Lightbringer - The Patron Saints of the Damned III

Slowly, the material plane of Hell slowly merged with another place familiar to Exousia. It was an island on an infinite sea—either daylight or night depending on one’s side of the water. It seemed that Hell had always been closer to Heaven than it seemed—a dead husk of a world, devoid of any soul. Would this mean that the perfection of Heaven would be lessened by the re-merging of the two realms? There was no way to tell. However, the souls of both realms were now free—free to wander the cosmos and maybe even make universes of their own like the Creator had once done. As for the mortal realm, the recycling of all the shards of divinity that had formed upon the death of the Creator would sustain it for the foreseeable future.

Exousia found herself with Gabriel and Hades while all others looked with awe aat what was happening to the world around them.

“I wonder if I will be leaving this world behind,” Gabriel said as he sat in the grass forming beneath them.

Hades replied, “Your people may want to think about it carefully. Some souls—human and angelic alike—may wish to stay in Heaven. As for my people, you will not have to worry about us interfering with the humans. We will go and find a place unburdened by the memories of this place.”

“Yes, we’ll surely have our own work to do,” Gabriel said before the two of them went their separate ways.

Megan stepped forward, her presence still surprising to Exousia somehow. Her body was covered with gashes and wounds, and her hair still stood up on end. Her expression was more confident than ever, though there was still some uncertainty in how she tried to speak when she bit her bottom lip and asked, “So … you’ll be going with them when they leave?”

Exousia felt uncertain in her ability to reply. “I … eventually … yes.”

Megan gave a small sad smile. “I guess I knew that you would. It’s just … do you ever feel like there is no place in the universe for you? I guess I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.”

Exousia opened her mouth but nothing came out. She’d felt it all her life. Maybe she would always feel it. She said, “You could come with us.”

Megan stepped forward and kissed Exousia gently on the lips. But she then shook her head, and replied, “There are others who don’t have a place anymore either. People like my brother and his friends. I think … they need me more than you do now.”

The Archangel Michael approached then, his eyes darting around like he was lost. He said, “I … will also return to help the humans in their adjustment period. The Creator … would have wanted that. They always cared a lot for the mortals.

Exousia felt a sad hollow sensation in her chest as the two of them walked away—waving their farewells. She felt confused, and hurt, and disappointed. But after all that had happened, she was still feeling—and that was what mattered.

It was then that Dufaii, who had been hovering nearby, approached.

“Your eyes and wings … they suit you,” Dufaii said.

Exousia smiled and then picked up her trident. She used it to help support her weight on her injured body.

Dufaii rushed to her opposite side to help stabilize her as she walked. So much had changed, and yet here she was with a walking staff, listening to Dufaii begin to talk about how to fly—hinting at the lessons soon to come. But now, her body was finally right, she had people who loved her, and a pet Hydra staying close behind.

So, who was Exousia now, with so much that had changed and so much that had stayed the same? Perhaps it was easiest to explain in the names that others called her and that she used for herself. She’d once been called Emma, though human pilgrims would always call her the Spirit of the Forest. The police who never fully resolved the mysteries of her life closed the books on the serial killer known as the Woodcutter. Once, she had been known by Heaven and Hell as the Creator’s Champion. Now, the angels would call her the Patron Saint of the Damned while the demons preferred Lightbringer. But she preferred the name given to her by Ammon—the demon who had once been her enemy and greatest teacher—a name he’d chosen in honor of Dufaii. It meant the power of choice, even when that didn’t seem possible.

That name was Exousia.