointed as they stared unblinking at Lyre. The captain’s gaze broke from theirs, and she lowered her eyes to the floor. She wiped her hands against her coat again, long fingers brushing at her thighs.

The rest of the councilors’ eyes were locked onto Nihili. Like a ring of daggers, they pressed up against her. Beautiful as jewels, but as sharp and hard as them as well. Rhea wondered which would have been the first to pierce her throat. Nihili shrank back, looking towards Rhea fearfully. Rhea opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by another voice.

“We would not have to bother with answering every question concerning his fate if someone had simply kept an eye on him,” Grace fired back sharply.

“I did more to him than keep an eye on him,” Justice snarled.

“Because observing him was not your responsibility. It was the Overseer’s.”

Dignity interrupted. “The Overseer has better things to do than play hatchery maid to-”

Grace cut her off again. “To one of the most valuable and vulnerable seraphim in the entire city?”

“It would have been a waste of my time,” she protested. “He never did anything interesting up until- until then. I had no reason to be watching him myself”

“Then put one of your sundogs on his trail,” he said. “You have plenty. Even in this room, you-”

“You would really be so foolish as to speak of the Parhelion with a demon in the room?” Justice growled, their crimson wings fanning out behind them. The ends of their feathers were ragged. “In a conversation concerning an exile, I feel it peculiar that I must question the loyalty of someone who supposedly-”

“My loyalty?” Grace’s brows lifted. “How about the loyalties of a Reclaimed whose solution to any sort of problem is the brutal murder of anyone who dares to stand in their way? Do they stand for the collective, or for themself?”

They slammed a fist onto their podium. “For fuck’s sake, Grace, it is not murder if it-”

“Can you two stop?” The fourth councilor wailed, pressing her face into her hands. “This is the third time in only a few days that the two of you have gotten into some petty argument over loyalties or morals or anything of the like. Are we incapable of going even one meeting without an argument? And you start going at each other during a meeting in which we explicitly need to-”

“Shut up, Charity,” the other three councilors snapped in unison.

The fourth councilor- Charity- sighed. She dramatically threw her hands up in the air, before returning them to their polite clasped position.

“My apologies for trampling your fragile ego, Inquisitor,” Grace said, politely folding his blue-and-brown wings.

“You would call my ego fragile? Which one of us picked this fight?”

Before Grace could respond, a silence fell. A burst of lightning flared outside. The shadow of four perfect wings fanned out across the chamber.

“Silence.”

Strikingly out of place amongst the vibrant Council was the seraph at the center of it. Unlike the rest, they were no bright bird. They were so pale she could almost see the silver veins beneath their paper-white skin. With the pallid hue of their clothes, hair, and eyes- paler than even Temperance’s- combined, they looked less like a person and more like an unfinished drawing. Resting on their head was not a circlet, but a crown. Wrought of silver, accented with opal and diamond, the true key to paradise.

At first, Rhea’s eyes had merely passed over them. She had met with shadow kings, snow queens, princes of the ocean and monarchs of the desert. Despite the tales told, she knew that Chevalier Valiance was just one more of them. Another creature with the sort of power nobody should hold, but that someone- always, always, inevitably- had to.

Their fingers gripped the edges of the podium as they leaned forward, eyes sharp as they drifted from face to face. Fine fingers, not fit for work. Fingers that had never dirtied themselves with unsavory, necessary tasks.

“Let them speak.”

She knew that. She knew that. She knew that, if she took her fangs and bit, they would bleed like any other. They weren’t a god. They weren’t divine. They were… they were-

Thunder rolled outside. It shook the windows in their frames.

That. That was what they were. They were thunder with a speaking voice, a storm with ivory plumage. Brilliant radiance and ethereal perfection. Heaven in its purest form. This, she realized, was the radiance she had been seeking in Calyxa's colorless form. This was the angel she had been searching for.

The warrior in her wanted to bow before their shining might, to pledge blade and fang. But that piece of her was small, squashed and stamped out by the clamor of instincts. The rest of her was screaming to run. To fight. To get out of this. To get out of this alive. She ignored both shrieking, howling parts of her mind, letting their cries fade into background noise.

Rhea did not realize that the seraph meant her until she felt a sharp prod at her side. Already, her muscles were tensed to retaliate- but it was only Nihili. The girl looked up at her with sharp eyes, scared eyes, eyes that were twisted with irritation into sharp lines and divots. She nudged Rhea with her elbow again, and the demon regained her previous composure. She was a serpent, beholden only to the law of the night. 

“We search for the Doctor because we search for answers,” Rhea said. The sound of her own voice was eerie after so long. Clear. Confident. Cold. Sharp as a quality blade, and twice as uncaring. Each word on her tongue was a weapon in her deft demon’s hand. It was a stranger’s voice, and it was her voice, and she was the stranger in her own skin.

Nihili looked at her strangely.

“She knows not how her nature came to shift, and we were advised to seek him out. We were told that answers could be found from the Doctor, and only from the Doctor. So again, I ask- where is he to be found?”

The councilors shifted. Again, Rhea saw the ripple of unease.

Finally, the Chevalier glanced towards Dignity. She sat up straighter.

“You are in no place to ask questions, demon,” the Overseer said, with a swish of that beautiful plait of hers. “However, if her power is the heart of her concern? We may have a solution.”

“And who told you of this?” Justice asked, leaning forward in their seat.

“A woman in white,” Rhea answered. It was enough of the truth to satisfy them diplomatically, if not directly.

“Did she grant to you her name?”

“Not directly.”

“What does it matter?” Dignity cut in. “She is long gone, but we have found another One. Another One to whom we can offer what we gave to her.”

“And what would that be?” Rhea asked. She already knew the answer, but still- a question is rarely a waste.

Dignity spread her arms. “Shelter. Safety. A tutor, even.”

“But no answers? No cure?” The demon raised a brow.

She tilted her head. “Why would you want to cure a miracle? That child is the most-”

Justice gave her a sharp, warning look. The seraph huffed a sigh.

“Regardless,” Dignity continued. “We will keep her safe. You need not worry. You can go home, serpent. Live among the rest of your kind.

Rhea lifted her chin. “I stay with her or I take her with me.”

Dignity frowned. Justice rolled their eyes. Grace and Charity exchanged a concerned, troubled look. Only Valiance remained unfazed.

“Very well,” they said. “You may stay with her. You will be in separate quarters, but-”

“I stay with her.” Her eyes were steel.

The Chevalier was quiet for a moment, then they gave the barest sliver of a single nod. “You will remain here until the storm clears. Then, Silverblood Temperance will take you to your rooms.”

Rhea bowed her head. Valiance nodded again, then rose to their feet. The rest of the council followed suit. “This meeting is adjourned,” they said, in unison. Despite the storm raging outside, the room began to fill with light. A bright glow, like staring into the sun, swallowed the chamber whole. There was a strange sound; a hiss, a crack, a pop. The pressure in the room rose, then fell, then returned to normal. Rhea squinted, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. Nihili’s hand was still firmly grasping hers, but the child’s fingers were her only anchor. The rest of the world was ablaze.

When the light cleared, the room was empty. Valiance was gone, as were Dignity, Grace, and two thirds of their escort. Justice and Charity had walked down from their places at the podium, and were strolling past Rhea and Nihili. The demon shifted, urging her eyes to take in everything she saw of the two.

The first to catch her attention was Justice. Perched up there, they had been a hawk surrounded by parrots. Something about them was strange, wild, vicious in a way the others weren’t. Now that she had them up close, Rhea noticed what it was that had set her off: their face was crossed with scratches and scars. 

Two slashes sat upon their cheek, and an X across their nose. Only the slightest signs of imperfection, but more than enough to mark them as somehow different from the others. In her homeworld, each scar was a story untold; a sign you were stronger than whatever had wanted you dead. Here, they were flaws; ugly, imperfect, shameful flaws.

She touched the scar across her own cheek. Her mark was much smaller, but in the Edennans’ perfect eyes, just as damning.

They caught her looking, and locked their eyes with hers. Rhea dropped her hand, and tucked them both back into her pockets. She held their gaze until they departed the chamber. Only then did she let her eyes stray back to their previous wandering.

“Temperance,” Charity said. Her words tore the silence in two. “Would you be so dutiful as to attend to our… what are we to call them? Wards? Guests?”

The pallid guard- a Silverblood, she mentally corrected- snapped to attention. Obedient as ever, he tucked in his wings and bowed briefly to her. “Indeed, your eminence,” he said, eyes fixed firmly on the ground beneath the golden seraph’s boots. “What do you wish for me to do?”

She waved a hand, somewhat dismissively. “Just keep your eyes on them, so that I can do one less thing myself. Do your job, and all that.”

“Yes, your eminence.” Temperance nodded sharply in response.

Satisfied, the councilor crossed her arms. “Good,” she said, with a smile. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” Braids bobbing cheerfully behind her, she strode out of the chamber with a hum on her lips. Temperance watched her depart with trembling hands. Softly, he sighed to himself, then turned to Nihili and Rhea.

“So,” he began.

“So,” Rhea wryly replied.

The Silverblood glanced out the window. She followed his gaze. Outside, the storm showed no sign of letting up. Rain still slammed against the windows in merciless sheets of shining bullets, twinkling in the faint light like a hail of falling stars. The clouds stewing above were dark and angry, still heavy with waiting rain.

Temperance turned back, wringing his hands. “I take it you do not wish to stay here.”

“And I take it you are trying to figure out how to get us to obey you,” Rhea said.

“I would wish that you did, but I do not care to force you. We both know it would be a waste of both our time.”

“Well, at least you’re smart,” the demoness chuckled, shoving her hands into her pockets. Nihili broke away from her side to watch the storm outside.

Temperance shifted uncomfortably. “As are you,” he said, glancing towards her with an odd shyness. “So you know that-”

“It’d be easy enough for me to bury a blade in your neck and get me and her out of here in seconds?”

“No,” he huffed, drawing his wings closer in an almost protective fashion. His voice dropped to a whisper which she strained to hear. “I mean, you know that it would be less difficult for you to simply follow orders for now, and then slip out at some easier time.”

She blinked.

The silverblood lifted a brow to her in a surprisingly bold gesture. “That is what you were planning, yes?”

Hesitantly, the demon gave him a single nod.

“I had a feeling,” he sighed, shifting his wings. “And so, likely, do they.”

“They can’t hold me,” she said matter-of-factly. As far as she knew, it was true. Edenna had not been built to make a prisoner of a serpent.

“For your own sake, as for mine, I hope that your conclusion is a correct one.”

A bright strike of lightning flashed, briefly blinding the room’s inhabitants. Only seconds later, ringing like a chorus of grand church bells, another peal of thunder rumbled. Nihili, who had pressed her hand to the window pane, recoiled with a squeak at the sudden shake of the glass under her fingers. Rhea’s ears flicked up at the noise, instinctively tensed.

“On that note,” Temperance said, wings fluttering nervously, “are we now to go?”

Rhea glanced to Nihili, who nodded hesitantly. The demon’s lips quirked into a sarcastic grin, and she dipped her head to the seraph. “Seems like it.”

Temperance flicked his wings slightly, and led them out of the chamber. The lights dimmed behind them as they left, throwing the whole chamber into shadow illuminated only by the faint shine of the city beneath. Once they had fully exited, the monumental doors slammed shut once more. The force of the movement gave a resounding echo, rumbling through the empty antechamber with a quiet- but no less thunderous- boom. 

Nihili sank deeper into her hoodie, wrapping her wings tight around herself as if willing herself to disappear. “I thought they said to wait until the storm cleared,” she mumbled.

“Well, they never said we couldn’t look around,” Rhea said with a shrug.

Temperance inclined his head, fixing her with an authoritative glare. “You are to do no such thing,” he said. With the faintest trace of irritation, the seraph placed his hands on his hips. “The Reliquary has expressly requested that I-”

“Actually, what is a Reliquary, anyway?” She asked, giving Nihili a knowing look.

Nihili squinted at her in bemusement. “What are you tr- ohh,” she said, nodding as Rhea nudged her. “Okay. Yeah, what is a Reliquary? Actually, wait, can we go ask them what their job is? Are we, like, allowed to do that?”

“Why don’t we go ahead and do it anyway?”

Nihili started to respond, but Temperance cut her off. The silverblood pinched the bridge of his nose. He fixed the two of them with a stern look, glancing between their matching wolfish grins with growing exasperation. “I am trying to work with you and your young companion, Lilthan- but if you so firmly insist on being as irritating as you are capable of, then I fear we may encounter difficulty.”

“Then work with us,” Rhea said. “Bring us there. How long of a walk is it?”

“Not considerable enough to stop me,” he said. “Very well, then. It seems we are to take a detour.”

Nihili clapped her hands lightly, while Rhea settled hers back into her pockets. “Sounds good. Lead the way, o most radiant of Silverbloods.”

Temperance had been correct about the distance.

The walk from the Council hall to wherever the Reliquary’s chamber was situated took time, though neither too much nor too little of it. They passed back through the same identical elegant hallways as before, or maybe a set of entirely new ones. Through the high windows, gray light filtered in. Occasionally, it was punctuated by another brilliant flare of lightning. Clearly, the storm was far from breaking. Perhaps it might simply go on forever. For some strange reason, she didn’t quite mind the thought.

Along the way, things were mostly quiet. Nihili did not speak, nor did she. Temperance, too, kept quiet, though something still seemed to be on his mind. As if compelled to speak up, Rhea shattered that silence.

“Who was he to you?”

“Hmm?”

Temperance threw a quick glance back towards her, fiddling distractedly with the collar of his uniform jacket.

“Who was he to you?”

He sighed. “I am afraid I do not know who you are referring to.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rhea drawled sarcastically. “Maybe the most esteemed individual we’ve been asking all over the city for?”

“Do not speak of him so impolitely,” the silverblood chastised.

“You’re dodging the question,” she said, walking slightly faster to catch up to him. He leaned away in discomfort, tucking his wings closer around himself. “I just want an answer.”

“I would like to give you one, but we are not permitted to speak of him.”

“Then just tell me,” Rhea urged. “I’m not one of them. You don’t need to worry about me telling anybody anything.”

“Perhaps, but still. It would be unwise to take such a risk.” The silverblood’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You never know who may be listening.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do,” she said. “And I can assure you that nobody’s here.” Grinning, she flicked an ear to prove her point. “I promise.”

“What worth is a serpent’s word?” He asked.

“More than you probably think.”

Temperance flicked the tips of his wings, nervously shuffling the layers of white feathers as he folded them back into place. “Very well, then,” he softly said.

His wings curled around his body, and he tilted his gaze up towards the ceiling. When he continued, his voice had taken on an aching sort of softness; a tender, almost candle-like warmth, lighting a path through the dark.

“There are many, many things that I could say, but few that I will. If I am to start simple, he and I were… close.” Temperance chuckled. “Though, if I am to be truthful, ‘close’ feels far too simple a descriptor- but I doubt the language to describe such things exists. Can mere words even capture the feeling of sharing the essence of oneself? …ah. Never mind that. You wish to know more of him, yes?” He looked towards Rhea. 

She nodded.

“I thought so,” he hummed. “Very well. I need only a moment to think of where to start.” Though he fell silent, the seraph was true to his word. A few seconds later, he started speaking once more. “For one, he was intelligent. A veritable mad genius, in many a sense of the word. Utterly inexplicable, bound to no rhyme or reason, and yet one of the most wholeheartedly, absolutely radiant seraphim to ever grace this city. It could be argued that he knew more about this world and how it functions than any other singular seraph. Despite all the time we spent together, even I can hardly fathom the extent of his wisdom. That was why he was known, of course. However, what is often neglected in discussion of him is that he was far more than simply a brilliant mind.” 

Temperance smiled gently to himself. “He was a seraph, too. He had loves, passions, ideals. Few ever learned of it, but… he loved the little black garden snakes. And natural things, of all kinds- truly, I could never forget all of the flowers he made grow- but they were his favorites by far. They live all over the city, you know, and the two of us would walk for hours in hopes of spotting one of the sneaky creatures. I never saw as many as him, but he did always have better eyes than mine. The most beautiful yellow eyes…”

Lost in thought and humming softly to himself, he looked far more content than he had been previously. Though a current of melancholy gloom underpinned his monologue, he seemed- in some small way- to be at peace. Rhea almost felt guilty to speak up again.

“So… what happened?” She asked, with the barest reluctance.

“I had a feeling you would inquire about that,” the seraph sighed. His shoulders sagged, and his wings drooped along with them. The tips of his wings dragged on the white marble floor. “Well. If I am to put an agonizingly long story very, very short, he… well. He was pushed too far, and fell for it.”

It took all of her strength to avoid flinching. “That feeling is one I know all too well.”

Temperance nodded solemnly. “I could tell.” Footsteps slowing, he glanced to Nihili. Rhea followed his gaze. The little girl wore her very best attempt at inconspicuousness, brown face the picture of innocence. There was no chance she was listening in on their conversation. None whatsoever. Not at all. She would never even dare. The demon suppressed a chuckle.

The seraph quickly caught notice. He lowered his voice even further, until even Rhea strained to hear what he said.

“I know little of the situation, but what I can say is that the girl whom you guard is far from the first of her kind.”

With that, he fell silent. The seraph tucked his wings back into their previous tightly-folded placement, lifted his chin, and was once more a stoic, dutiful Silverblood. Even though Rhea knew it was no different than changing faces, and that watching his entire persona shift while his appearance remained the same was the sort of strangeness that verged upon uncanny.

Silence haunted the rest of their walk. The only sound was that of their barely audible footsteps, rhythmic and whispering, drowned out by the dull howl of the thunderstorm. Baleful echoes followed in their wake, a muted cacophony of dark whispers. Long shadows stretched across the corridor, cast from tall, large windows that faced out towards an empty gray sea. Strangely, it felt like home. Or, at the very least, the place that had called her its own.