Lightbringer - The Patron Saints of the Damned III

Megan ran down the long hall, passing paintings and decor in the Holy of Holies that she did not even bother to glance at. It was all just a blur of color until she reached a small room at the end. This room was not what she imagined she’d find, some sort of throne with a bearded Greco-Roman deity being adored by winged angels. It was more like a giant art room, with portraits of various styles covering every bit of wall. Around the room, there were easels with paintings at different stages of development. And in the center of the room stood the artist, what looked like a small child with pastel green skin and long ivy-colored hair. They wore shorts, a loose shirt, and an apron that was so stained with oil paints that there was no telling what the original color had been. They were painting a night sky, trailing a white streak across a wet black canvas. This created what looked like a galaxy, especially when they began to paint stars with a much smaller brush. Their brow was wrinkled, as if they were thinking hard about something.

At their side was an angel with brown wings, brown hair, and fair skin. His body was larger and more muscular than any of the angels Megan had seen, and he wore armor that was simple but impressive. There was a giant sword on his back, which had a dry black substance still on it. There was also something golden on him, which seemed to be oozing out of bandages. It had to have been his own blood, she thought. Clearly in the middle of an impassioned conversation, the angel said “Creator, we cannot just let him go! You don’t know him like I know him. The fallen call him Godkiller for a reason. He thinks you are responsible for the death of that child! He will come for you and he will kill you if he gets the chance!”

“You mean he’s correctly aware that I caused her to die,” the child … the Creator said. They looked at a painting of a girl holding an ax and wearing a familiar green hoodie over a green plaid shirt.

For a moment, Megan forgot what she had been on the way to do. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her pistol.

“Creator, I don’t understand any of this,” Michael said, looking like he had to work very hard not to burst into a yelling fit. “You could have freed or destroyed the fallen by now if either was your plan. There is so much you could do … and yet you do not.”

“You’re angry,” the Creator said, giving a smile that seemed almost happy about this fact.

“I’m not!” Michael said, a little too strongly. “I’m frustrated … because I don’t understand your actions. Ever since the power of the gods returned to you, you’ve done nothing but paint and disguise yourself to socialize with the spirits here as one of them. Now, you suddenly call for action in the form of a Challenge against a demon who is plagued with madness, who has now earned the right to fight you as soon as he sends a summons. Then, he seems to lose interest, and you stay here placidly while the Godkiller tries to end you.”

“You have a right to be angry,” the Creator agreed, nodding and taking on a sober look.

“I cannot be angry with the Creator,” Michael said, as a vein bulged in his temple. “I would give my life for you.”

“My friend, your loyalty has never come into question,” the Creator said, with a somber tone. “But you are the general of my armies, protector of all the many peoples here. As such, you should know more about my actions and motives than anyone here. In light of that, you have every right to be angry about being left in the dark.”

Michael just stood there, his jaw dropping a little and contorting his face in a wounded expression of betrayal before he was able to cover it up and become as stoic as he could manage.

“If I could tell you without risking what I hope to accomplish, I would,” the Creator said patiently, genuinely seeming sincere in their statement. “And while I wish I could simply trust you to continue on with your duties as if nothing unusual were happening, I know that it would forever weigh on your conscience. So, I will give you the only guidance I can, which I hope will lead you down a different road altogether. You are not the only person who feels confused and betrayed. If you can grow past the wounds so deeply carved into your heart to reconnect with your first love, he can lead you to the truth.”

Michael tried to say something, but his words were caught in his throat. It was clear that too much was happening inside for him to handle. With a soft voice, he eventually said, “I will keep the prisoner secure until given orders for his release. Thank you for the precious gift of your time and presence.”

The Creator did not reply, but their eyes watered for a brief instant before their expression changed completely. This time, it was one of knowing. They peered into the doorway, meeting Megan’s stare as she hid on the other side. Those eyes seemed to read all, to immediately understand all that was inside of her. But they were not dark, penetrative, or limited like those of Dufaii. They gently read, as if from a tragic storybook.

“You killed my brother and my friends,” Megan said, feeling hot tears of anger drip from her eyes as she whispered the words. She squeezed the weapon tighter in her pocket.

“I know,” the Creator whispered into her mind. They began to glow with green light … and finally vanished. Just like that, they were gone without even the decency to give any proper sort of reply. No … they were supposed to give her answers! They were supposed to tell her why her brother, the children she’d taken care of all her life, and the one person who ever so briefly understood her were dead. But nothing? Just an acknowledgment before poofing away.

Unbridled rage boiled throughout Megan. Finally, she understood why this being was so hated by the demons and Exousia. It was loathsome to its very core. She stepped into the art room, glared at the angel and said, “You’re the Archangel Michael.”

Michael studied her with a look of confusion and then said, “I am. And you are still within your mortal body.”

“Dufaii brought me here,” Megan said. She wasn’t sure if telling the truth was the right thing to do, but she did know that these beings could read thoughts to varying degrees. So it felt like a waste of time to try to manipulate him. “He knows something about what happened. Something the Archangel Gabriel and some other angel are keeping secret.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow dubiously.

“The Creator sent Exousia to die on purpose!” Megan shouted, stepping towards him. “You just said it. She made it so that bearded demon that Exousia was fighting would win no matter what!”

Michael maintained his untrusting expression for another moment. “Gabriel has too great a heart to have done something like that. I know because he never even wanted the fallen to be punished for their rebellion. It is something that has haunted him all his life. He would never let a child be … butchered like a sacrificial lamb. He must be investigating what happened.”

“He’s a liar,” Megan said, remembering how sincere and honest he’d seemed just a minute before having his talk with that other angel.

Again, Michael shook his head and said, “You don’t understand who you’re talking about. He is the Archangel who protects humankind. He directs the saints to make your world a better place. He would never involve himself in something like this. If he’s manipulating anyone, it’s those who would seek to seed destruction to any of the realms.”

“So he tells you everything?” Megan asked, pointedly.

“We all carry out secret affairs from time to time,” Michael replied, but something struck him. It was a look … just like the one he’d shown when the Creator had mentioned keeping things from him. Like a dog who’d just been told that it was bad.

Megan saw her opportunity and did not let up. “Did he tell you that he’s going to hide Dufaii so that you can’t find out what he knows?”

A muscle in Michael’s face twitched, and he cocked his eyebrow again until he was able to peer into her eyes for a moment and decide that she was telling the truth. “It has to be a misunderstanding. I will go to where we are keeping the Godkiller, summon Gabriel, and sort this whole thing out.”

“I’m going with you,” Megan said. And before he could protest, she added, “If this is a misunderstanding, it won’t matter if I’m there or not.”

“You’ll help the Godkiller escape,” Michael said, looking down at her pockets as she thought about the weapons hidden inside.

“Why does it matter?” Megan asked, chastising him as if he were her younger brother. “You know exactly why he’s here. He’s trying to find Exousia … and he’d leave the second he knew that she wasn’t here. Besides, the Creator told you to let him go. Isn’t obeying them an angel’s whole deal?”

Michael met her stare with one of his own. Then, he shook his head, turned his back, and began to walk slowly enough that she could follow. “How can she be an even bigger problem with the Challenge over and nowhere to be found?” The frustration was clear in his voice, but there was a touch of melancholy in the way he said it too.

“None of you really know where Exousia is?” Megan asked, dubiously.

Michael sighed and something in his eyes seemed to break ever so slightly. Almost as if it were a point of guilt, he whispered, “No … but I’m worried for her.”

-O-

For Exousia, there was nothing but pressure. It made her face, her neck, and her stomach all feel like they were collapsing in on themselves. She didn’t know if her body was moving, only feeling the immediate sensations around her. It was like an implosion of salt weighing on her entire being, making her shrivel and compress into a ball of flesh and blackness. Then, finally, there was a change. Cool relief poured into her mouth, bringing some sense of self-awareness back to her. Exousia remembered choking … remembered thirst. And though she didn’t know what she was drinking, she knew she needed more. So, she clawed her hands around the smooth cup in front of her and greedily drank it down. As she did, the world and her thoughts gradually came into focus.

Exousia was not immediately able to identify what she was looking at. It took her a moment to recognize Roach’s small head with its horns and mandibles. There was also a second face she didn’t recognize. It was a demon whose face looked like that of a goat, but with longer horns. A look at her aproned-clothed body revealed intimidating muscles over a paunchy tummy. So, it was surprising when the bearded creature spoke with the voice of a woman. “Is your friend alright?” she asked, her smoky voice betraying a hint of suspicion. Clearly, she wasn’t asking about Exousia’s well-being … more like she was wondering whether she needed to be kicked out.

“Oh, she’s fine!” Roach said, clapping Exousia on the shoulder roughly. “She’s just been supervising in the mines for too long without a drink.”

“I guess that explains why she doesn’t have wings,” the goat-demon replied, seeming to accept this.

“Small tunnel area,” Roach said with exaggerated sympathy. Then his face twisted into a cruel smile. “But hey, you know what they say about people in glass houses, Baph.”

“None of your human jargon makes sense,” replied the demon named Baph, without much sincerity or emotion. She walked to the other side of the room, where she poured a drink out of a white flask. “Also … I would retort to your obvious comment about my appearance by questioning what did that to your face, but it’s always been lopsided.”

Exousia looked around and realized that she was at a bar … a small building with only a couple more demons patrons. She guessed that Roach had brought her here in her fit of coughing and dying. The demon stood there, smiling after his interaction.

For a moment, Exousia felt a profound sense of shame for having shouted at the demon that had come back to help her. She’d been expecting … so much more, and thus had taken the demon who had rescued her for granted. Trying to face him entirely and look him in the eye as Dufaii had always done when he apologized, Exousia awkwardly forced words to come out. “I … apologize for my behavior … as well as for my being a burden that you felt you had to drag here.”

“You had a little bit of madness,” Roach said and shrugged his shoulders with genuine apathy. “We’ve all been there. Then you choke on some dirt or rock for the first time after a few months down here, and you had to be led around like any drunk person. No biggie. You’re lucky we have drinks. Back in the good old days, you just had to let the madness take its course for a few weeks.”

Exousia nodded; she’d read and heard about what this place had done to the demons trapped inside during the early days. The thirst, the darkness, and all the deathly curses in this realm had made them desperate for relief. Some had resolved to purposefully inflict horrific brain damage in themselves, in order to cease any conscious thoughts unto their bodies healed. By the time damned human souls arrived with blood that could be consumed, it was the only thing that demons could do to keep from spiritually imploding into nothing.

Exousia looked down at the cup in her hands. The liquid was brown and thick like liquor. But it was refreshing; in this place, it tasted more hydrating than water. And it left her with a warm feeling in her belly, like drinking a good cup of tea. It didn’t even matter that Exousia knew what it was … that she was engaging in something akin to cannibalism. Desperation and necessity had annihilated any hesitation she might have had at continuing to drink the blood essence of human souls. There was a bit of bitterness in each swallow, however, and it came from imagining how disappointed Dufaii would have been to have seen her failing at this on top of the rest of her failures.

“Not a cheerful drinker, eh?” Roach asked. looking over as she downed the last bit of drink in her cup.

Perhaps it was the feeling that all had been lost, the effects of the voices of condemnation, or maybe Exousia had lost some inner resolve when she’d repeatedly confided in Megan. However, she was surprised to find that, once again, her emotions came more readily than what she expected from herself. Without even thinking, she looked back expressionlessly and said, “I don’t belong here.” Almost as an afterthought, Exousia looked around the room as if it was what she had meant instead of something deeper.”

Roach nodded a couple times, looking a little disappointed as he prepared to climb down from his chair and leave.

“The bar is fine,” Exousia clarified, giving a grave shake of her head. “It’s just … me. I need to go find Hades. I appreciate your help, but I think I need to go alone. I’m not good … with other people. I thought it was just humans, but being here hadn’t been any better. My decision-making has become increasingly compromised, and half the people I meet still want to kill me. Trust me, you’ll live a lot longer and make a lot more friends if I’m not around.”

Roach gave an understanding nod, peering deeply at her. Then he said, “I don’t blame you. You’ve got to be pretty disappointed coming down here and seeing us like this.”

“My expectations were poorly founded,” Exousia said as she stared blankly over the counter. She didn’t want to talk about what she was feeling any more, but she also knew that this demon had tried his best. So, she attempted to put her sentiments into words, even as they came out as a jumbled mixture of thoughts. “When I was young, I couldn’t even be in proximity to other people because their constantly fluctuating emotions were too much for me to handle. I had to cut off feeling altogether, be a weapon to defeat Ammon. The Challenge … it was the first time I succumbed to my feelings, after. And that led to a lot of harm for them and countless others. I guess I just thought that it could be different if I were with demons, but it turns out that the problem … is me.”

“Well … I thought you’d be taller,” Roach said, his face entirely serious.

Exousia looked at the demon with a perplexed expression and then allowed one of the corners of her mouth to raise a little.

Roach had to cackle at this. Then, he took another drink and became a little more serious. “I get it. You grew up thinking that every demon had to be like Dufaii and Ammon … that you had to be like them too. Then you get down here to actually see us, and most of us are trying to kill you while the rest are desperate, depressed, and agitated. Geez, no wonder you don’t feel at home.”

Exousia didn’t know what to think or say to this surprisingly insightful comment. She took another swallow of the brew and said, “I guess I should drink a little more before I set off.”

Roach scratched the back of her head for a moment, and then said, “Look …. I’ve kind of wanted to meet you for a long time. And, I mean, I know first impressions were less than spectacular. But I can get you to Hades and maybe be your sidekick for a little longer.”

Exousia cringed a little at the idea of having a ‘sidekick.’

“And I get that you feel a little … cursed.” Roach said, clearly still trying to persuade her. “But girl, you lost against Ammon–the Ammon. You know, general in the rebellion? Orchestrator of human society’s corruption? Didn’t it ever strike you even a little that maybe the cards were stacked against you?”

No … this point had been explicitly explained to Exousia by the Archangel Gabriel long ago. But somewhere along the way–between learning sorcery and killing a god–she had actually started to believe that victory was possible. Not only that, but it had become an expectation–something Exousia demanded of herself. Maybe it was pride or foolishness or some kind of narcissism, but she had genuinely thought that absolute perfection was the bare minimum standard for herself. Maybe … that was why she now held such high standards for all the demons around her.

Exousia let her head fall into her hands. After so many years … and, ironically, now that the burden had been lifted, she felt the weight of it more strongly than ever. She’d read about phantom pain–a limb feeling like it was on fire when in actuality it was gone entirely. That was the only analogy that Exousia could think of for the pain she felt in that moment. It took everything in her power not to break down weeping.

Roach patted her on the back and said, “So hey, let me prove myself, and show you what we non-legendary demons are capable of. I’ll do less of the running away, and you can do less of the ‘arg, I’m the big bad Champion who can do this alone.’ We can both get better! Wouldn’t that be something that the Godkiller would be in favor of.”

Exousia bobbed a little with her nod and then said, “Yeah … he would.”

“Waddya say?” Roach asked, looking her in the face.

Exousia paused for a moment, unsure. She felt … scared. That she wouldn’t be able to live up to even these small goals for growth being proposed, that she would fail, that her inabilities would lead others to being hurt again, and that she wouldn’t be able to take the consequences. That once again her desire to connect–the social drive shared by humans and demons alike–would be used against her. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Then … she felt the faintest trace of Dufaii’s soul within. It was the real him, not the disappointed one portrayed by the voices of condemnation and her own toxic shame. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. A distant campfire always burning near home. A parent’s reassuring smile when their child looked back with uncertainty before playing on the playground alone for the first time. That what Exousia was considering was okay … that it was good … no matter how it turned out.

Exousia whispered, “You’ve gotten me this far … so it would probably serve me well to keep on following you.”

Roach beamed with happiness and let out a cackle.

Baph returned with a pitcher of brew to refill their cups. She motioned at Roach and said, “Can you try to wipe that stupid smile off his face before he returns? There’s only one time he’s ever useful with that much energy, and it isn’t for any service that requires the lights to be on or his face visible.”

“You two …” Exousia asked, looking between the two demons.

“For the time being,” Baph said, giving an exasperated sigh.

Roach smiled proudly. “She’s been my sweetheart ever since that incident with the cliff and the soul shattering that I mentioned earlier. I mean, I guess I could eventually wake up, regain my memories, and find out that I have a wife … or husband … or partners … or partners waiting for me somewhere …”

“They could have you,” Baph said dryly.

“What about you?” Roach asked with an appropriately impish grin. “I heard you were dating a vampire for a time. How did that go?”

“Quickly,” Exousia said, doing everything in her power not to react as she tried to change the topic. Instead, her thoughts turned to Megan … if she was okay after all that had happened. It was difficult not to feel like her life had been destroyed as much as the lives of every other person that Exousia had felt for.

-O-

Dufaii opened his eyes slowly, taking a difficult breath of moist cave air. He recognized it, even after so many millennia. He was in the same mountain he’d been imprisoned within after the rebellion. He could almost hear his dismembered comrades crying in agony once again. This was a secret place … and he knew that Heaven had official places for captives. Which meant … that he was being kept hidden. Maybe the loyalists thought that he had brought a team of demons with him, that they were going to break Dufaii out once he was through the walls. If only they knew; they might have even laughed that the demon once called the Godkiller had attacked Heaven for such a worthless reason. He might have laughed cruelly at himself, if it weren’t for what felt like a deflated lung, every rib broken, and enough other injuries that he couldn’t identify the rest individually.

His body was healing, slowly. As for the rest of him … he knew that it wasn’t good. He’d been so desperate to get into Heaven and find Exousia that he’d resorted to bringing another human. The truth was that he was desperate for any possible chance to find Exousia, especially if Heaven really did plan on making her soul entirely human again, effectively destroying her. And maybe … he was already too late.

Dufaii wriggled a bit and found that he was bound in chains that shackled his wrists, ankles, and wings. These rattled just a bit with his effort at movement, which sent breathtaking pain throughout his body. He took labored breaths and looked around at the featureless stone around him. With his demon eyes, adept at seeing in the darkness, he made out a wooden door that let no light through. No sounds were coming from the other side, and the nearest loyalist presence was about thirty feet away.

Dufaii rested his head on the ground and found himself hoping that an interrogation would come. If it did, maybe he would get some answers. But not even Michael had said a word to him. So, Dufaii decided to focus all energy into his wounds … healing himself in case the opportunity came to get free. And with the sort of healing energy that filled Heaven, this was not difficult.

An hour passed before Dufaii finally sensed a presence approaching. This amount of time had not been enough for him to do much except for a shoddy healing of his lungs and ribs. But, at least he would be able to talk if he got the chance.

It was Raphael who opened the door, not hiding her psychic aura as she had in the woods. With a calm tone, she asked, “How are you feeling?” Her black hair, though frazzled, was pulled back neatly like it always was. She wore her blue researcher’s robes, which hid the saber she undoubtedly carried with her. Her golden wings were lowered a bit, as to not scrape against the cave ceiling.

“Where is Exousia?” Dufaii asked, ignoring her niceties.

Raphael gave an exasperated sigh. “Believe me, I would be using her as leverage if I knew.”

Dufaii felt his face twitch and a snarl escaped his lips. “The Creator must know! If they destroy her, I will tell everyone about what the two of you have done.” He recognized that his threat did not come from a position of strength. But they both knew the likelihood that he would eventually be found. And when he was, he would honor every threat he made for the sake of principle.

“The Creator doesn’t want to destroy Exousia,” Raphael said, still sounding tired. “I understand your impression of them … of what they were the last time you saw them. But they have … healed over the years. The Creator is indistinguishable from their old self, the being we used to know. They would never violate her free will by forcefully purging her of her demon blood.”

Dufaii thought about this for a moment. He had his doubts, but he didn’t suspect the Archangel of lying about something like this, especially not while she was in a position of power, with no reason to tell him anything. Finally, he asked, “How could the Creator have possibly escaped their madness?”

“Simple. You and Ammon healed them,” Raphael said, looking into his eyes with discomforting intensity.

Dufaii had wondered … but the direct confirmation was enough to make him feel ill.

Raphael continued, “For all we angels did to try to mend their soul, there was nothing we could do. After the rebellion, the Creator locked themselves in the Holy of Holies; it seemed that they were lost. But then, the soul of a god made its way into Heaven, passing through our every barrier like they were nothing. Then, came another and another, as the Godkiller slaughtered his way through the Earth. We didn’t even know that regaining those shards had restored the Creator’s mind until they opened the doors of the Holy of Holies, sorrowful and seeking repentance.”

Dufaii shook his head, not sure that he believed any of it. He asked, “Then why did they leave my people to rot?”

“They have not ruled here for a very long time,” Raphael replied, looking again tired as she said it. “Even we archangels live in the confines of what the guard will allow. What you’ve done on Earth had been as invaluable for Heaven as for Hell. But you’ve been away for a long time. Dynamics have shifted … and even Michael’s post is honorary at best. Letting the enemies of Heaven free for nothing is not an option the guard will consider. What is more … the demons are not the only threat kept locked in Hell. To open the gates would release horrors like none of our worlds could withstand.”

Dufaii shook his head forcefully; he wanted to scream at her and curse her with violent obscenities. But he shook his head and said, “I’ve given up enough for both of them.”

Raphael cocked her head to the side, seeming surprised at his words.

However, Dufaii meant what he had said. He had already accepted that everyone was right about his loyalties having been compromised. It wasn’t a stretch to accept that he no longer knew the people on whose behalf he’d fought for all these years. Rescuing the demon captains had been his last act as a soldier for demonkind–something he had not once stopped regretting. Dufaii whispered, “All I want is to find my daughter.”

Raphael sighed heavily and placed a hand on his shoulder. “For all you’ve done, I swear that I will do everything in my power to find her. And you’ll both be free of this war when I’ve assured that it’s been dealt with once and for all.”

Dufaii understood the implication. He was going to remain in this dungeon or perhaps another one for a long time. Yet, he no longer felt the will to fight it.