Every Grain of Sand
Author: Matt Dinniman
Date: 2020-01-31 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Life was boot camp, death a one-way ticket to the war. For so many of this world, the idea of an afterlife is a comforting one. You live, you die, and you are rewarded with an eternity of joy and peace. But for Indigo, life after death is a nightmare beyond comprehension. Naked, afraid, and with only snippets of memory, she comes into the afterlife to find that Heaven is in ruins, and the angels are gone, hunted to the brink of extinction. Terrible monsters roam free. Demons control the sky. The great city burns. God is gone. Humans, the ones who are caught, are nothing more than livestock. A
Publisher: Dandy House

The Shivered Sky Trilogy

Every Grain of Sand – January 2020

In the City of Demons – February 2020

The Great Devouring Darkness – March 2020

E-Edition

EVERY GRAIN OF SAND: THE SHIVERED SKY PART 1 © 2020 by Matt Dinniman

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. No angels, demons, or children were harmed in the creation of this book.

This new, revised, three-part edition of THE SHIVERED SKY is a re-edit of the novel, The Shivered Sky, originally published in 2003. This new edit of the original novel is the author’s preferred edition of this story. Plus, he actually gets paid for this one.

For permissions, please contact dinniman@gmail.com

DANDY HOUSE

Created with Vellum

Contents

Note

1. The Girl

2. Rico

3. Hitomi

4. Dave - Reeka

5. Gramm - The Unraveler

6. Indigo - Ungeo

7. Ungeo - Hitomi - Hekka

8. Dave

9. Indigo - The Hashmallim

10. Indigo - Yehppael

11. Rico - Ungeo

12. Hekka - Rico

13. Rico - Levi - Tamael

14. Levi - The Hashmallim - Tamael

15. Rico - Tamael

16. Hitomi - Yehppael

17. Tamael - Hitomi

18. Tamael - Dave - the Overseer

19. Dave - Tamael

Books by Matt Dinniman:

Glossary of Terms

Note

At the end of this book is a glossary of terms and characters and creature types.

1

The Girl

With death came life.

The young woman opened her eyes, and she blinked in the strange light. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms. A gentle breeze caressed lightly across her back and shoulders. A feeling of peace settled on her.

But then, gradually, the serenity of the moment faded as she realized she was completely naked. And she had no idea where she was.

Calm down. Take a deep breath, look around.

All around her stretched an infinite beach of white sand, flanked by a neverending ocean so still, so blue that fear overwhelmed her. But even more disturbing was the sky. It was dark crimson, like blood spilled across clear glass. There was no sun, yet there was light. The beach stretched far behind her, sloping up until it disappeared into a dark, foreboding haze. The only sound was her quick, frantic breathing, and it was unnatural and loud in the complete silence.

How did she get here? She searched her recent memory, and with a terrible, almost choking horror she realized she didn't have any memory at all. She jumped to her feet then, frantically looking around.

She took a step and realized she was standing upon something solid. Beneath her bare feet was a small platform of beige marble tiles, covered with a light dusting of sand. At each corner of the platform was a broken, jagged stump, about waist high, as if columns once stood there, but they had long since been broken. She ran her hand across one. A quick jolt of electricity shocked her. She jerked back with a yelp.

“Hello?” she called. The words sounded odd, tinny. “Hello?”

She wrapped her arms around her chest. Her hands shook. She desperately tried to remember something, anything.

I can't just stand here like an idiot. I have to do something.

She moved to the edge and stepped off. She immediately sank to her ankles in the sand. The fine grains were silken, almost a liquid, unnaturally warm. She sensed the ground wasn't solid, like the sand was actually much deeper. She stepped again. She was swallowed another inch. She waded about twenty feet out, but she became hopelessly bogged down, the sand sucking at her legs, trying to draw her in.

New panic filled her as she realized she was trapped. I can't even get away. Is this some sort of prison? Defeated, she turned back to the platform.

Two people now sat there, their sudden appearance so utterly surprising, she took a step back into the unforgiving sand. The newcomers were a pair of boys. White boys. One was about sixteen years old with scraggly blond hair. He jumped to his feet, looking around like a cornered animal. The other was only slightly older with shoulder-length brown hair, and his naked body was rail-thin, his rib bones almost pushing through his chest. He stood slowly, a grin on his face. He was tall, towering over the other boy.

Both of them turned to see each other and realizing that they were naked, quickly crossed their legs and covered themselves with their hands. They hadn't noticed her yet, but she panicked, pulling her arm over her chest. She had the urge to allow the sand to swallow her.

But her fear quickly turned to relief. They're people like me. They just had the same thing happen to them. Still keeping her hand over her chest, she trudged toward them. She called out, and both turned and watched. She didn't like their eyes on her naked body. The tall one with the long hair held out his hand for her as she returned to the marble. She awkwardly grasped onto him, trying to cover her chest and cross her legs as much as she could. His grip was strong. He smiled, showing a row of straight, white teeth.

“Gramm,” he said. “That's my name. Gramm.”

“Hi.” She kept her eyes averted, and thankfully he was doing the same. “Do you… Do you know what's going on?”

“Of course,” he said.

The other boy put his hands to his head. “This isn't fucking happening.”

She looked back and forth between the two. “What? I don't remember anything. Do I know you people?”

The blond-haired boy's eyes were wild with fear. He stopped covering himself and waved his arms. “I am not here. I can't be. There was a man. He saw me. He was going for help.”

Gramm put his hand on the boy's shoulder. “You are here, mate. Whatever happened to you, it's over now.” His accent was much different than hers. Australian.

Gramm smiled sadly. “I knew I was dying. I think that's why it's easier for me.”

The blond boy sat, tucking his head into his knees. He rocked back and forth, crying. “Why?” he whispered. “I can't believe it. Holy fuck. Mom's gonna freak out.”

“What's your name?” Gramm asked the boy.

“David,” he whispered, still crying. “Dave.”

She took a step back. Her mouth was dry, terribly dry, and her words wavered with fear. “What are you talking about? Where are we?”

The boy named Dave looked at her, his eyes still wild. “Don't you get it? We are dead.”

They stared at each other. Her own nakedness momentarily forgotten. She allowed it to sink in. She felt as if a giant rock had been dropped right onto her chest. “Do I look dead to you?”

Dave pointed up to the red, sunless sky. “Does that look like Earth to you?”

“No. That's impossible.” Everything spun. Suddenly she was on her knees, and her heart which had been thrashing about so quickly and irregularly was trying to now escape out of her chest and up her throat. Dead? Her fingertips tingled.

“Well,” Gramm said, sitting next to her. “I know two things. One, I'm dead. And two, I am here.” He put his hand on her knee, and it was reassuring despite their nakedness. He had a strong smell to him, like freshly cut grass.

Her limbs were numb. “I don't remember anything, but you do. Why?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

Dave stood, flexing his arm. Tears still streamed down his face, and he was shaking, too. “My arms have gotten so big.”

She stared at his crotch. She couldn't help it. I've never seen anyone naked before. He noticed and quickly covered himself with his hand, his cheeks burning red.

“I think this part got smaller,” he said sheepishly.

To her surprise, she laughed. Loudly. It's not even that funny. She pictured an older woman nodding approvingly. “Laugh anyway,” the woman said. “Always laugh when you can, Indy.” Her heart leaped, something to grasp onto.

“Indy,” she said suddenly. “That's my name. Indigo.”

Dave rubbed his nose. “Are you sure? That's a weird name.”

“I'm sure,” she whispered. “Indigo,” she repeated.

“Well that proves it,” Gramm said. “Your memory is coming back.” The thin Australian was so confident while she and Dave were absolute wrecks. He wasn't afraid at all. The boy had a charisma about him that was alluring, and it made her trust him.

“Please, what is this place?” she asked him.

A penetrating light burst on the center of the platform, like a camera's flash, causing them all to jump. Indigo let out a cry. A burning… something appeared. She gasped. A skeleton. A burning skeleton, prostrate on the tiles. Indigo skittered back, her stomach tightening.

Dear god, what now? The burning form moved. First it was slow and erratic, like it was controlled by a drunken puppeteer. Then the movements became quicker, jerky and wild. Its mouth opened, as if to scream. But the only sound was the click-clicking of the bones scraping together, the sound of drumsticks hitting each other in a frenzied dissonance.

The flames whiffed out in a sudden puff of smoke. An acrid smell rose, like burned sausage.

Organs took form within the rib cage, growing. A slight scream emanated from the open jaw, and the blood-curdling cry grew until it filled the silence. Flesh spread across the body, like spilled paint, and hair sprouted from the head.

A girl. Young and Asian, about sixteen, petite with tiny road bumps for breasts. Her hair grew to be long and straight. She stopped wailing after a minute. Finally, she stopped. She looked at the three of them, eyes wide. She rolled over and curled into a fetal position, weeping.

“Shit,” Gramm whispered, his voice cracking. He didn't sound so confident anymore.

Swallowing her fear, Indigo moved to the girl and tentatively touched her shoulder. What just happened? The skin felt like ice. “Are you all right?”

The girl didn't stop crying. Indigo looked back at Gramm and Dave for help.

“What's that smell?” a new voice asked, a thick Spanish accent. “Hey! Where're my clothes!”

A Hispanic boy sat to her right, wide eyes staring directly at her chest. He just appeared out of nowhere, as the others had. He had short, curly hair and was a little pudgy. Easily the youngest so far, about fourteen. Indigo squeezed her arms tightly around her chest again.

“Where am I?” the new boy said looking around wildly. “Where's my chair?”

As Gramm and Dave began to quietly speak to the boy, Indigo turned back to the girl. Her eyes were clenched shut, but the tears still wet her face. “Are you okay?”

The girl slowly opened her almond-shaped eyes. “It was horrible,” she whispered.

Indigo moved the hair from the girl's face and placed it behind her ear. She was very pretty. “It's all over now.” But it wasn't over, was it? They were trapped here. Any more people and this platform would soon be too crowded.

“It took longer than I thought. I would have done it differently if I knew it was going to hurt so much.”

The words were like frost. “Don't worry about that anymore. You're here now.”

“Where?” the girl asked, her voice trembling, looking around. She seemed to suddenly realize that she, too, was naked and pulled her own arms around herself, unsuccessfully trying to cover her chest, crotch, and behind all at once.

“I don't know,” Indigo said. “We're on a beach.”

“I ain't standing up,” the Hispanic boy was saying, his agitated voice rising.

“Just try it, Rico,” Gramm said.

“You all speak Japanese,” the girl said, suddenly surprised. “But you're black.”

“I'm not. I'm…” But as she spoke the words, she felt them rearrange as they came out of her mouth. It wasn't English either. It was a different, silvery language. Light and musical. That's why her voice sounded different. So strange.

“Do you remember your name?” Indigo asked.

She softly sighed. There was a lot of sadness in the girl's voice, a deep well of hurt. “Hitomi.”

“Holy crap!” the new boy exclaimed loudly. He was now standing, unashamed. Despite his husky build, his arms seemed extremely strong. Bigger even than Dave's.

As Indigo tried desperately to find another strand of memory to grasp onto, she watched the others begin to deal with their own deaths. The blond Dave looked trampled upon, completely defeated, and Gramm just continued to smile.

The young Rico walked around in circles, his hands trembling, talking to himself. With nothing but the strange, unmoving ocean and the blood-red sky behind him, the boy looked out of place. He cast an occasional, sidelong glance at Hitomi, but he looked away when he noticed Indigo watching him. Hitomi had stopped crying, but now she just stared at the haze, her eyes bottomless pits of pain.

Rico moved to the edge of the platform to touch one of the four jagged stumps.

“Don't,” Indigo said. “It'll shock you.”

He reached forward to touch it anyway. Nothing happened.

“No it won't,” he said.

Indigo sighed. How do you deal with something like this? She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be acting. She was dead. It seemed to be the only explanation, and the others all accepted it. The fear was still a living thing in her chest and stomach, but a terrible curiosity grew as well. How did it happen?

Hitomi suddenly sat up, her hand searching around her neck, as if looking for a necklace that wasn't there. “

We're in hell,” she said.

“No,” Gramm said forcefully, immediately, as if he had been expecting someone to say it. “Past this beach is a forest, and a path. It leads to the great city.”

Everyone stopped at that. “What? How do you know? Have you been here before?” Indigo asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “The last few years I've been having dreams. There's a forest. Beyond that a city. The buildings are huge. It's the city of Heaven.”

Rico's eyes moved from Hitomi's breasts to Gramm. “Just one city?”

“That's all I've seen,” Gramm said. “But it's a city larger than all of Australia. And it's filled with angels with great wings. There are floating gardens hundreds of kilometers long. There are zoos, theaters, a silver train that's faster than an airplane. And in the middle is a tower that reaches far into the sky.”

His words filled Indigo with hope, extinguishing the fear, but she was still skeptical, afraid to believe. “You're not making this up?”

“It's why I'm not freaking out. There was something else, too. There was always a voice in my dreams. It said the same thing every time. 'You are the Navigator. Lead them here.'“

“Lead us where?” Dave asked.

“I guess I have to help everyone get to the city. It's pretty far away.”

“Why don't they send an angel or something?” Dave asked. His tears had stopped, but his words still trembled. “We're never going to get out of here.” He motioned to Indigo. “We can't cross the sand. She already tried.”

Indigo nodded. She didn't want to go out there again.

“Wait a second,” Dave said. “Aren't we angels now? Are we going to grow wings?”

“No,” Gramm said. “Angels are different.”

Dave pointed at Indigo's shoulder. “It looks like she is.”

She reached back, and sure enough a round, two-inch scar blazed on the back of both of her shoulder blades. Did she have them before? What did it mean? None of the others had it. So strange.

“Hey guys,” Rico said loudly. “Check this out.”

He pulled at one of the marble tiles, the one right in the center. Dave quickly moved to help. They both grunted as the thick rock yawned upward. Finally, it moved over with a loud clunk.

“Look, there's a stairway,” Rico said excitedly.

Hitomi moved to the stairs, peering into the darkness. “Do you think there'll be clothes?”

“I don't know if that's where we're supposed to go,” Gramm said. “I never saw anything like this in my dreams.”

Hitomi had already disappeared down the stairs. Dave and Rico followed.

“It smells like socks in here,” Rico said from inside. His voice echoed.

“Come on,” Indigo said. “Let's go.”

“Maybe I should wait out here,” Gramm said, reluctant.

Indigo looked up at the tall boy. “You're sure of where we are, right?”

He nodded, but his eyes were afraid.

No, don't be afraid, she wanted to cry out. You're the confident one. You're the reason I'm not in hysterics right now. She forced herself to smile.

“Come on. We'll stay close.”

2

Rico

Rico was scared. Damn scared. But he didn't want to show it, and the fact that he could now walk helped him hide that fear. Don't be a pussy. If this Gramm guy is right you've made it to the good place. The words of the Chinese chick still gave him the creeps. But if this was hell, why would they give him back his legs?

As a little kid he would sometimes sleep on the roof of his house, pulling himself up there only by the power of his arms. The nights were always hot and sticky, the bugs attacking him relentlessly. He'd stare at the dark sky and wonder about death. He thought of clouds and angels with harps and of a place where you were never hungry or scared all the time. He never imagined anything like this. He did not like being in situations where he didn't know what was going to happen. He didn't like feeling out of control, in a place where he could mess something up and people would laugh at him. He was terrified of what was to come. Already he knew this was no heaven like Padre Montamos said.

He still couldn't remember everything that had happened. All he could remember was the front wheel of his racing chair spinning. The sound of laughter echoing into the night.

They came to a cavernous room at the foot of the stairs. Hitomi explored down a single dark hallway followed by the buff white guy named Dave. A minute later, the tall black girl and the even taller Gramm came down.

What was her name? Indigo. There was something spooky about her. She didn't talk like no black girl he had ever met. She was smart, though. Rico could see it in her eyes. But she talked like an Anglo—even though they were all speaking some weird-ass language now. Her accent was white American and was unnatural on her. She walked like a white person, too.

Dave reappeared, grinning for the first time. He held a pile of clothes. Rico's enthusiasm died a bit when he saw what the clothes were. He had expected some Jedi-knight robes or something. This was like black body spandex. He picked up a pair, examining then sliding them on. It was better than being naked, but he felt stupid. There were cuts at the back in the shoulders. And they had feet like kiddy pajamas. Still, the clothes felt solid. The elastic material formed over his toes like steel boots. He kicked at the stone wall, and he didn't feel a thing.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “High tech.”

“There's a small room just down the hall. It's filled with these. There's some other stuff in there we should check out,” Dave said.

“Do you think we should be just taking these?” Gramm asked. But he put his suit on just as quickly as the others. He worried over everything like an old lady.

The chamber suddenly filled with a brilliant yellow light. The shadows fled like cockroaches. Rico jumped, then tripped over his own feet. His suit shielded the pain of the fall, but it did nothing to cushion his ego. Dave laughed, twisting the knife some more. He stood and brushed himself off, glaring.

Hitomi emerged from the hallway. She wore a suit and held a metal briefcase. She wasn't smiling. She didn't look like someone who could smile. Like an emotionless robot. “I found the light switch.”

“No shit,” Rico muttered, embarrassed. Gramm shot him an angry scowl. He almost said something back at the tall Australian, but then he noticed the walls. They were covered with pictures. Like the stuff you'd see in history books. Caveman drawings.

Rico walked up to one of the images. They were out of place here. He traced his fingers along the etchings, trying to figure out what the picture was.

Indigo stood beside him. She smelled of flowers. It was nice. After a minute she said, “It's an angel.”

He took a step back, reveling in the simple motion. “I don't see it.”

“It's on fire.”

“Whoa.”

She was right. It all came into focus. It was a crude drawing of a winged man holding a big-ass sword. He was consumed in flames, and the grimace on his face was agonizing. Rico could feel it. The wings were pretty bizarre-looking, made of smoke.

Hitomi and Dave tried to open the suitcase thing Hitomi had found. There was a handle on it, but no latch.

“Maybe it's not meant to be opened,” Gramm said.

But Dave wouldn't give up. “Well it's not just a metal box. They wouldn't put a handle on it if it didn't do anything.”

Rico returned his attention to the pictures. He had to look real hard at each one before he could make out the bloody image. They were mostly of angels in various states of death. Some were impaled on swords or long spears. Others were consumed by fire. Lightning struck a male and female pair. It was damn creepy.

He looked uneasily at the others.

On the other wall was a great mural that didn't help. He had to step back a couple of times to see the whole thing. It depicted a war between two huge armies of angels. On the left side, the injured seemed to fall and vanish, leaving nothing but their empty robes and weapons to fall to the ground below. On the other, the fallen transformed into demonic creatures. Some looked like wingless lizard men. Or frogs with gigantic arms. Or the red horned devils you see in movies. Fissures opened in the ground to devour them.

“This is some crazy shit,” Rico muttered. He glanced at Indigo, who looked real hard at the picture too. “Do you think this really happened?”

A low, booming voice filled the chamber, echoing off the wall. “Of course it happened, though it was very long ago.”

Hitomi let out a surprised shriek. Rico jumped at the sound, and his legs buckled when he landed. He quickly pulled himself up, but no one laughed this time.

The suitcase had opened like a steel bear trap. Inside, a miniature holographic angel stood. The man glared at Rico. The angel wore black plate armor and a helmet. Slung over his shoulder was a long rifle with a wide muzzle. Long, light-colored hair cascaded down his shoulders. The misty wings spread out far beyond the length of the open suitcase, and the tendrils waved lazily like ocean plants.

“That is wild,” Dave said. He poked through the image with his finger.

The hologram took off his helmet and dropped it to the imaginary ground. His tiny eyes glowed with anger. “Where is your Principality? I demand to speak to him now.”

“Our what?” Dave said.

The angel had a perfectly square jaw and bushy, arched eyebrows. The muscle in his cheek twitched with annoyance. He looked around, scowling at each of them. “Go back up and tell the Keeper to come down.”

“Up where?” Rico asked. “You mean up to the beach? Man, there ain't no one up there,” Rico said.

The angel looked incredulous. “I am the commander of this section. And I would never allow a platform beacon to go unguarded.”

“We're the only ones here,” Gramm said. “And like, uh, Rico says, if you're talking about upstairs, it's abandoned, and it's almost buried under the sand.”

The angel blinked. “What sand?”

“I don't think he knows where he is,” Dave muttered.

Oh man, that pissed him off. “You do not speak to me like that, human.” He growled the word like it was something foul. “I am an anima bot. I always know exactly where I am.”

Indigo stepped forward. “You may know where we are, but this place is buried in sand. And there is no one else here.”

“I no longer wish to speak with you. I shall now summon myself.”

Indigo strode forward, grabbed the suitcase by the handle, and dragged it toward the stairs. The angel protested loudly. Rico was the first to follow. At the top, Indigo flung the suitcase about two feet out. It landed so the horrified-looking hologram was at an angle. It flicked imaginary sand from its armor.

Its demeanor instantly changed. “Get me out of here. And get back into the chamber before you're seen. Now.”

Gramm moved to fish the suitcase out of the sand, but Indigo stopped him. “No,” she said, holding up her hand. “First, you answer my questions.”

“Filthy Human.” The hologram ripped his gun off his shoulder as if he wanted to put a few holes in her. Rico took a few steps back just in case he could. “If you do not remove me from this sand and get yourself under cover right now, you will likely experience a death so painful and drawn out, your human mind couldn't fathom it.”

“Do not threaten me,” Indigo said, getting madder by the moment. Rico took back his earlier thought that she reminded him of a white chick.

“I thought we were already dead,” Dave mumbled.

“The danger does not come from me,” the angel said. The vaporous wings straightened and whooshed up and down angrily. If he had been full-sized, the motion would be downright terrifying.

“Where are we?” Indigo demanded.

“Just beyond Cibola, of course,” the angel said. “Now pick me up and…” He paused. He turned to an invisible companion. “What do you mean you can't locate me?”

A pause while everyone looked at each other, bewildered. Rico's uneasy feeling grew.

“Ping it again.”

A moment later the angel's shoulders slumped, and the gun clattered to the holographic ground. His wings drooped like wet rags. “Oh… oh no,” he said, looking around the beach. He turned to Indigo, looking crushed. His voice was suddenly gentle. “It'd be best if you got back inside. You'll find passage to the forest from there. Be wary. I'm sure… Reach the city. Its walls are extraordinarily strong, you know. Goodbye.”

He wrapped his wings around himself, the tendrils covering his body like a mummy. A single, angry spark burst forth, and the suitcase exploded. Just like that. The damn thing blew like an M-80. Pieces of electronics scattered with a loud, choking bang of black smoke. Rico's forehead exploded with pain, like he had been punched right in the forehead. It burned. He quickly extracted a triangular sliver of hot metal from his head. He dropped the still-glowing chunk of metal, his fingers burning. It hurt like hell.

“Is everyone okay?” Indigo asked.

Rico tasted the warm salt of blood as it reached his lips. He was bleeding pretty bad, but it was a scalp wound. Those always bled a lot. His fingers stung too.

“You're bleeding,” Gramm said. “How can that be?” An edge of panic laced his words. He waved his arms like a chicken. “How can you be bleeding?”

Rico shrugged. “I'm bleeding because that dude's suitcase blew up! Why do you think I'm bleeding?”

“We need to assume we can get hurt here just as easily as we could before,” Indigo said. She examined Rico's forehead, a motherly-type concern etched on her face. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he lied.

The cut wasn't that serious after all. It stopped bleeding after a minute, and the pain went away soon after that. The hurt just faded away as if it had never been there. His fingers stopped hurting, too. Dave looked at the wound with wonder and said the cut had completely healed up.

“What was that thing?” Gramm asked. “Did you see his gun?”

“It was an angel,” Rico said. “He was an asshole.”

“But was it real? It was like a computer simulation of one,” Dave said, scratching his blonde hair. It sounded like someone walking on dried grass. “It was strange.”

Rico nodded. “I think you're right. It was probably broken. That's why it was left here. That's why it blew up.” Panic welled up in him, but he pushed it away, embarrassed to let the others see it. He didn't want them to think he was a wimp. If that thing had been an angel, why was it such a jerk? It just didn't make sense. Nothing here did.

“How did you turn it on?” Indigo asked Hitomi.

“I didn't,” she said. “It opened by itself.”

“I… I don't understand,” Gramm said. “I've never heard of Cibola before.” He was suddenly sweaty, like he was nervous.

Indigo put her hand on Gramm's shoulder. He smiled at her weakly. “Remember your dream. This is the same place. I'm sure Cibola is just what they call it here.”

“That angel seemed to think something was wrong,” Gramm said. “It said we weren't safe.”

“Like Rico said, it was probably broken,” Indigo said. She didn't sound convinced herself.

Rico couldn't stop thinking about it. If even the angels were bad, what was left? Be brave, be brave. You have your legs back now. Remember what you used to say? You'd give anything to be able to run again.

“I want to go home,” he felt himself whisper.

Something inside of him just snapped, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the sob from escaping. And after that, the rest came easily. His pride burned, but his fear was brighter, the most intense feeling he'd ever known. Indigo came forward, pulled him into a hug. He clutched onto her.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, sobbing into her bodysuit.

“We all do,” she said, stroking his hair.

3

Hitomi

When Hitomi closed her eyes, she could still feel the fire burning her skin. Ripping, peeling, bubbling. A pain so intense, it burned away her very soul. She was different. They knew it too, though they said nothing. She was the outcast. She could see it in their eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding onto her shoulders. Her entire body felt hollow. She knew what it was like to die. She shuddered when she thought about what had happened next.

Hitomi had been the one to find the utility room with the hologram unit. Several flashlights were scattered across the floor, along with piles of the clothes they now wore. There was also the black plate on the wall. The lights had turned on after she placed her hand on it. It seemed someone else had been in there recently, too, because a few grains of sand littered the floor, as if they had been trailed in.

As Rico cried, as he and Indigo clutched onto each other like they were both drowning, Hitomi couldn't help but feel a stab of envy. She wanted to go to them both, join their embrace. But she wouldn't know how to do it, what to say, how to feel.

The others talked about the holographic angel as they went back down the stairs and searched the utility room. They were worried. But to Hitomi, it was a relief. It meant that maybe they weren't in the hell after all. Maybe there was no such place. She sighed. Too much thinking, not enough action, her father would say. They would find out in time.

“What do you think this does?” Dave asked, holding up a device that resembled a stun gun. He pressed a button, and electricity sparked. “Cool,” he said.

“We need a map,” Indigo said. “Most of this stuff is useless.”

“How do you know it's useless if you don't know what it does?” Rico asked, picking up a double-ended sledgehammer. He threw it down with a clank. “These are all maintenance tools.” Rico tried to make his voice confident, like he hadn't just broken down. It reminded Hitomi of her own little brother, and she knew Rico was probably embarrassed.

The suits had an expandable pouch on the back with a slit on the side for access, and Dave shoved the zapper in. When the pocket closed, it sealed tightly against the back, the air mysteriously drawn out. They filled their packs with whatever they could take: a length of black cord, all the flashlights. Indigo picked up something that looked like a bulky compass, but no characters were etched on it, and the needle was constantly wavering. She tossed it away.

They headed down the wide hall, which sloped slightly downwards. Hitomi and Indigo led the way. The smell of must permeated the air, almost overpowering. Everyone was scared. They didn't say it, but Hitomi could feel it. It made her feel better. The lights behind them eventually dimmed, and Hitomi pulled one of the flashlights from her pack. There was no switch, but she figured out how to turn it on by squeezing the handle. The brilliant white light shone like it had a miniature sun in it.

“You could x-ray somebody with that thing,” Rico said.

Indigo tried hers but couldn't get it to work. Hitomi led the way.

The further they went, the mustier it became. It was colder, too. They walked mostly in silence, except Dave and Rico, who talked about their family and homes. Dave came from the American state of Alaska, and Rico was from a sleepy village near the capital of Mexico. They marveled at their ability to talk to each other even though they spoke different languages. Gramm mentioned something about speaking in “Tongues.” Hitomi didn't know what to think of it. It was too overwhelming.

No one mentioned their own death. Thank goodness. Hitomi was curious, but if the others offered their stories, she'd be pressured to tell hers. She'd have to relive it.

After about an hour of walking, the slope leveled off, and the long hallway tightened. Soon, they had to travel single file. Hitomi took the lead. It became clear that Gramm was afraid of the dark, and Rico was claustrophobic. They both began to complain and talk about going back. The stone walls became less polished, like they had been hastily built. The others behind her scraped against the walls.

“You're so quiet,” Dave said to her.

His voice startled her. She turned, and he was right behind her. He smiled. It was crooked on his face, almost goofy looking. His features weren't fine like her boyfriend Nigel's were. They were broad and strong, very American looking.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Well, what're you thinking about?” he asked.

She didn't like people asking her that. It was rude. Her mother did that all the time.

“Nothing.”

“I don't believe that for a second,” he said, the slight grin spreading. “It's always the quiet ones who think the most.”

“Not me,” she said, turning, trudging forward. The empty feeling inside of her was more pronounced, like the void within was getting wider by the moment.

It seemed as if an hour passed. Then another. Still they walked, no longer speaking at all, not daring to stop. They were obviously beyond the beach now, in a passage buried deep under the ground. It had to lead somewhere. Didn't it?

She thought about what American boy had said. She thought about the tugging within her, sucking her inward. She was afraid, but the feeling was almost cold, impassive. More instinct than genuine emotion. She was less of a living thing than she used to be. She didn't just have an empty feeling. She was hollow.

Then, the end of the tunnel.

It was still far off, but it brightened their spirits. She imagined what it was like to be lost in a desert, finally to find an oasis. It was like a pinprick in the distance, offering only a hint of light. They quickened their pace, but it still took another indeterminable amount of time to finally reach the exit. She pushed her way out.

Thick vines grew over the hole. If they had to come back, they would have trouble finding it again. Hitomi stepped from the tunnel and into the warm, fresh air. She stretched her arms. They had come out on the other side of the mist, right into a clearing in the forest Gramm had spoken of.

But to call it a forest would be an understatement.

The shroud of claustrophobia lifted and was replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Each of the closely-packed trees made the redwoods of America look like shrubs. She had seen those huge trees on the internet and thought nothing could possibly be bigger. She was wrong. The base of one of the skinny ones looked to be about a quarter of a kilometer wide, and it rose beyond her vision into the darkness.

If they weren't so beautiful, their size alone would be terrifying. Like the legs of silent, unmoving giants, so tall and tremendous, they couldn't possibly be aware of the five humans emerging at their feet. She couldn't see any branches or leaves, but they were up there somewhere, blocking out most of the light—except for a small round hole which illuminated the clearing, like a skylight. There was normal-sized underbrush as well. Four-meter-high trees strangled the scant spaces between their big brothers. She would have to continue to use her flashlight. Brown, feather-shaped leaves the size of city buses littered the ground and occasionally fell, crashing.

“Now I know how bugs feel,” Rico said, eyes huge with wonder.

“Holy shit, man,” Dave muttered, turning in circles. “Holy shit.”

It was a different world than the beach. A constant hum electrified the air, like the trees teemed with locusts. It was warmer, and humid, too. Standing on the beach had made Hitomi feel tiny because the eerie uniformity stretched out in every direction. This gave the same feeling, but in a different way. Rico was right. She felt like a bug.

“Let's rest a minute,” Indigo said. Rico plopped down on top of a fallen leaf, followed by Gramm. It supported their weight. She sat next to them, relieved for the rest. Dave walked around a little, exploring.

“It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while,” Dave said, bending down on one knee to examine the foliage. He picked up a scraggly twig and snapped it in half, looking at the broken piece. “This wood is different than anything I've ever seen.” Hitomi rubbed her hand along the leaf, and it was smooth like plastic.

“I seen this movie once,” Rico said, “where these people get shipwrecked on this island, and everything's bigger. They have giant chickens and stuff there. And giant crabs, too.”

“Giant chickens?” Gramm asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, the thing comes out of nowhere and eats a bunch of 'em.”

Gramm looked sick.

“Hey, look at this,” Dave said, emerging with a round chunk of metal in his hands. It was a sort of old helmet, but it was much too large to fit any of their heads. He brushed some moss off it. “It's really light.” Several scorch marks marred the silver exterior. Various worm-sized holes peppered it.

The sight of it surprised Hitomi. She didn't want to think about what really wore that. It was different than the helmet the holographic angel had worn. This was more sinister-looking, and it made her uneasy.

“Whoa,” Rico said, jumping up. “Put it on your head.”

“No way,” Dave said. He peered uncertainly into the opening. “What if there's brain goo or something?” He shoved it at Rico. “You try it on.”

He took a step back. “I ain't touching that thing.”

Indigo grabbed it from Dave's hands. “You guys are all wimps,” she said, only half-jokingly. “It's just an old lump of metal,” she said, lowering the huge helmet over her head. It was so large, it covered her shoulders.

“See?” Her eyes and nose were behind the metal. “Whoever wore this was huge!”

The helmet hummed. A clear screen whirred down over the opening. It emerged from within the metal. The visor was cracked. Indigo quickly ripped the helmet off and threw it. Sparks shot from it. The visor attempted to retract, but the glass cracked some more, and a jagged piece fell off. The humming stopped.

“That thing almost melted your face off!” Rico said.

“Okay, new rule,” Indigo said. “From now on, we don't touch anything.”

Hitomi nodded her assent with the others. They rested for a long time, only Rico and Dave talking. It was clear that whatever each of them had expected, it certainly wasn't this. She stared long and hard at the helmet, wondering what it meant.

Hitomi got a chance to see some of the creatures of the forest. Mostly bugs, like mutant dragonflies, and a few purple ladybugs that buzzed like chainsaws through the air. Some were as big as her fist. An occasional deep roar or high-pitched howl shattered the air. Whenever that happened, they looked at each other uneasily. She suddenly had an urge to go back into the tunnel.

“I guess we better get going,” Indigo said after a while.

“Maybe we should make camp here for the night,” Dave said suddenly. “We don't know when—or if—it gets dark here. I'm not... I'm not tired, but I'd rather be in a familiar place if it starts to get dark.” Something roared in the distance to accentuate his point. He pointed at a cluster of normal-sized trees. “That trail hasn't been made by man. It's a game trail. We don't want to be on it at night.”

Dave had been uneasy and kind of dopey before, but here he seemed at home. Hitomi knew Alaska was mostly wilderness. She hadn't even noticed the obscure trail leading away from the entrance to the tunnel.

“I haven't had to take a piss the entire time I've been here,” Rico said. “But I am tired, but not sleepy tired, know what I mean? It's different here.” Everyone nodded.

“I'm not hungry at all,” Gramm said.

Hitomi wasn't either, now that she thought about it. And she didn't even have any dinner last night. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“We can't wait forever for night. We continue,” Indigo said. And just like that, she headed off toward the trail.

Rico shrugged and followed along with Gramm. Dave, grumbling, went after them. Hitomi, not wanting to be left behind, had to sprint to catch up.

Although it wasn't as dark as the tunnel, they still needed the flashlight once they left the clearing. Each of them took their lights from their packs, but Hitomi was the only one to get hers to work. At first they thought all of them were broken, but Hitomi tried each one, and they all turned on. Between the five of them, they had a total of twelve of the long, black flashlights. She tried showing them how to squeeze the handle, but no one could do it right. Indigo got a short blast out of hers, but the effort seemed to wind her.

Even in this, I'm different. Hitomi was forced to lead the way, but she kept losing the thin, almost invisible trail. Dave corrected her as she strayed off course. Gramm seemed to think they were going in the right direction, but he kept muttering about how huge the forest was.

Hitomi knew she should be fatigued by now, but her body kept plodding away. Like Rico had said, she was tired, but only a little.

Her mind wandered back to her last few months in Osaka. She willed the thoughts away, but they wouldn't go. It seemed inevitable that she would have to live this over again. And again. Even in death, I still must face it.

* * *

Nigel had Facetimed while she was out with her brother. He had gotten the time zones messed up again. She'd left her tablet at home. The angry look on her father's face told it all. He'd must have seen the notification.

Oh no. Her little brother saw the storm brewing and fled to his room. “My daughter is not to speak with this boy again! Do you understand?” Hitomi lowered her head in deference, her heart pounding. “Yes, father.”

She sat there for several long minutes while he berated her. Each accusation and criticism was like a physical blow. Tears streamed down her face. Poor, sweet Nigel. He was always getting the time difference wrong.

“I should never have allowed you to go to that school. You have been corrupted by them,” Father said. “Furthermore, I have spoken with this boy's parents. And they agree. He won't be allowed to message you. This boy is out of your life, and you must forget him.”

The tears continued to plop onto the floor. “But, father…”

“No,” he said loudly. There was a finality in the words, and they echoed through the room. A long moment of silence passed. Hitomi didn't move from her position. “I am through with you,” he said finally, leaving the room. His strong, musty scent remained, oppressive like a storm cloud, and she didn't move until even that was gone.

“Hitomichan, you must learn obedience,” her mother said later. “A good girl is obedient. A good girl is thoughtful to her father's wishes.”

But Hitomi's thoughts never left Nigel. How would she stay away? It was like being told she wasn't allowed to breathe.

* * *

As they walked, Hitomi became aware of the prowling creatures all around them. Indigo was constantly putting a firm hand on Hitomi's shoulder, telling her to turn off the light until the creatures passed. Once, something that felt like an octopus tentacle slithered by her leg, causing her to shriek out in surprise. But when she flashed the light down, it was gone. She had to constantly fight the urge to just run, run away. But there was nowhere to go.

In the distance, she caught sight of a sleek jaguar-like creature hanging on the trunk of an enormous tree. Not too close, but not nearly as far as she'd like. Her entire body went rigid at the sight of it. The animal was red like the sky of this world. It leaped from one massive tree trunk to another. It landed as if the vertical trunk was flat ground. It turned and bounded off.

“Just keep moving,” Dave said, his voice terrified. “Don't let it sense fear.”

Several other sounds surrounded them, like the scampering of feet. But whenever Hitomi turned toward the sound with the light, nothing would be there. Sometimes she would sweep the light through the trees, and they'd hear distant screaming, like the far-away creatures were afraid of the light.

After several more hours, they came to another clearing. This one was more spacious, and a bubbling, winding creek lazily drifted through. Soft, green grass grew on either side of the creek, and even a few purple orchids grew in tight clusters. The whole place had the sweet aroma of a flower shop. The constant tension of the forest's darkness finally caught up with her. Hitomi just wanted to curl up in the comforting grass and never move again.

Despite Gramm and Indigo's cautions, both Dave and Rico immediately dropped to their knees and began to hungrily drink from the shallow water. Rico leaned too far forward and fell in, causing a splash. He jumped out and shook his head.

“Don't laugh at me,” he said to Dave, who hadn't.

Hitomi suddenly felt parched, and she drank some as well. It was cold, too cold to not be ice, but it filled her with an incredible, golden warmth, spreading quickly from her stomach to the tips of her fingers. Each sip was as soothing as an eight-hour nap.

“I wish I had a canteen,” Rico said ruefully.

Dave skimmed his hand across the top of the creek after he finished drinking. “I wonder why it's so cold,” he whispered. He had kind of a strange, sad look in his eyes for just a moment.

A few minutes later, probably when it became clear the water wasn't going to kill them, Indigo drank some. Then a reluctant Gramm got on his knees.

After that, they sprawled out on the grass, resting and staring up into the red sky. “Do you think we missed the night?” Rico asked after awhile.

“I don't think there has been one. Maybe there never is night,” Gramm said. “In my dreams, it was never dark here. Not once.”

“Now I'm tired,” Indigo said. She yawned and turned on her side in the grass. “It just jumped up on me all of a sudden.”

“Yeah,” Rico said. “My body is giving out on me.” Gramm grunted in agreement.

“We shouldn't rest here for too long,” Dave said, a peculiar urgency in his voice, almost scared. “Not by the water. We can't sleep in this world anyway. We only rest.” His voice was confident, yet far away. He disproved his own words by falling fast asleep.

Hitomi closed her eyes. It was peaceful here. Somehow the slight breeze from the beach had made its way down through the opening in the trees, and it was a soft, sensuous hand on her face. Like a mother to a baby; or a lover, like Nigel, to his beloved. She drifted off to a place with no worries, no fears. There was no fire, no pain. No demons to carry her burning body from the fulminating darkness.

4

Dave - Reeka

Dave dreamt.

Running. Running. Running. His breath pounded like the low C on a piano, over and over. Through the bush, through the trees. Almost home. But the wolf was there. The wolf was always there. It was behind him, in front of him, everywhere. Its howl shattered the darkness. Suddenly close, its hot breath searing his neck.

Dave had to make it home. Sometimes he would make it. But these minor victories were actually a curse. They offered hope in a world that should be hopeless.

Right away he knew something was different. Although it was unmistakably a dream, it was more lucid. He felt his feet pounding against the forest floor as he ran. He felt the wind of trees whipping by. He sensed the individual sounds and smells. Usually when he ran, he was in the forests near his home in Alaska. These plants, these trees. They were bigger, different. Unfamiliar.

He quickened the pace, his body shuddering. The wolf, black like the absence of light, was on his heels. Its claws, the size of rakes, sparked against rocks, filling the air with the stench of burning needles and trees.

His shoulder exploded in a red puff, and he crumpled. He flipped over to face the dark wolf. His body wracked with the feeling of a hundred jagged fishhooks worming into his flesh. He sobbed, unable to fight. Here there was no dying, no dulling of the pain. It had never hurt like this before.

The creature towered over him, four times the size of a normal wolf. It was more vivid, more real than ever. Its red eyes glowed with victory, and the pungent stench of rotting meat made his eyes water. He fought the urge to vomit. The beast dug a heavy claw in his chest to pin him down.

But something was different this time. The creature customarily went right to work, slowly, but matter-of-factly. He reluctantly opened his eyes, and the wolf just stared intently at him, its head cocked to the side. Its claw ripped away, leaving four rivers of blood down his torso. Oh God, the pain. It sat down and continued to study him.

A new panic struck. What if this wasn't a dream at all? What if this was real?

“You have died,” the wolf said. The words were like a slap. It had never spoken before. And it was now clear the “it” was actually a she. She was speaking the strange angel language. Her voice was powerful, but musical. It made her even more menacing.

“Yes,” Dave ventured, his voice barely a squeak.

The creature's mouth turned down slightly. She stood, muscles rippling. She sniffed him several times, each snort like the blast of a bellows.

She turned and trotted off toward the darkness. Before she dissolved into the murk, she turned and whispered, her voice seasoned with venom.

“Welcome home.”

* * *

Dave awakened with a start. He wasn't screaming, but he was paralyzed. They were still sprawled on the green grass near the brook. Everyone was asleep. Crimson light streamed through the opening in the trees. He sat up, still quivering. A bizarre animal drank by the water. It was a mix of wild pig with the back legs of a kangaroo. It bounded off, making a chittering bird noise. He stood, his knees threatening to give out.

He tried to push the memory of the dream away. It didn't mean anything. It was just another nightmare. His shoulder ached with phantom pains. He checked to make sure his limbs were all still intact, and they were.

Just another dream. You dealt with them before, and you can deal with them here.

But the thoughts were not comforting. At first, he was certain they wouldn't have to sleep or eat. He still didn't have to use the bathroom. But it seemed everything here worked like home, but slower. Much slower. Except for the healing of wounds. The cut on Rico's forehead had closed up in minutes.

He decided to let them sleep, and he would watch over them.

Dave had a natural affinity to the wilderness. Almost like Buck in Call of the Wild. Sometimes when he'd be walking home through the woods, he'd get an incredible, rapturous feeling. His senses were stronger, more attuned. He was aware of every movement around him. At times like that he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the trees.

He'd been an Eagle Scout, and he had to endure the taunts of the rest of the football team, especially when he put the scout uniform on after practice. But Dave always took the abuse good-naturedly. He tried to keep a sense of humor. Don't let them know they're getting to you, his mom would say. Don't let them smell blood in the water. It was why he had so many friends.

But none of them knew about his double life. About the nightly terror and pain. As a child, he'd never dared go on a sleepover, making up excuse after excuse. When he was ten, he and his parents moved from an apartment to a home on acreage, just so the neighbors would stop calling the police. By the time he was twelve, just a year after his father had died, the night terrors became worse, more frequent.

Welcome home.

The words haunted him. What did it mean? Had he been here before? Like a reincarnation thing?

Just a dream. Dr. Metcalf had taught him to think that. To say it out loud if he could. “Just a dream,” he whispered.

He dipped his fingers into the freezing water. It gave him an uncomfortable déjà vu, but he didn't move them. We all have to die somehow.

He ventured upstream while keeping a watchful eye on the others. He still marveled at how gargantuan these trees were. They looked to be a trillion years old. He ran a hand across the gnarled bark of one on the edge of the clearing, merely the width of a football field. The wood crackled with energy, as if the tree breathed. It was an unsettling feeling, as if he was in the presence of royalty.

He turned back.

To his shock and dismay, three brown, imp-like creatures skulked through the clearing. Two sniffed at Rico, and the other closely examined Indigo. They looked to be almost human, but smaller. About four feet tall each. They had thin, elongated faces with gleaming teeth and clawed fingers. Like evil caricatures, a mix of human and weasel. Even from this distance, he could see their unwieldy, black eyes. Those eyes were lifeless pools of oil. Short, brown hair covered them. Each carried a spear several feet taller than themselves and wore a breastplate that looked to be made from the shell of a hulking black beetle.

Dave hid behind a bear-sized knot in the tree. He peered cautiously around the corner, hoping the shadows hid him. He pressed himself tight against the wood, his nose drawing in the warm, musky scent of the bark. He was wracked with guilt. He had only looked away for a second! Shit, shit, shit.

What am I going to do?

Maybe, he hoped, they'll just leave the others alone. One of them poked at Rico with the flat end of its spear. Dave cringed as the kid stirred. Three imps more appeared from the trees. They began talking animatedly to each other in a language he didn't understand.

Dace reached into the pouch on his back and pulled out the zapper he'd gotten from the storeroom.

“Wha… What the hell?” Rico sat up, looking at the six creatures with bewilderment. All six of them rushed at Rico, their spears leveled. “Get away from me!” he cried. They moved in. He crab-walked back, then slowly stood, his hands raised.

The others woke up with cries of surprise. They were herded together and surrounded. Several more of the creatures emerged from the woods. The imps began to argue amongst themselves.

Indigo was searching the trees with her eyes. She passed right over his hiding spot. She looked at Gramm and mouthed “Where's Dave?” He didn't acknowledge the question. Gramm seemed paralyzed with fear, like Dave had been when he woke from the dream.

Indigo's hand moved slowly to her backpack. Rico's did too.

What am I going to do? He was damn near hyperventilating. He couldn't just watch his new friends get skewered. He had to do something, anything. More of the things were arriving by the minute. But what could he do?

Indigo made the first move. The tall girl hit the ground, her legs doing splits like a professional cheerleader. In her hand was one of the long, black flashlights. She drove the chunk of metal upward into the crotch of one of the demons.

Rico jumped forward, also swinging a flashlight like a cudgel. Several spears jabbed forward at his chest, but the points bounced off against the jumpsuit. The beasts ran into the woods. But more were coming, shrieking like feedback from a guitar.

Shit. Dave shot from his hiding place, zapper in hand. He ran at full gallop. A primal scream welled up in his throat, and he let it go.

The demon Indigo had hit was unfazed by the blow to the crotch, but she spun quickly in a break-dance maneuver, her legs flying like tassels. She cut the legs from under the demon and stomped on his head all in a fluid motion. It was as if she had done this before. The sickening crunch echoed like a gunshot. She whirled to face four more.

Hitomi hadn't moved at all, and Gramm was finally reacting. He had a flashlight in his hand also, a look of absolute terror etched onto his face. He stood by Rico who was wildly swinging his flashlight, screaming obscenities.

Dave finally reached the fray. He jumped forward with the zapper, hitting the back of the neck of one of the weasel imps. It was like cutting paper with sharp scissors. He had locked his arm for the blow, but he cut right through, popping the head off like a beer cap. He had to struggle to keep his balance.

The flying head sprayed blood as it tumbled, and a fat glob splashed against Indigo's face. She cried out, stepping back. She wiped at it with her sleeve.

Gramm and Rico were barely holding off the creatures. One threw a spear right at Gramm's face, but he deflected it with his sleeve. He picked it up and hurled it back at the monsters, and they scattered away. It landed harmlessly in the grass.

The point of a spear bounced off the side of Dave's suit. He felt a slight pressure, but no pain. He swiped with his weapon and severed off the arm of the charging demon. It howled with pain and dropped to its knees. Indigo jumped forward and firmly kicked its head. Its neck snapped back with a crunch. Then it flopped over, dead.

“Shit that hurt,” she said, rubbing at her injury again. A quarter-sized burn was branded onto her face, shaped like the head of a trident.

The creatures moved to surround them from a distance. The five converged, unsure of what to do. Hitomi was now holding her own flashlight backward. The bright light kept flashing on and off in her nervous hands, the extremely bright light bouncing off her own chest. Almost fifty of the weasel men were now in the clearing, and more were coming.

“Everyone okay?” Dave asked.

“What the hell do you think?” Gramm said.

Indigo spat into her hand and rubbed her face. “There's too many. We're gonna have to run.”

“Our suits protect us,” Rico said, breathing heavily.

“Not our heads,” Indigo said.

“What the hell are they?” Gramm said. He twirled the flashlight in his hands nervously. The tall, Australian boy was almost crying.

Hitomi was crying, but she still clutched her meager weapon.

No one moved for an eternity. An eerie silence fell over the stalemate.

Then, loud roars filled the clearing. The sound filled Dave with dread, and all five of them huddled closer with terror. Two saddled, blood-red jaguars pounced from the darkness. Each held one of the creatures carrying a lance. These imps were much more impressive than the others. Their iridescent bug armor covered their chests, arms, and legs. Their helmets were the chitinous skulls of some unrecognizable bug. They were like evil knights in full regalia. The mounted imps lined up parallel with each other, lowering their lances.

“If you're gonna do it, then do it,” Indigo said, her voice a growl.

A demon to Dave's left cried in pain. He swirled to look, and half the creature's face and arm were gone! It screamed like a cat stuck in a lawnmower, clawing at itself frantically. Then it collapsed in a heap, its comrades quickly moving away in surprise.

Then another exploded in a burst of red, its breastplate falling to the ground.

“What's happening?” Rico muttered.

A third weasel cried out in pain, its arm completely gone.

Dave realized what was doing it.

Hitomi's flashlight! She held it backward, and it occasionally flashed on. Her body blocked most of the beam, but what did shine through killed the weasel men! Not just killed, though.

It erased them.

Rico saw it too. “Hitomi,” he yelled. “Your flashlight is hurting them! Use it, like a gun!”

She looked at him in confusion.

The jaguars charged.

“Shoot them,” Dave screamed.

Hitomi swung the light toward the two knights, cutting an arc of carnage through the weasels. The beam hit the knights, and they were just gone. The armored bodies jerked, then plunged from their saddles, the lances flying. Hitomi, crying, swung the light up and down at them like a hammer. The jaguars, uninjured by the ray, bounded past the five; one came so close it knocked Rico down. Their oily, feral scent was overpowering. The animals bounded over the creek and into the forest out of sight.

The imp weasels cried, shaking with fear. A few had tears on their faces.

Gramm stepped forward. “Leave us alone,” he said loudly, his voice surprisingly powerful and threatening. “We don't want to hurt you, but we will.”

“Smoke the little bastards,” Rico said, standing up. He appeared shaken, but uninjured. His knuckles were utterly white from clutching his flashlight.

“Okay,” Indigo said, the war-glaze gone from her eyes. The trident-shaped injury to her face was practically glowing. It looked like it hurt, a lot. “Let's back away slowly and see what they do. Hitomi, be ready with the light.”

They moved through a hole Hitomi had cut with the beam, slowly stepping over the remains of a dozen of the weasel men. The blood oozing from the untouched body parts sizzled against the grass.

“I say we kill them,” Rico grumbled. “What if they follow us? They can catch us by surprise.”

“Shut up,” Indigo said.

They stepped into the freezing creek.

Apparently, the weasel men didn't like them touching their water. After they waded in a few feet, the imps shrieked in rage and charged. Several spears were hurled. They whined like bullets toward them.

“Turn your back and cover your face,” Indigo yelled.

Dave plunged into the water, his arms over his head. He felt several of the spears bounce off him. One nicked his left ear, and he cried out in pain. An inch to the right, and it would have slipped past his arms and into his skull.

Rico was screaming. Dave jumped up to see he was on his back in the shallow water, his hand pinned to the creek bed with a spear. The water rushed red with his blood. More spears flew, and Gramm splashed forward, folding himself over Rico's head.

“Hitomi,” Indigo and Dave both cried at the same time.

Hitomi shot a beam of light at the demons. She waved her arm back and forth, screaming something he couldn't understand. A solitary spear was thrown at her, but it missed its mark by several feet.

The effect was immediate. Not a single one could hide from the unforgiving light.

Dave and Gramm pulled the spear out of Rico's hand. He cried out, and more blood surged. “Why am I always the one to get hurt?” he said miserably.

“Come on,” Indigo said quickly. “Let's get out of here before more come.”

Dave quickly located another trail. And thankfully, it was headed in a direction different from where the jaguars had gone. His ear throbbed, and blood seeped down his shoulder, but it quickly clogged. After a few minutes, the pain went away. The injury on Rico's hand, which was much worse, healed more slowly. But that, too, went away after a while. The injury on Indigo's face hadn't gone away at all, and she kept gingerly touching it.

Hitomi led the way, crying quietly, quickly sweeping the light back and forth. A distant howl echoed back at them, obviously from a creature bigger than the weasel men.

Indigo grabbed Hitomi's hand. “Please, just keep the light forward, angled down. We don't want to anger any more of the monsters.”

Monsters.

Dave had been calling them demons and monsters in his head, but to hear that word spoken aloud was terrifying. He had lived his entire life in the shadow of monsters. But they were evil things that only came out at night. They weren't real. There had been some comfort in the thought that while he was awake, he couldn't be touched. But now that was gone. Awake, asleep, it didn't make a difference. None at all.

* * *

Several minutes earlier, Lesser-Commander Reeka drifted on a current high above the humans, angling around to see them again through the choking gap in the trees. If it hadn't been for the frantic activity of the shoals—filthy creatures—he would never have been looking down. But the pygmy sub-demons danced about crazily, sending out their high-pitched battle cry to the neighboring clan.

Normally, Reeka would just call in the coordinates and be done with it. Humans were barely worth the effort. Unfortunately, his communication mechanism wasn't working properly. The insurgents had jammed them again. Such things were becoming too common. A real nuisance to the orderly flow of the Dominion.

Too many in the leadership were heathens. Therefore, fools who couldn't do their jobs properly. If it was up to him, they would all worship the one true deity. Then, all such resistance would be crushed.

The humans were more a curiosity than anything. How did they get here? They were clothed, in angel armor no less, which meant they were more than escaped slaves.

Reeka flapped his mighty wings to hover above the gap in the trees. This should be amusing. He pulled his weapon from the holster. Maybe he would pick off some of the victors, just so they knew who their true God was. Moloch would surely reward such a display of piety. It could only be good for his Pri.

Then he saw the light. The sight of it hit him like a missed perch, and the surprise almost knocked him out of the sky. The girl human held a periscepter! And she had even managed to turn it on for a few short bursts. The fool wasn't even wielding it correctly. The others held them too! Perhaps they had all twelve. Perhaps. But how? Where did they get them? The Dominion had been searching for the fabled weapons since the start of the campaign.

He aimed his weapon. The humans had to be disposed of immediately. The tree-cats charged, and the girl reacted by sweeping the light blade through the shoals. The weapon was exciting and terrifying all at once. There were several mid-commanders he would love to use that on. But his devotion to the Dominion would not allow such treasonous thoughts to continue. He was a loyal soldier. He would recover the periscepters and bring them to his superior officer. Along with the brains of the humans. The Flamen would definitely want to ascertain their knowledge.

He centered the girl in his sights, adjusting for distance. But before he pulled off a shot, she hooked the weapon up, and he had to dive to avoid the beam. He wasn't quick enough, and his right wing was severed off at the first knuckle.

The pain was of an intensity he'd never felt before. He screamed as he plunged. He would miss the clearing and land just beyond the edge of the trees. The upper branches caught him, breaking his fall just slightly, ripping at him like claws. He hit the ground hard, and the snap of his left arm echoed.

He stood, agony wracking his body. Several shoals stared at him stupidly. He kicked one in the head in anger. He'd been shot! His wing was gone, probably forever. He was shamed, and he'd have to perform sacrificial suicide. But that little bitch would pay dearly for it first. He reached for his gun, but it was gone. Lost in the fall.

He picked up his communication mechanism and slammed it hard against a tree. Miraculously, it crackled to life. “This is Lesser-Commander Reeka reporting a Level One emergency at my current coordinates.” He punched the locate button on his console.

A lazy voice answered on the other side. “State again?”

“Listen,” he screamed into the microphone. “I have a Level One emergency. I have located the periscepters, and I am under attack.”

Ahead in the clearing, the shoals screamed, and from what he could tell, they were charging the humans and throwing their spears.

“No!” he cried. He knew what would happen next. He flung himself toward the cover of a nearby tree, but the end of his severed wing caught on a branch, and he fell. The True Light swept through the bewildered shoals. He closed his eyes and prayed to his God, the benevolent Moloch.

The radio crackled. “State the nature of the emergency again, Commander.”

But Lesser-Commander Reeka never heard the transmission. His final thoughts were of The Decretal, the great book of his faith. “He who walks in the path of Moloch,” the mighty book read, “will never be without a destination. Even after the final darkness comes.”

5

Gramm - The Unraveler

Gramm was tormented by the events of the past hours. Or days. Time worked strangely here. He used to be able to tell when mom would come home without ever looking at the clock. Unless it was Tuesday, and she had to work late. Then he'd count until father came home, but he wasn't as predictable. He worked late most nights, but, Tuesdays especially, he seemed to come home later and later, even until the end.

The worst part was being tired all the time. He could deal with his stomach always hurting and tender, and the nosebleeds that would erupt randomly, especially when he ate. Or the bruises that would show up on his arms and legs as mysterious as crop circles. But when he couldn't play his guitar after only ten minutes, or when he had to rest the book on a pillow just to be able to read for a little longer, he would sometimes wish it would all end sooner rather than later.

The enzyme replacement therapy did nothing. They said it worked well with those who suffered from his condition, but not for him. And then some doctors suggested he didn't have the rare Gaucher's disease at all, especially since he was so tall and the symptoms were progressing so rapidly. Whatever it was, it was a mystery. The Medicare system, run by the government, said he wasn't sick enough to have to stay at a hospital. And they wouldn't cover a private home nurse, even if he needed one.

No one came to look after him during the day. No one was there to watch him retch violently into the toilet. No one to bring a blanket when the chills hit him bad. He didn't mind it much. There was no worrying about visitors being uncomfortable around him. His last real friend from school had stopped coming six months before. He had his guitar and the internet to keep him company.

And the books, of course. He sometimes read a whole one in a day. Fiction, history, a thesaurus. He didn't care. It kept him alive. As long as his body was being filled with information, it wouldn't break down on him. Thanks to his Kindle and the internet, he never ran out of information. There was so much, yet he always wanted more.

Two types of books interested him the most. Books on religion, and books about travel. Religion because he knew he was dying. He read everything he could about every dogma, from Zoroastrianism to Greek mythology to modern Christianity.

The travel books were his secret passion. He didn't want pictures or websites or videos. It was the books, the travelogues, the essays that he loved. He had lived in Australia his entire life, never traveling far from his too-ordinary town except to Brisbane on the rare occasion. Father had promised to take him places, like America and China, but not after his sickness came.

Gramm had slowly come to realize he was never going to go anywhere. He spent long hours reading tales of travelers as they experienced new cultures and foods for the first time. They were first-person accounts of every place imaginable. Iceland, Maldives, Peru, Greece, Mongolia. He wanted to visit them all. To climb the trees, drink the water, shake hands with the shopkeepers. Just imagining himself there was an escape.

His dreams were an escape, too. He looked forward to sleep, though it was difficult at times, even though his body ached and pleaded for it. The dream was rare, only occurring about once a month.

His parents were agnostics, borderline atheists. He didn't believe in any particular religion himself, but he knew there was something more out there. And more importantly, he knew he was going there.

That was how he lived. Alone.

And in the same house he was born, he died. Alone.

I am the Navigator.

But what did that mean? He knew he had to bring the others to the city. He still didn't know why. He had thought he was going to die, and he would immediately know what his task was. It would be implanted into his memory. Like the way they spoke this wonderful language. But everything had gone wrong. Never did he sense that the world of Heaven was a dangerous place. The forest had looked big, but harmless from above. It just wasn't right.

What bothered him most was the holographic angel. Indigo and the others seemed to believe the contraption was broken, but Gramm had a deeper sense of foreboding. He saw the look in the angel's eyes when it saw the beach. Pure terror. That angel had been so confident until that moment. Its words of warning were permanently anchored into Gramm's memory:

If you do not remove me from this sand and get yourself under cover right now, you will likely experience a death so painful and drawn out, your human mind couldn't fathom it.

Rico was talking to him, something about the spear through his hand and how Gramm had saved his life, but his mind couldn't focus on the words.

Rico grabbed his shoulder, thrusting him back to the present. They were still on the thin trail, and Rico and Gramm were in the middle. Indigo and Hitomi up front.

“Don't you understand?” Rico said.

“What?” he asked. Rico looked hurt. “I'm sorry. I've been out of it, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I know what you mean. That's been some weird shit.” He kicked some rocks around, like he was embarrassed. “Anyway, I was saying you saved my life, man. That's hardcore where I'm from. We've done battle together. We're blood brothers now, and I got your back.”

“I didn't save your life. How could I? We're already dead.”

“We ain't dead all the way, that's for sure. Did you see the way that Indigo smashed the face of that little dude in? That's dead. I may be Earth dead, but I ain't Heaven dead. I almost was, but I'm not 'cause of you.”

Earth dead, Heaven dead. Gramm hadn't thought of it that way.

“You would have done the same thing. We're in this together, so we stand up for each other.”

Rico slapped him roughly on the back. “Right on, gringo.”

Gramm tried to block the altercation with the weasel imps from his mind, but Rico got him thinking about it again. Particularly the way Indigo had handled the situation.

When the skirmish started, he had been frozen. Fear was mostly to blame, but it was also surprise and awe at Indigo. It was like watching a world-class dancer on a stage. She was the strongest amongst them. She was more than just a good fighter. She was a trained killer.

Was she faking her amnesia? Gramm didn't think so. But, she was the only one with any memory loss. She was even a bigger mystery than Hitomi, with her flaming entrance to this world.

They marched on, a trance of silence coming over them for a long period. Time no longer moved. There was only one foot in front of the other. They could have been walking for weeks, but it didn't matter. Maybe months. There was no fatigue or hunger. The water from the brook seemed to have permanently filled them.

Eventually, the darkness became thicker in this area of the forest. Even the monster trees seemed to be stunted slightly by the lack of light. The constant drone of bugs was more subdued, adding to the creepy, ominous feeling.

Then it happened. He got the sign.

Gramm had an urge, an impossibly strong tug, to his left. Like a line of wire connected him with some mysterious destination deep in the forest. The powerful feeling came out of nowhere. That was why he was here. He was the Navigator, and he was being told where to go. To the left. Follow the line.

“Everyone stop,” he said.

They paused.

“We need to go this way,” he said, pointing off to his left.

“That's off the trail,” Dave said. “We could start walking in circles.”

“Why?” Indigo asked. “Is this something from your dream?”

“Sort of. I have a strong feeling suddenly of where to go. I think we should listen to it.”

“You have a feeling?” Dave said.

“It's very real, stronger than anything I've ever felt. I'm not making it up.”

“Let's do it,” Rico said. “This trail hasn't been exciting for hours.”

Dave was clearly not convinced. “It's safer here.” Hitomi nodded.

“No,” Indigo said after some thought. “Gramm's dream told us about this forest before we even saw it. I think we should trust him.”

Dave objected, but in the end they decided to follow Gramm's hunch. Gramm moved to the forward of the procession with Hitomi at his side. She smiled nervously.

Since the game trail they had been following was so faint, traveling without it wasn't much different. The underbrush was mostly the same thickness, and they still had to occasionally dodge dropping leaves the size of elephants. Darkness fell.

“Maybe it's night out there,” Rico said.

Gramm had been thinking that, too. The brilliant light from Hitomi's flashlight was comforting. Without it, they'd be in complete darkness. However, he wasn't comfortable relying solely on her ability to use the light as both a guide and a weapon. What if something happened to her?

Then, they abruptly exited the forest. It was entirely dark, except for Hitomi's light. Before them was a field of lush, green grass about knee high. A strong floral odor hung. It reminded him of the hospital. The bugs sound had grown silent, as if they had all suddenly dropped dead.

In the distance, there seemed to be a tall wall bursting from the grass. It wasn't blocking their path. It was as if they faced the very end of the obstruction. They could choose either side and walk along it. The end sloped into the ground like a staircase.

“What the hell is that?” Rico asked, pointing at the odd barrier.

“Come on,” Gramm said. He was being led to the right of the wall. It was about half a kilometer before they actually got there. Traveling through the grass was like walking through a field of masking tape. Everything stuck to him, and every time he moved his foot, he had to yank it.

They finally reached the barrier. It was made of wood. In fact, not just wood, but tree bark. How odd. Then he realized what it really was.

“Holy shit,” Dave said.

It wasn't a wall. It was a root. The end of it plunged into the dirt, giving the illusion of a staircase. The above-ground part towered up several hundred meters into the air, snaking like a gigantic worm into the darkness, leading, presumably, to a tree that made the ones behind them look like dandelions.

Rico ran his hand across the bark. “Is this what I think it is?”

Gramm was already following along the wall of the root. The grass here was sparser, and they could move more quickly. They followed it for a long time. Finally, they could see individual rays of red light in the distance, burning down like spotlights out of the dark sky.

It wasn't night above the forest. The trees were just under the shadow of this mountain of lumber. He remembered flying quickly over the trees in his dreams, and the giant leaves were concentrated at the end of the branches, making the foliage look like giant donuts from above.

He didn't remember any particular trees standing out bigger than the others, but as he passed over the forest, there had been a wall of darkness far to his left. Could that have been this tree? If so, this monstrosity rivaled the tower in the center of their ultimate destination, the city of Cibola. If it had been on Earth, it would be the diameter of a city.

But that also meant they weren't out of the forest at all, but only in the center. This wasn't the field that led to Cibola, but a clearing made by the strangled light of the gargantuan tree. His heart sank at the thought of it.

A whistling sound filled the silence, growing louder and louder by the moment. They all looked at each other. What was that? Bam! The ground shook. Something had fallen from above and crashed to the ground. A moment later, Rico pointed out a shell the size of a hot-air balloon. An acorn.

“That's just great,” Dave muttered.

The first beam of light was a welcome landmark. Soon, they blended, and it was like there was nothing above them at all. When they looked straight up, there was only an opaque red haze.

With the light came more foliage. Sparse, waist-high bushes.

Finally the great tree came into focus, a mountain of wood. Its shape was probably round, but it looked completely flat. It filled the world in front of Gramm. To the left, right, up, nothing but the ancient, dark wood.

“Now that's what I call a tree!” Rico exclaimed.

Gramm was in too much awe to speak.

He veered them away from the root and toward his mysterious destination. The tug was stronger than ever, and he sensed they were close.

They eventually came upon a gnarled, lone tree. It was dead, and the blackened wood had turned to charcoal. Lying at the base was a figure. A person! Gramm's heart pounded. This was where he was meant to take them. He rushed forward, leaving the others behind.

To his dismay, it wasn't a person at all, but a creature. And it was dead.

It was on its back, with long, misshapen fingers curled over its chest. It seemed to be tall, almost Gramm's height. A pair of horns grew from its forehead and curled back behind the pointed ears. Like a ram. It had long, knotted and dreadlocked gray hair. Its skin was cracked with time, with wrinkles so deep they seemed bottomless.

It wore simple clothes: a brown vest, brown pants, a blue cloak. Black boots rose to its knees. On the grass next to it was a peculiar musical instrument. It was a lute with an extra-wide neck and eighteen or so strings, which were wound crazily around the headstock. Gramm had an urge to pick it up, caress the strings.

The others caught up, all staring at the creature.

“What now?” Indigo asked, the disappointment evident in her voice. Rico pointed at the creature's hand. “It ain't dead. Look, it's moving.”

The creature slowly and deliberately sat up. The musical instrument jumped up out of the grass like magic and was caught in its hands. The strings—without being touched—vibrated with a full, beautiful chord. The creature pulled his hand over the neck, and the vibrations stopped.

“T-sir eel-A-neyef I woon D'na,” it said with a male voice, a smile bent on its lips.

“Say what?” Dave asked, looking at the others. Indigo shrugged.

It sucked in a breath of air. “My name is not important, though most of you will learn it. To those who must name me, I am called The Unraveler. Come, sit around me,” he said. “I have practiced this speech for a very long time, and I am glad it has come out so well. Do not ask questions because I will be unable to answer them. Sit.” The words were slow and raspy, and his face was scrunched up in concentration. No one moved.

“I am quite old and almost dead. I can no longer harm you, even if I wanted.” He paused. “I know you will sit.” His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, as if he was a marionette.

He turned to Indigo. “No questions, said I.”

She clamped her mouth shut, as if she had almost said something. Gramm, full of wonder, sat. The others followed.

“Demons are about, and they are hunting you. They are not angels, so the True Light drains them. That is why you, Hitomi, can injure them. If you do not trust someone, use the light. If they are demons, you shall slay them. The others will learn to use the light in time, but only for short periods.”

He held up his hand. “Please, I said. Do not speak. We cannot communicate.” Rico grunted, his mouth open. Hitomi sat with open-jawed amazement.

“Girl smart,” the Unraveler said. He laughed, a wheezing sort of sound. He nodded vigorously with joy. Hitomi suddenly jerked up with her flashlight, flashing the bright light upon the creature. He remained uninjured.

Gramm and Indigo looked at each other. This thing was obviously out of his mind.

“Give vigilance to these words,” the Unraveler said, suddenly serious. The power in his awkward voice gave Gramm the chills. There was something strange about it, almost familiar. It reminded him of his father's voice when he was on the phone with the Medicare and insurance people, talking about preexisting conditions and waiting periods. Fear and nervousness, all carefully hidden under a blanket of power and strength. “My existence does not guarantee your success. Never fall into that trap, for time is never predestined. Neither for you or me.”

It shook its horned head. “I can't answer your questions.”

“How did you know her name?” Rico blurted.

The creature had anticipated Rico's question, Gramm suddenly realized. How odd.

“I suspect you have many questions. Most answers will come in time, and if I reveal too much I shall damn you with that knowledge.” It sucked in a breath.

“Know this: you have blood flowing through your veins, just like you did in your home. Your bodies are different. They heal quickly, and they need much less rest and much less food. However, there is death. Some believe it is absolute.”

Then he looked deeply at each of them in turn. “Indigo, your memory shall return. Be careful not to welcome it so quickly.” She shifted uneasily.

“David, you will be given the opportunity for a great sacrifice. Choose wisely, and do not allow others to make it for you. Be mindful. If you do not confront your personal demons, they will come to you.”

“Hitomi, you can wield the light. That contraption you hold is called a periscepter, one of thirteen in existence. Many died so that horrible weapon may reach your hands. Never forget that. Be wary of those who will want to take it from you.”

“Rico,” he said. The pudgy boy leaned forward in anticipation. “Like all of us, you play an important role in the fulfillment of the Prophecy. May that be some solace to you in the dark times ahead.”

Rico frowned, clearly not pleased. The creature paused for a long time, as if he was inexplicably holding back tears.

“And finally, Gramm.” Their eyes met. Gramm held his breath, his heart frozen in his throat. A connection held them, powerfully strong. “You are the Navigator. You must bring the others to the Spire of Jhunayn within Cibola. It will be a treacherous journey, only one of many.” He paused. “There will be a moment when you will make a grievous mistake. It torments me that I cannot tell you what it is. Forgiving yourself will take a long, terrible time. But it will happen, my friend. I promise it will. One day you will find yourself here again, near the base of the Tree of Eternity. Only then may you finally rest. May your journey be strong.” He grabbed Gramm's wrist in a medieval handshake. “Well met, my friend. By god, well met.”

The Unraveler slowly stood. His lute swung behind his back. Before Gramm could protest, he began to walk away, backward. Gramm jumped to his feet, but the Unraveler quickened his pace. The odd creature paused in the distance, long enough to wave, then disappeared into the haze, moving impossibly fast. It was like watching a video being rewound. Gramm was jolted as their connection snapped, like someone had severed it with a pair of scissors.

No one said anything for a long period. Gramm stood for a long time, watching where the backward-moving creature had disappeared. Of all the things that had happened so far, this was definitely the most surreal. If the creature hadn't known their names, if he hadn't felt the connection, he would have dismissed the creature as insane. But it seemed to know everything that had happened to them so far, and he predicted their futures. But why speak in riddles? If you're going to tell fortunes, why not just spit it out?

Rico was the first to speak. “What did he mean by 'Prophecy'?”

“I don't know,” Indigo said. She appeared deeply troubled.

“Demons hunt us,” Hitomi whispered. “That is what it said. We are hunted.”

They looked at her. She seemed to be the most frazzled of them all. She looked up, holding the flashlight in her open palms, eyes afraid. The creature, the Unraveler. It had called it a “periscepter.”

“Why me?” Hitomi asked. An awkward silence followed.

“Every time something new happens,” Indigo said, “we end up with more questions than answers. I don't know why. None of us do. But I do know this. We need you to be strong. You are our protection.”

“I've never hurt anyone before,” she said. She dropped the light. It hit the ground, and it didn't bounce, as if it weighed much more than it really did. “I don't want to start.”

“Yo, it's a little late for that,” Rico said.

Indigo punched him in the arm. Her fist bounced off the suit.

“Look,” Rico said. “Those little guys were going to massacre us. They started it. You won't be wasting anything that doesn't deserve it. You'll only be hurting the bad guys.” He picked the flashlight up and shoved it back into her hands. “Remember what that dude said? It only hurts demons.”

“Be strong,” Indigo added. “For all of us.”

Hitomi took the periscepter, weeping silently.

* * *

The Unraveler watched Gramm from a distance. So young. So damn young. The boy's reluctance to take risks wouldn't go away for a long time. But he would learn. Slow, like the way a tree learned to seek the heavens.

He fingered the neck of his grand dulcimer. It was his oldest friend, given to him long ago. The smell of the oiled wood on his fingers was comforting beyond words. He wondered what would happen to it. It, along with his clothes and food, were the only objects that traveled freely in his inverted time stream. Would it revert forward again, or would it simply disappear, blown away like dust in the wind? He liked the latter idea the most. No one else could play it as well as him.

6

Indigo - Ungeo

Indigo started remembering things just before the attack by the stream, but what she learned about herself was terrifying, and she didn't dare share it. Not yet.

The burn on her face hadn't gone away unlike all of the other injuries the group had sustained. It ached, especially when she touched it. She tried not to think about it. Just a burn. It'll heal eventually.

Why would she want to not remember her own past, even if it was shameful or disturbing? The sum of anyone's memories made them who they were. Without them, she felt as if she was stumbling, barely staying on her feet.

Despite the Unraveler's warning, she clung desperately to every fiber of memory, hoping to grasp just enough to pull her brain from the murky fog.

Indigo's first intact memory was old. She was very young, maybe three. A man—her father—stood over her, holding her arm out, showing her how to strike a punching bag. Her fingers bled, and she cried. He berated her, pushing her over every time she didn't hit the bag correctly. She rode home in the car that night trying desperately to cry silently, her hands wrapped in bloodied bandages. Three years old. She'd been only three years old.

Another was much later, perhaps even recent to her own death. She wore a black karate gi, and her hands and feet were gloved. A blond girl was on the mat in front of her, eyes open in death, watery blood seeping from her mouth. A crying woman flung herself onto the dead girl. The referee just stood there, eyes locked on Indigo.

“I told you to stop,” he whispered.

But it wasn't until the fight with the demons that she realized what she was. They had all been transformed by their journey to this world. Dave was stronger, Rico could walk, Gramm had that odd instinct that guided them, Hitomi could somehow operate the periscepters, and each of them spoke this language. At home, Indigo had known how to fight. And she was especially good at it. Here, however, her skill was amplified tenfold.

The last memory only lasted a moment, and it was hazy. But Indigo feared it, this memory. She was held down roughly. They were on her back, but she couldn't see them, couldn't reach them. Greasy fingers grabbed at her hair, but they kept losing grip. Then the sharp nails dug into her scalp, pulling her head back. Her neck cracked painfully. A knife was placed at her neck, pressure applied to her skin. The cold blade pierced her skin, and she screamed. But she couldn't let it happen, not like this. She reached, reached for something, her fingers finding it…

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall what happened next.

They had been walking a long time since the conversation with the Unraveler. They had finally left the huge Tree of Eternity behind and re-entered the endless forest. Hitomi and Gramm were up front, and Indigo had moved back, allowing herself to fall somewhere in the middle. Though the Unraveler was the first friendly being they had met since coming here, the encounter left them all in bad spirits.

Silence consumed them, and on they trudged, dodging falling leaves and hiding from animals. Occasionally they rested, but they didn't sleep. They encountered several streams, and they all drank, but they didn't dare rest near the water.

Gramm had mentioned something about time being “funny” here, and he was right. The encounter with the Unraveler had seemed like it was only a day ago, but something deep within her believed it was really a month.

And finally, they escaped the forest.

It was perhaps two weeks, perhaps six months, since they had arrived at the lonely beach. They stepped into the bright light of the day, leaving the colossal trees, animals, and bugs behind. Before them now was a field of green grass, like a massive, unending golf course. It spread off as far as she could see.

“Finally,” Rico exclaimed. He held his arms out and fell, rolling in the grass. “Hey,” he said after a moment. “I can see the tops of the trees from here.”

They all looked up. The last trees of the woods stood above them, like ancient guardians to the dark forest. The tops were distant into the sky, far like the moon. Indigo's chest filled with wonder.

“Where now?” Hitomi asked.

“There's a road,” Gramm said. “I don't know where it is, though. It leads up to the front gate of the city.”

Indigo looked off into the distance. The view was similar to that of the beach. But instead of it being an endless gray, it was light, perfectly-manicured green grass as far as she could see, which wasn't too far because of the haze. The wind shifted, and she caught an odor to the air. It wasn't pleasant. Like burning meat.

“We won't have the same cover we did in the forest,” Indigo said, suddenly feeling exposed.

“It's like an endless football field. It's bunny rabbit heaven.” Rico said.

Dave laughed, though it sounded hollow and flat. “I hope so.”

* * *

Mid-Commander Ungeo G'sslom was in a foul mood. The Charun whipped her four wings in anger, diving a few hundred feet, then swooping up at a quick angle. A full platoon of tempest infantry kept perfect, disciplined pace with her erratic flying. The thirty soldiers flew in a wide V-formation, one scanner in the middle, one on each end.

Ungeo should have kept her blasted beak shut. Soldiers were constantly disappearing, a good portion of them idiot junior officers on unauthorized patrols. It was her duty to review the last transmissions of the missing. This one had been smart enough to plot his damned coordinates. And use that word. The one word that would send any Overseer into a salivating frenzy.

Periscepter.

In her current tour, she had heard every plea imaginable. Waylaid soldiers claimed seeing everything from an entire legion of Powers to the indestructible three-headed Cherubim. Survivors of these “attacks” usually ended up executed. False alarms were serious business. It was usually revealed they had fallen prey to the local fauna.

But this particular officer, she couldn't even remember the bastard's name, had done something extraordinarily smart. Or stupid. He claimed to be under attack by something wielding a periscepter.

It had been a long time since Ungeo had heard anything about the periscepters. They were artifacts, twelve in all, ancient weapons that could supposedly wipe out an entire division in seconds. While Ungeo couldn't possibly care less if these weapons were found, it was a Level-One priority to locate them, with a massive reward to the commanding Overseer if they were unearthed.

The rumor was they were a dream.

Ungeo had played the recording for her commanding officer, Grande-Commander Yvrex G'ssod, also a Charun. Yvrex had in turn brought it up to her Overseer, and the worthless, greasy slab of carrion immediately ordered a full platoon sent to the location. And just so there would be no mistakes, a Mid-Commander would be sent along, too. A Mid-Commander. And of course that meant Ungeo.

She should be leading a regiment. Certainly not this. She flexed her talons, the knuckles cracking loudly. Ungeo would give anything to rip the overseer's repulsive face right off. He was a pitiful excuse for a leader. All his kind were. Charun were not meant to take orders from inferior species. Especially male ones. It went against their very nature.

And he had the presumption to reprimand her for taking so long to listen to the recording. She had just received the damn thing. It was the communications division's fault. Not a Charun amongst them.

“Commander, movement to the east,” one of the scanners reported over the communicator. “On the ground.”

“Size?”

“Computer says bipedal animals, numbering five or six. Perhaps human.”

They were just about to fly over the mighty forest that encircled this world. The distress marker had originated somewhere near the edge of the far side, near the ether. Ungeo really didn't have time to deal with escaped slaves. Though it was odd they were this far out. They were probably attempting to flee into the forest.

“Do you have a target solution?”

“Negative. They're still under cover from the foliage.”

She considered it. The dahhak tempests were notoriously good at blowing things up, and she knew this particular platoon hadn't seen any real action in a long time. But, she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Stand down,” she said.

“Yes, Commander.” She sensed the disappointment in the soldier's voice.

“Worry not, Dahhak,” she said. “If they're still alive on our return, I'll allow the platoon to hunt them. If not, I'll give permission for some other game.”

That seemed to satisfy them. “Yes, Commander.”

Although Ungeo rarely ventured into the field, it was obvious that she was an excellent leader. All Charun were, after all. But she had a special gift. When this war was through, perhaps books would be written about her leadership skills. She knew how to keep her inferiors content. Now their spirits would be high with the promise of carnage.

Plus, she did hunger. Other than the heart of a male Charun, raw human flesh was a favorite but rare treat.

A rare treat indeed.

* * *

Rico spotted them first. A black V high in the sky, about the same height as the trees. A single dot led them, and it flew unevenly, like it was encumbered with something. They appeared in a hole in the treetops, then disappeared.

“What is that?” Dave asked, squinting.

“Maybe they're angels,” Gramm said.

“Or maybe not,” Indigo said. She watched them rocket through the sky. The group moved quickly, with purpose despite the lead flyer's uneven path.

“Think they saw us?” Rico asked.

“I don't know,” Indigo said. She felt uneasy. Whatever they were, they were huge. Especially the one in the lead. There was just something about them, a funny feeling that made her fear them. “Hitomi.”

The young girl gripped the periscepter tightly.

“It didn't look like they spotted us,” Dave said, scanning the sky. “I don't see 'em anymore.”

How were they going to hide from flying creatures? If they had been out in the open field… She thought for a moment, her eyes resting on the grass. “We need to make camouflage,” Indigo said finally. “A netting of the grass that we carry like cloaks. Then if something flies above us, we dive for cover.”

“That's a good idea,” Gramm said. “But how do we make them?”

Hitomi slowly moved to the edge of the grass and pulled a few threads.

It was deeper than Indigo had thought. The blades were about a foot long each, and they were all the same height, which gave the illusion of a closely-cropped football field. They'd be able to hide more easily in the tall blades, but so could other things. Plus, it would be more difficult to traverse through the field. They had to find Gramm's road.

“I can make what you want,” Hitomi said. She put her periscepter down and quickly threaded the thick grass together. Her slender fingers moved like they were dancing. “It will take time.”

“Do what it takes,” Indigo said.

Dave leaned up against a normal-sized tree. This one was about 100 feet high. It shot up at an angle, with wavy branches like frozen streamers. “While she does that, I'm going to try to climb up there,” he said. “Maybe I can see something.”

“Don't kill yourself,” Rico said.

Indigo didn't object, and that seemed to be the unspoken consent. She was just now becoming aware of how the others looked to her for leadership. She never asked for that position, and it made her uncomfortable.

Dave shimmied up the tree like a cat. The strong boy quickly pulled himself to the first level of branches, then stood, reaching above. In only a matter of minutes, he was near the top, staring out into the distance like a pirate on a crow's nest. He looked about for a minute then made his way back.

“I saw the road,” he said to Indigo when he returned, breathless. “It's about a half-mile to our right. It's really wide, like a highway. There's some other junk out there, too, but I'm not sure what it is. It's like crashed airplanes and shit.”

Gramm looked up. “Did you see the city?”

“No,” Dave said. “It's too hazy.”

Indigo turned to the tall, Australian boy. “Gramm, how far is it?”

“Far. But the distance isn't as wide as the forest. No way.”

“And what about this Spire of Jhunayn thing?” She'd been thinking about that, too. It's where the Unraveler told them to go. It was the only destination they had.

Gramm shrugged. “I don't know. I guess I'll sense it when we get close, like I did with the giant tree.”

Hitomi looked up from her work. “Will this be over when we get to the city? It's where the angels live, right?”

“That's right,” Gramm said. “I'm starting to think the city is Heaven, and everything around it is hell. Maybe everyone who dies goes through this same thing. And only the worthy make it, like a limbo or purgatory.”

“I'm gonna snag me an angel chick,” Rico said. “I bet they dig Mexicans.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dave said.

Indigo was not nearly as optimistic. The Unraveler had been very specific. The journey to the Spire would be treacherous. “Hitomi. When do you think you'll be done?”

“It is going to take time,” she said. “But they will be strong.” She wove the grass so tightly, it was practically a solid piece of cloth.

“Then we wait,” Indigo said.

* * *

Ungeo G'sslom was not pleased with what her patrol found. At first, the scene had been a familiar one. A field full of dead shoals and a single, dead dahhak. The little imp-like creatures were easily defeated, though they were most dangerous in death. The ring of fallen scavengers surrounding the shoals was evidence of that.

However, the dahhak was usually in the middle of the ring, peppered with spears. That's clearly not what had happened here. The manner of the demons' death was disturbing. The shoals hadn't been slain by the dahhak. What had killed them had also killed the lesser-commander. A soldier had found the upper part of the dahhak's torso, minus the head. The legs and most of the wings were gone also. It was the same with the shoals, different parts missing here and there.

And the cuts were precision made. Almost as if the injuries came from a weapon made of light.

“Has it all been recorded?” Ungeo demanded of the arms officer.

The wizened old dahhak looked ill. “Yes, Commander. One of the scanners has located tracks leading into the forest, dated back to within hours of this incident. The tracks suggest they are in insurgent armor. But they're too heavy to be any known angel strains. Humans I'd say.”

“Five of them?” she asked, her mood darkening further. The doleful creature nodded.

“Damn,” she muttered. They had them and let them go. Not the move of a brilliant commander. But it really wasn't her fault. It was the fault of the scanners. They should have determined the threat was greater. She made a note to put a formal reprimand in their folders.

And now, because of their mistakes, the platoon was going to have to track the humans again, and with much caution. It defied comprehension, but the slaves wielded the True Light. There was no other explanation.

But... Ungeo salivated at the idea of capturing the periscepters. The overseer would get the credit and reward, but all charun would know who the true hero was. Ungeo of the G'sslom flock, second born of a nesting of seven. Daughter of Lhyrix G'sslom. Hero. Celebrated military leader.

She liked the thought of that.

* * *

It took a long time for Hitomi to finish the five cloaks. But the final product surprised Indigo. It was beyond all expectations. They looked as if a professional had tailored them. The grass was woven tightly, and full length. They were even topped by a wide, drooping hood.

“Damn, woman,” Rico said, trying his on. “Did you work in a sweatshop or something? These are perfect. Now we're talking Jedi.”

Dave shook his head. “First we find out Indigo is a ninja, and now we learn Hitomi here is really Martha Stewart. Anything else we need to know? Gramm?”

“Where did you learn to do this?” Gramm asked, holding his extra-long cloak up into the light.

“I'm not so sure,” Hitomi said. “I learned some basket weaving in school. But I was never so good. I've never done anything like this. But, I just knew I could do it.”

“Yes you certainly can,” Gramm said. “You're an expert.”

“Yeah,” said Dave. “If we were back home, you could sell this stuff to the tree huggers and make a fortune.”

Everyone went silent at that.

Back home, Indigo thought. This is our home now.

Dave shuffled his feet uneasily, looking abashed. They were all suddenly thinking the same thing, Indigo knew. Dave turned away and pulled the cloak over his shoulders.

Indigo put on her own cloak. It was light and comfortable. She tied it around her neck and pulled the hood over her head. It smelled like freshly cut grass. She inhaled sharply, gradually realizing a new memory was coming, like water dripping from a clogged pipe.

* * *

Grass. Recently cut, still lining the yard in parallel lines she'd have to rake into a bag. She picked up a handful and pulled it to her nose. They said there was no grass in Arizona. No more mowing the lawn, no more hours of meticulously pulling weeds.

Still, she knew she'd miss the smell of cut grass, her friends, her studio, even her school. It would be like traveling to a new world. From Virginia to Arizona. It might as well be across the universe.

Her father had bought a studio in Tucson. No more of this second in charge bullshit, he'd said. I'm gonna be the boss. And one day, Indy, it'll be yours. You'll display your Olympic medals and trophies all on a big wall, just like I'm going to do the day we get there. So anyone walking in will know this ain't no crap studio. This is the real deal.

She'd told her father she was excited, though she dreaded having to start all over. She secretly admitted to her mother how she felt, and her mother pleaded with Indigo not to say anything. It was his dream to run his very own school.

Her mom was thirty-three years old when she said that. She looked fifty.

Her friends had promised to keep in touch, but she knew what was going to happen. They'd remain friends online, maybe even chat now and then. They'd like each other's snaps. But then high school would start, and Indigo would drift away.

She wondered if she'd make any friends. The only ones she had now she'd had since she was little. As she got older, her circle was constantly shrinking as friends moved away or went to different schools. She was taller than everyone, even the boys. She was quiet. She got straight A's in school but never raised her hand. She always ate lunch alone, even away from her few friends. Some called her “Freak Show” or “Indiana Bones.”

It wasn't that she didn't want friends. She didn't know how to make them. She felt different from them. And they sensed it.

Though she complained about the work, she secretly liked cutting the grass. It was the only time she was allowed outside. Her training schedule was punishing. An hour of hitting the bags before school. Three of sparring and forms after. The weekends were aerobics or some tournament, which she didn't dare lose. Her father did not like losers.

“You're destined for greatness, Indy,” he'd say at night when she was in bed, putting his strong hand on her shoulder, the smell of his cologne filling the room. “I only wish my father had taken as much interest in me.”

And when he was gone, his smell would remain. Like a ghost, watching her.

7

Ungeo - Hitomi - Hekka

The slaves hadn't moved from where they were before, a stroke of good fortune. Ungeo and the thirty Tempest Infantry perched upon a tree high above the five humans. She watched them for a short while, hoping to catch sight of the periscepters.

This was an important mission, and she wanted it executed perfectly. Barely a few seconds into her conversation with her grande-commander, the Overseer had patched in. “No mistakes, Charun,” he growled.

“Of course, My Lord,” she said, imagining herself disemboweling the fat demon.

“Report to me immediately upon completion,” he barked. Then added, “and if you complete your mission successfully, without any problems, there'll be a promotion in it for you. You fail, and I'll have your wings clipped.”

“Of course, My Lord,” she said again.

The humans donned green cloaks made of grass from the terrain. It was crude, yet effective camouflage. Without a scanner, they'd be difficult to spot.

“We must be careful,” Ungeo said to the elite soldiers, puffing her chest. The truth was, she had never actually commanded—or taken part in—a raid before. But she was well-versed in all combat theory. She had high marks in all the battle sims. Well, passing marks, really. But the damn machines were biased against Charun. “We can't just simply blast them from afar. Their brains need to be wholly intact. The humans possess one or several of a weapon of mass destruction. You saw what they did to the shoals.”

“We ain't no bloody shoals,” one of the soldiers growled.

She chose to ignore the comment. A good leader knew when to leave things unsaid. “Therefore it is imperative they don't see us coming. We shall conduct maneuver number 713 from your Advanced Aerial Training manual.”

They looked at her blankly.

She whooshed her back wings angrily. Imbeciles. These were supposed to be some of the best. As elite as a platoon could get without being Charun. “It's a dive and decapitation maneuver. Surely you've drilled on this before?”

“We can do it,” the Arms Officer said. The others murmured agreement.

“Commander,” one of the scanners reported. “They are moving.”

“Okay,” Ungeo squawked, her voice not coming out anywhere near as powerful as she wanted. “Adjust your weapons properly. If any of their brains are injured, I'll make sure the Overseer knows of your mistake.” With a powerful swish, she hovered a few feet off the top of the tree, her service weapon in hand. The bitter stench of excitement rose from the soldiers. She liked that smell. It reminded her of dinner.

* * *

Hitomi pulled the cloak tightly over her shoulders, but she didn't pull the hood up. The wind had picked up slightly, and a growing heaviness hung. The sense of rain tingled her nose. She hoped it would rain. There was something rotten in the air.

Their plan was to hike to the freeway that led to the city, but they would skirt the side of the road. If anything came, they'd dive into the grass and conceal themselves as best they could.

“Everyone ready?” Indigo asked.

They stood, all pulling their cloaks tightly around their shoulders. They looked like a group of green monks. They skirted the tree line, heading toward the road.

Hitomi clutched onto her periscepter like a life raft. She tried to teach the others to use it, but the only one to get the light weapon to work was still Indigo. And after the short burst of weak light, she fell over panting like she had been kicked in the stomach.

The last thing Hitomi wanted was to be in charge of their defense. And the thought of having killed all those creatures still sickened her—although she knew perfectly well what they could've done to her. Still, she never wanted to hurt anyone. Not even demons.

This must be my penance.

They had only been moving for a few minutes when it happened. She became aware of a noise, and it came from above. Like a flag being ripped at by the wind. She glanced up.

* * *

Hekka, member of the elite Dahhak Tempest Squadron, was living fury. Filled with vigor from his radiant god Moloch, he focused his rage toward the human girl. Instead of allowing himself to just dive, he pumped his wings so his descent would be swifter than the others. He wanted to be the first.

Unlike most of his comrades, he normally didn't \thirst for violence. But at this moment it was more than just a simple craving for battle. It was almost blinding.

Though the others were unaware, Lesser-Commander Reeka had been his brother, one of a spawn of twelve thousand. They had been particularly close. They had grown together, trained together, aspired together, even spawned with a young Dahhak Queen together.

The sight of his brother's severed wing and his rendered torso still burned in his mind. And that humans had done it. Dying with shoals was bad enough. But humans? Humans! His clan would be shamed, and Reeka's page from the Book of Ancestors would be burned, never mentioned again. Forgive me Moloch, he prayed. My anger burns.

But Moloch would forgive him, for revenge was a sacrament. A way to attain his Pri. He squeezed gently on the trigger of his weapon, causing a sickle-shaped blade of energy to form at the tip. Decapitation was too good for them. But Hekka followed orders. Even if they did come from a pompous, idiot Charun.

The female turned to look up at him, but it was too late. He swung his arm back, bracing himself for the killing blow.

* * *

Hitomi saw the demon flying right at her, its scarlet eyes wild. She screamed and pulled up her periscepter, but her arm seemed to be working in slow motion. The demon arched its weapon at her head. Then something pummeled into her stomach, and she fell. The fire blade whistled over her, the stench of sulfur and burnt hair whipping by her bullet-train fast.

Dave had tackled her, saving her life. Her stomach burned. He quickly rolled away, freeing her arm. The demon swished up, did a quick flip, and arched back toward her. Above it, several more of the demons came, all with weapons drawn. They fell like rain, screaming toward the group of five.

Their eyes were red like caged fire—glowing, yet lifeless. They had black wings, made of rough-looking skin, thick with pulsating veins. Like the wings of a pterodactyl. They had human bodies, tall, thin, and angular, their skin a dark shade of gray.

Panic dictated Hitomi's motions. She flashed on the periscepter, but her attacker dove out of the way, the beam nicking a part of its wing. It shrieked in pain and anger. The second closest demon was caught in the blast, its blue armor and weapon plummeting. The other demons scattered, aborting their dive.

Next to her, Indigo pulled a short blast from her light, knocking herself over. The beam caught three of the demons. One lost its wing and fell. It smashed into the ground like a meteor.

Hitomi swung the light wildly, hitting the demons. Some flew for the cover of the nearby trees. Those that didn't died.

She caught a momentary view of another creature high above, circling. It was almost twice as imposing as their attackers. A giant mutated dragonfly with the head of a vulture. It had grotesquely burly human arms, and a pair of deadly-looking talons hung below it. It had four, rounded insect wings that blurred. There were no feathers, just dense, dark hair.

“No,” Hitomi said, the sight of the demon staggering her. Hitomi thought of fire. And pain. An unending impression upon her memory.

“Run!” Indigo screamed. “Back into the trees. Hitomi, keep the light moving.”

The trunk of a massive tree blocked their escape, and they rushed toward the closest end—back the way they had just come. Hitomi didn't look, but she kept the light waving upwards. A few screams, followed by the crash of heavy bodies slamming into the ground let her know she'd hit home.

Rico had gotten hold of one of the Demon's bulky black guns, but he couldn't get it to work. The guns looked tiny in the hands of their attackers, but it was huge in Rico's. He desperately slammed the switches and pulled the levers. He pushed something forward on the weapon, and a ball of fire shot off into the darkness, hitting a faraway tree. The wooden skyscraper ignited.

He turned the weapon to the sky, screaming at the treetops.

“Come on,” Indigo yelled. “Into the forest.”

* * *

Thirteen Dahhak lost in seconds. Thirteen! It was unforgivable. The Dahhak responsible—if the bastard was still alive—would be flailed in front of an audience of his peers. Ungeo had specifically ordered a controlled, silent dive. No matter what happened now, she'd be considered a failure. How could she possibly prove her military leadership with such incompetence hindering her? Thirteen soldiers lost to humans. She shook with rage. Unforgivable.

“Regroup,” she screamed into the communicator.

“Permission to upgrade energy bursts,” the Arms Officer pleaded over the band.

“Denied,” Ungeo said curtly. “Now regroup.”

A tree exploded in a ball of flame. The humans were picking up the weapons of the fallen Dahhak! Ungeo shattered a branch with her powerful talons in anger. What to do?

The remaining Dahhak perched upon the tree, all filled with a tangible rage. She noticed that some of them had switched their weapons back up to sixty percent, the standard war setting.

“What now, commander?” the Arms Officer said, spitting that last word.

* * *

Hekka ignored the regroup order. This was a matter of Moloch, and matters that involved Him were always a priority. He was perched in a low tree, silently watching the humans rush through the forest directly toward him. His wing burned in agony, but the injury was slight enough that it would regenerate. He could still fly.

His family had done something to anger Moloch. It was the only explanation for Reeka, and now this.

These weren't ordinary humans, but Children of Moloch placed here to punish Hekka and his clan. He knew this now. Entire clans had been annihilated because a single Dahhak had angered the god. There was only one way to erase the Blood Anger. Temple Oblation. Oblation in itself was a common practice, but this was different. The blood of a Child of Moloch was required for the rare ceremony, and it could only be completed on sacred ground.

He prayed silently as the humans approached. They crashed through the bush, obviously assuming the threat was behind them. Hekka prayed for guidance. Now that His anger had been identified, He would allow Hekka safe passage. Moloch was a kind god. He felt the radiant power filling him. Even the ache of his wing was subdued.

* * *

They ran back into the wood and rested against a tree. Hitomi flashed her light desperately into the darkness, but they no longer heard screams. Rico and Dave both had weapons now. Rico quickly showed him how to work it and adjust the power. They both had the energy turned all the way up, and the black guns hummed menacingly. Behind them, the tree still burned. Smoke filled the air.

Hitomi sucked in air. It was happening. It was happening again. Her entire body trembled.

“Let's put some more distance between us and those things. And then we'll decide what to do,” Indigo said.

“We can't leave the forest,” Rico said. “They can just float up like hawks, waiting for us. And when… AHH!”

He never finished the sentence. A demon flew out of the branches and shot at him, knocking him to the ground. The massive creature landed on him, smacking him senseless and sending his newly-acquired gun flying. Hitomi brought up her periscepter, but the demon swished its wings, and the wind threw her down. Dave fired a bolt from his gun, but it went high, exploding into the darkness. Another tree burst into an inferno.

The demon smashed Rico in the face with the butt of his weapon, saying something in a strange, sepulchral language. The monster picked up the unconscious Rico in his arms and took off, disappearing into the haze.

“Rico,” Indigo screamed, jumping up.

Hitomi thrust the beam at the retreating demon, but it flew too fast, and soon it was out of sight. Rico was gone.

No, no, no.

“Nooooo!” Dave yelled, firing his weapon into the air, sending one fireball after another into the darkness. They streaked off like missiles, exploding against the high trees. Above, the roof of foliage burned.

Gramm knocked the muzzle of the weapon down. “Stop!” he cried. “If you hit him, you'll hit Rico too.”

Above came the loud crack of a branch. It whistled down. Hitomi looked up and saw the smoking hunk of wood, falling impossibly fast. It was the size of a passenger train. They scattered, but Hitomi stumbled. The bulk of the limb missed her, but a branch, the thickness of a baseball bat, glanced off the top of her head, sending bright flashes of white pain. Then she was on her back, staring up into the fiery haze. Consciousness crept away. High above, the sky was on fire. At least she wasn't on fire. Not this time.

Leaves fell like raindrops, and one floated toward her. It landed on her gently, sealing off everything, even the pain.

Like a funeral shroud.

* * *

Nigel's name was gone from her friend's list. She moved to Instagram and searched for him. Gone.

He'd blocked her. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

“I can't stand the thought of not being able to touch you,” Nigel had said that last night before she went back to Japan. They were huddled together in his bedroom. The white sheets were red with her blood.

“We will see each other every day,” she said, holding up her phone.

“Run away with me. Tonight. We can live with my cousin.”

She sighed, allowing the fantasy to live in her. But it was impossible. She couldn't legally stay in England now that her term was over. That was how the exchange student program worked. And she knew her father would find her. “Oh, Nigel.”

Every day, she died a little. Every minute that passed, her thoughts lingered on his face, his eyes, his kind words. His smell. She wished she had run away with him. They could've made it work. They could've married. They would've let her stay then.

Hitomi remembered his last message to her.

This whole Japan, England thing isn't really a good idea, you know? See you around!

She'd written back, I don't understand.

That had been last night. And now, she was blocked. Erased. It was as if it had never happened.

She felt like she had been hit by a bus.

She was outside, walking down an alley. She didn't even remember going outside. She wandered the streets for a while, her mind completely blank. Cold rain soaked into her. And suddenly, like the flash of a cutscene, she was home again. She didn't recall going through her front door, climbing into her bed while still sopping wet. This is what happens when you're broken. You lose parts of yourself. You fall away. Time loses meaning. She couldn't remember breathing. Couldn't remember how to breathe, not without sucking in and sobbing outward.

Eventually, the earthquakes in her mind settled, and her thoughts focused only on one thing.

I want to die.

* * *

Ungeo's world was coming undone, rendered like the flesh of a male Charun. All three scanners were lost, and the humans had retreated into the trees. The smoke from the burning foliage completely blocked their view from above.

Another tree exploded in flames. Then, the world around the decimated platoon was a sea of fire. The Arms Officer was immolated with a direct hit from a stolen energy weapon, the tree below them ablaze. Fireballs exploded everywhere, and Ungeo's leg burned. She pounced into the air, circling above the conflagration.

Ungeo roared with fury. Several more Dahhak were lost in the sudden attack, lost in the flames.

How did the humans know where they were perched? Were they just firing randomly? She fired her own weapon down at a thick limb in anger. It snapped and fell.

Of the thirty Dahhak, only eight remained. They floated before her, awaiting her next order. What to do? Her career was surely over. If the filthy Overseer didn't murder her, the other Charun would demand she be tortured and displayed. Failure was not accepted in Charun society. When they investigated the battle scene…

A dark, murderous idea formed in her mind. She was in charge of investigating the deaths of soldiers. She knew every excuse and explanation possible, and she was aware of what was and wasn't accepted as the truth by the Dominion.

The story took shape. It had been a trap, an elaborate ruse. She wasn't set on by periscepter- wielding humans, but a wing of angels. A small one was rumored to be operating in this area. A whole wing was sizeable enough so she couldn't be blamed for losing the platoon, and it wasn't unbelievable. It could work. It had to work.

They had tracked the human prints to an area near the edge of the forest when they were set upon. They didn't have a chance. The Dahhak fought bravely, but not as bravely as Ungeo. The angels didn't leave remains when they died, and the survivors always collected the equipment of their fallen. Ungeo could attribute a high body count to each of the dead Dahhak. The clans would be hesitant to demand an inquiry into the deaths, since dying in glorious battle was the ultimate goal of all Dahhak.

There was only one problem, and they were hovering before her now.

She pulled her weapon up, adjusting and focusing the energy burst, setting it so it would shoot wide. She made a great show of grumbling to herself, pretending like there was some sort of malfunction. The eight Tempest Dahhak floated stupidly.

She fired, cutting all eight in half with a single shot. They plummeted into the fire.

She wondered if she should do something about the humans. Just because they had been lucky so far didn't mean their good fortune would remain. If they survived the fire they had caused, they'd likely meet their demise some other way. This was an especially dangerous place.

It was a shame she hadn't been able to consume one. Perhaps when she got back to the city she'd purchase a human. It would be a treat to herself for devising such a clever plan. With a burst from her bottom wings, she headed home. She'd put some distance between herself and the fire before she radioed in news of the ambush.

* * *

In the distance ahead, Hekka, the sole surviving member of his Tempest Platoon, streamed toward the temple in the sky, his prize clutched in his hands.

8

Dave

First Rico, now Hitomi. Dave kicked through the leaves, frantically searching for her. Fire rained. He prayed the huge branch hadn't crushed her.

“Hitomi!” he cried. They had to find her now, or the fire would surround them.

He stepped on the leaf that covered her. She let out a humph, but when he ripped the leaf off, she was still unconscious. An angry purple knot blazed on her head, already healing. She was alive. She had a death grip on her periscepter. He slung his demon weapon over his shoulder with the strap and lifted her. A glowing ember landed on his head, burning his scalp.

“I found her!”

He ran. She was so light, almost like she was hollow.

“Let's go!” Indigo said, the relief obvious on her face.

They ran away from where Dave had fired the bulk of his fireballs. The upper atmosphere burned. Flaming chunks of wood fell like bombs. Their only escape would be out of the forest, into the open field.

“What happened?” Hitomi groaned from Dave's arms.

“You got hit with a tree branch,” he said, continuing to rush through the woods.

“Rico…” she began.

“He's gone,” Dave said through clenched teeth.

He felt her breath heavily against his shoulders, her whole body tensing. “Put me down,” she said.

He gently put her down. Tears poured down her face.

“Hurry,” Gramm said, turning back toward them. He also had tears on his face. “Please.”

They made a break for the treeline, dodging an explosion of burning, rotted wood. Branches whipped by, scratching Dave's face. Déjà vu. This was too much like his dream. The wolf was the fire.

As they passed out of the choking cover of the flaming trees, a new fear took him. Dave clutched his weapon tightly. Gramm was now holding the powerful gun Rico had dropped. Hitomi and Indigo held the periscepters. They scanned the smoke-filled sky.

Cinders zipped by like angry dragonflies. “Pull up your hoods,” Indigo called.

When Dave had climbed the tree earlier, part of the field in the distance looked like a junkyard. Shadowy hunks of metal were scattered about with no apparent purpose. If they could make it to one of the bigger ones, they could hide there until they were sure the demons were gone. He quickly told the others of his plan.

They ran.

The grass was thick and strong, like the bristles of a broom. But it seemed to sense their urgency, and it parted easily once they reached full speed. There was no sign of the demons.

The field teemed with rabbit-sized mammals. A few dozen rodents popped up out of the grass. He almost fired the weapon into them. He lowered the power on his gun, realizing if he had to shoot something close up, the resulting explosion would catch them all. Rico had said something about that when he had showed him how to use the gun. A pang of remorse hit him.

Rico. That poor kid.

Could they have done something? What would the demons do to him? Torture him? Dave would rather be dead than captured. He didn't know what those monsters wanted, or why they attacked them. They were terrible. A living nightmare.

They ran and ran and ran.

Towering shapes took form. The junkyard. One looked like a double-wide trailer that had fallen from the sky, and the other appeared to be half of an exploded tank. Like the helmet he had found, these were covered with black markings. The remains of a battle.

War. In Heaven.

Yet the sight of these burnt-out husks relieved him. Inside, they'd have cover from the prowling demons. And they would provide a distraction to the burning knife of regret over the loss of Rico.

They headed toward the crashed trailer. More shapes emerged in the distance—some monstrous, some the size of compact cars. Indigo let out a gasp of surprise when they saw one of the biggest shapes. It wasn't a crashed vehicle, but a skeleton. It was difficult to make out what it would have looked like alive, but it had six legs, and a human torso. The long ribcage arced into the sky like that St. Louis Gateway Arch. The blackened bones almost glowed against the backdrop of the fiery sky. The skull was smashed and scattered, but a long row of spikes jutted down the spine of the behemoth. An iron helmet lay on its side, like an empty swimming pool turned over. The creature's weapon rose out of grass, a cannon reminiscent of those on battleships.

“I hope I never meet one of those when they're alive,” Dave said. In the distance, other skeletons peppered the battlefield, intermixed with the machine carnage.

They took shelter under a massive skull cap that once belonged to a reptilian monstrosity. A portion of the lip was broken off, allowing them to all crawl under. Tiny, glowing bugs had taken up shelter under it, and they clicked angrily at the intrusion. The helmet was a capacious, metallic igloo, and it smelled of sweat and potatoes.

They huddled together not talking. Each of them jumped at the slightest sounds. God, he was scared. It was unbearable. How long could they live like this?

The sound of movement caused them all to tense. A group of creatures prowled outside. It sounded as if they were attempting to move quietly, but there were too many.

“Maybe it's animals,” Gramm whispered.

A murmured command quickly dismissed that idea. One of the creatures answered, too quietly to hear. They were just outside. Dave's fingers clenched his weapon like a vice. His heart pounded.

“Only Hitomi and I will fire,” Indigo said quickly, holding her periscepter up in slightly shaking hands. “You two hold off.”

“Why?” both Dave and Gramm demanded at the same time. Dave's finger was taut on the trigger.

“Because if the light doesn't hurt them, they're good guys.”

Gramm grumbled something but eased his finger off. Dave didn't let up.

A Frisbee-like drone suddenly buzzed into the chamber, as loud as a chainsaw, so abrupt and unexpected Dave was paralyzed for a few precious seconds. It whirred right into the center of them and stopped, hovering in midair. It was silver, like a knife, and its edges gleamed. Everyone screamed. Hitomi flashed her light at it, but it had no effect.

Dave sighted it, but before he could fire, a beam shot from the Frisbee, and the tip of the gun melted like wax. A moment later it did the same to Gramm's gun.

Indigo raised her periscepter like a club. She rushed the flying saucer like a madwoman, screaming. It deftly dodged her swing, rising to the top of the chamber. Blue gas began to seep from the bottom of the machine, quickly filling the tight area like a crashing wave.

Dave felt as if he was drowning. He fell to his knees.

Please, he prayed as the darkness rushed him. Just let me die. I can't handle sleep. Just death. A real death with no more waking up, no more demons, no more dreams.

His prayer was not answered.

* * *

The woods, like always.

Dave ran. But this was different, he now saw. This wasn't the wolf-dream, but a memory. His last moments on Earth. The mail carrier had left the gate open, and Carumba, his dog, had gotten out again.

The dog had been his shrink's idea. Dave got her right after his dad had died. She was mostly Siberian husky, but the store owner had said she had a little timber wolf in her. Dave doubted it was true, but sometimes her frosty eyes reminded him of the wolf stare in his dream. But less menacing, full of love.

He loved his dog, but damn was she stupid. The stupidest animal ever to walk the planet.

The fluffy white and tan dog would saunter right into walls sometimes. Or get her feet all tangled up on the stairs. She'd chase her tail for hours, finally catch it, and whimper in pain as she chewed on it. She would eat whatever was put in front of her, no matter how full she was. Like a goldfish. One night she got into the garbage, and Dave discovered her on her side, bloated and groaning, her tongue still lashing at the insides of a can of Spam. The dog chased any and every small animal and would put herself at extreme danger in the process. More than once Dave had found her hopelessly stuck in a hole in a tree.

Dave and his mom had brought Carumba to the vet, thinking she had an eyesight problem, but the vet just shook his head sadly. “Son, your problem is you got yourself an idiot dog.”

Still, she wasn't just any old idiot dog. She was his dog. He loved her.

She began to escape when she was about one. The gate sometimes wouldn't latch after it was closed, and she would push her way out. After that problem was fixed, she learned to dig, no matter how hard with frost the ground was. Once she pushed her Dogloo up against the fence and used it as a step ladder. It was the only time she showed any real intelligence.

Dave always knew where to find her. The damn pond. She would be there, without fail. He wasn't sure why, but she loved that place. If it was frozen, she'd go to the very center and bark at the ice fishers, who'd give her hunks of meat. If it wasn't, she'd take a swim, almost freezing herself to death every time.

That day Dave ran to the pond. It had been abnormally cold for May, despite the lengthening of the days. He wasn't sure if the lake was still frozen. And if it wasn't, then Carumba was likely paddling around in the ice water. If it was frozen, then the ice would be brittle. The forty-pound dog could very well have crashed through.

Dave ran a lot to keep in shape, but he tried to keep it to the roadways. Running in the woods always made him uneasy because of his dreams. But it also awakened something else in him, that strange affinity he had with the forest. His own personal Call of the Wild.

Breathless, he finally arrived at the pond. It was still frozen, though the rangers had put up their “Danger—Thin Ice” signs. The ice fishers were long gone.

And to his horror, Carumba was on the lake, struggling desperately to remove herself from a hole in the ice. All common sense fled Dave, and he rushed onto the lake, half sliding toward his dog. Somehow he kept his balance, and he ignored the loud cracking sounds, the spiderwebs that appeared with each footfall. The last few feet he slid on his stomach like a seal.

A man started hollering at him, calling him a damned fool.

Dave grabbed onto Carumba's front paws and pulled with all he had. She licked at his face as he yanked her slowly from the deadly water. She whimpered as she was set free, but soon her tail wagged like nothing had happened. She quaked uncontrollably.

“Stupid dog,” Dave said, hugging her closely, trying to warm her. “Why do you do this?” She licked his face.

He realized his predicament when he slowly turned, still on his stomach, to plot his trip back to shore. It was only about 200 feet, but it was miles. The ice looked like an upset jigsaw puzzle where his feet had fallen. They couldn't go back that way. He had to stay on his stomach to distribute the weight. He slowly crept to his left, Carumba trailing cautiously behind him. Every crack of ice sounded like a gunshot. Carumba seemed to understand the new danger and began to whimper again.

He looked up, and the man was at the edge of the lake. He was on a phone.

The man yelled something, to not move. But the ice under Dave could go at any minute. He had to keep moving. After about fifty feet, he sensed his dog wasn't behind him anymore. He turned to look, and she was sitting down, her features rigid. Like she was suddenly paralyzed. Or had seen something.

“Come on,” he said.

No response. She didn't even blink. Her hackles began to rise.

“Carumba!” The ice cracked again. A thin line broke across the cold surface, drawn by an invisible pencil. Reluctantly, Dave swiveled around and slid back toward his dog.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Do you see something? Is it a bear?” He peered about but saw nothing. Only the man.

Carumba looked down at him, her eyes suddenly sad. She pushed her muzzle against his head affectionately, keeping it there just for a moment.

When she pulled back, her eyes were different. Those eyes. The eyes. From his dream. He couldn't move, his mind not registering what this meant.

Carumba pounced. She vaulted at him, pinning him to the ice, growling. Her sharp teeth dug into the back of his neck, and she began ripping, tearing at the skin. Through the pain he felt the hot paths of blood against his nearly frozen skin, her strong paws digging at his jacket.

It was his dream. It was really happening. But this wasn't the monster wolf. This was a dog. His dog.

He fought desperately, confusion and fear dulling his reactions. The ice shattered, and they both plunged into the water. Carumba nimbly hopped out as he sunk over his head. He reached up and grabbed the edge of ice, but it broke off and stuck to the skin of his hand. The ice burned like he had touched a hot stove. He screamed underwater, filling his lungs with cold fire.

He tried to swim upwards, but he was no longer underneath the hole. He pounded frantically at the ice. It had seemed so weak and brittle from above, but now it was a solid pane of unbreakable glass. The cold wrapped its fingers around him, pulling him down.

As he drifted down toward the mud of the frozen pond, he could see Carumba standing above, staring down. Blood dripped from her maw, splattering against the ice.

* * *

Carumba. Why? The betrayal still stung, and he was thinking of it when he awakened. It took him a full five seconds to realize he didn't know where he was. He shot up from the small cot, frantically looking around.

He was alone in a suffocating room, like a jail cell. His armored suit was gone. So were all his possessions. Including the melted gun and the three periscepters he carried. Now he wore brown pants and a sleeveless vest, and a red cloak was heavy on his shoulders. Leather boots tightly wrapped his feet and ankles.

A quiet, yellowish light filled the cell, like from a lone street lamp. But there didn't seem to be a source. Or a door. He felt along the smooth walls, but there was no seam. It was noticeably colder here, and the air was musty and stale.

“Hello?” he called. “Indigo? Hitomi? Anyone?”

No answer. His voice didn't seem to even escape the room.

“Hey,” Dave called again, banging his fist against the wall. It made a clunk. He banged the wall again.

The wall vanished, and he fell forward, landing hard on his face. Before him was a pair of black boots. One of them had what appeared to be fresh blood on it. He looked up fearfully. Towering over him was an extremely angry-looking female angel. She was about six and a half feet high with red, dreadlocked hair. She wore black plate armor and had two guns slung over her shoulders to form an X. In one hand she clutched a black metal helmet. Her vaporous wings were collected against her back, covering the weapons. These wings were ghostlike, like he could put his hand right through them.

“Holy cow,” he said.

“If you don't shut your mouth right now, I will rip your voice box from your neck,” she said. “Do you understand?”

He nodded, standing slowly. “Where am I? Where is everyone else?”

“Your location is not important, human. Your friends are safe. You shall be reunited shortly.” She pushed her palm against his chest, and he flew back like a car had hit him. The wall to his cell reappeared, blocking him in.

“Hey,” he called, his chest burning in pain. He opened his mouth to yell again, then thought better of it. He lay there wheezing for several moments. The ache subsided, and he pulled himself up, groaning.

So their captors were angels. At least he thought they were angels. They looked like angels. That was good, wasn't it? If it had been the demons, he suspected they would be dead already. But why the jail? It didn't make sense. Weren't the angels the good guys? Why was this one so mean?

He sat down on the cot, his mind heavy with worry and fear.

It wasn't long before the wall vanished again, revealing three angels. One was the female. A strapping male dressed in the same black armor towered behind her, a mild smirk on his face. The third was another woman, much older with shoulder-length gray hair. She too wore armor, but it was green with gold trim. Unlike the others, she actually had a sword over her shoulder. The ornate handle was worn with use.

The older angel spoke. “Follow us.”

Wordlessly, Dave followed them out of the room. The tunnels were just high enough so he could walk without hitting his head, but the three angels had to stoop, making them noticeably uncomfortable. They walked much slower than he did. The backs of their wings glowed like they had been dipped in glow-in-the-dark paint. He resisted the urge to touch them. The red-headed woman angel would yank his hand out of his wrist.

The tunnel reminded him of the one they had used before to escape the beach. Water dripped from the occasional stone arch. The cold, the musty scent, the tunnels, it suddenly made sense. They were underground. But why would angels live underground like bats?

They came to a gigantic room. A cavern, in fact, The place was the size of a football field. Stalactites and stalagmites filled the room like random teeth. One far wall was frozen, a glacier slowly pushing its way in. Dave's eyes lingered on the blue ice.

At one time a serpentine stream wound through the room, but it was frozen now. The stone around its banks was fissured. Strange purple and yellow mushrooms, big as umbrellas, shot up from the cracks.

In the center of the room was an enormous U-shaped table. The room buzzed with black-armored angels. They all watched as he entered, their dark eyes searing a hole into him. The vacant center throne was covered with ornate carvings. Behind the mighty chair stood six angel guards. They held their weapons at ready.

He was led to the middle of the U. “Stay there,” the older angel said.

She walked around and took her place at the left of the raised center chair. Another older angel appeared, this time a man. He also wore green and gold with a blade. He took the chair on the right, leaving the throne empty.

Hitomi and Gramm were shoved next to him by a pair of angels. They were wild-eyed and bedraggled. They both wore similar clothes. Relief rushed Dave, and he pulled Hitomi into a tight hug. She held onto him tightly.

Angels filled the room, men and women. Hundreds of them. Some had blond or red hair, but an equal number had darker features. Their average height was about six and a half feet tall, with only a few shorter or taller. Those in the black armor were muscled and toned, but some of the ones in robes were slightly overweight. Other than the two older angels, they each seemed to be around thirty years old. Some took seats at the table, and some stood. The throne remained empty.

“Are you guys okay?” Dave asked.

Gramm nodded. “Other than a blooming headache where the guard whacked me. Where's Indigo?”

“I don't know,” Dave said.

“They took the periscepters,” Hitomi said, her voice filled with fear.

Dave nodded. “They took everything.”

“Silence.” The command echoed. It came from the gray woman in her chair. All attention in the room suddenly centered on her.

“Where is Indigo?” Dave demanded, shattering the sudden silence. “Our other friend.”

An energy bolt shot from one of the guards behind the elder. The red light plowed into Dave's chest, the same place the female angel had pushed him. It felt like a sledgehammer. He doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. Hitomi and Gramm grabbed down to help him back up.

“Do as they say,” Hitomi pleaded in his ear, desperation in her voice. “Please.”

“You are to obey the Hashmallim's commands,” the guard barked.

The reactions were puzzling. Many of the angels had obvious looks of disgust, pure hatred even. But some, like the tall male angel who had come to his room, seemed more intrigued.

Dave had the uneasy feeling this was some sort of trial.

“Your concern for your friends is admirable,” the old woman, called the Hashmallim, said, directly to Dave. He met her gaze defiantly. “But ease yourself of that burden for the moment. Your other friend is safe. She is being… questioned.”

Dave narrowed his eyes.

The old woman smiled slightly, but only for a flash. He noticed something unsettling. When she blinked, her male counterpart on the other side of the throne also blinked. At the exact same time. Bizarre.

“How did you come to be on the battlefield?” she asked.

Gramm spoke. “We came through the forest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And how did you get to the forest?”

“We just appeared there,” Dave said. “On a platform thing. After we died.”

Murmuring quickly arose from the gathered angels.

She stared at them for a long time. “Which one?” she said finally.

They looked at each other. Dave shrugged. “We didn't know there was more than one. We found our clothes and some of the other things you stole from us there.”

A male angel jumped up from the table. “They are lying! Spies!” A few grumbled their consent.

Another stood. “Even the Dominion wouldn't be foolish enough to use humans as spies.”

“That's exactly why they would do it.”

More quick talking and arguing. Murmurs of “Get rid of them!” and “Kill the spies” arose, sending chills through Dave.

“Silence!” a guard called out. The uproar died down.

The Hashmallim lifted her hand, and an angel in yellow robes stepped forward, carrying a fluffy, green pillow. Carefully laid out were the ten periscepters. The younger angel painstakingly placed them in front of the Hasmallim, like he was handling a bomb. He quickly retreated. She picked one up, gripping it tightly. The room was utterly silent.

“Do you know what these are?” the old angel asked.

Hitomi spoke for the first time. “Periscepters. They belong to my friends and me.”

Angry muttering rose again, but the guard quickly quelled it.

“Where did you hear that word? Who gave these to you?”

Dave and Hitomi and Gramm looked at one another. Gramm shrugged.

“Do you want the long version or the short one?” Gramm asked.

The Hashmallim leaned back in her chair. It squeaked loudly, echoing in the chamber. “Tell it all,” she said.

So Gramm told the whole story, from the moment they had arrived at the beach. Dave quickly learned two things. One, Gramm was an excellent storyteller. A natural speaker. His Australian accent was soothing. Two, the angels were fascinated by it. They paid rapt attention. It seemed the tide started to change. If they didn't believe their story, they no longer showed any signs. Soon, even the Hashmallim's mouth was open with awe.

When Gramm got to the part of the Tree of Eternity, the angel asked several questions about the Unraveler. She seemed skeptical not of their story, but of the creature's promises. When Gramm told of the attack by the flying demons, several angels gasped.

Finally, after Gramm finished, the Hashmallim said, “So the other three periscepters are with your friend, this Rico?”

Gramm shook his head. “He has two.”

She frowned. “Then where's the last one?”

Gramm shrugged. “We had twelve of them. I don't know about another one. The Unraveler said there were thirteen, but he didn't say where the last one was.”

She exchanged a look with the other man in the green and gold. “Perhaps you left one at the pyramid?”

“The what?” Gramm asked.

“The platform you described. It's a pyramid, and you were at the top. Was the last periscepter left there?”

“Maybe.”

She nodded slightly. From the corner of his eye, Dave saw movement. Several of the angels in black were hurrying out into a dark chamber.

“You,” she said, meaning Hitomi. “Approach and operate this periscepter.”

Hitomi paused. “I don't want to hurt anyone.”

Several of the angels laughed. It was musical sounding, light in the air. Not human at all, more like the sound of a dolphin.

“Young human, if you could hurt anyone here with this weapon, I would be glad beyond my cycles you had done it. It injures only soldiers of the Dominion. Those who are damaged by the True Light.”

Hitomi meekly stepped forward. Dave was struck by how fragile she looked. She grabbed the periscepter and turned it on. Light filled the cavern. She swept the beam across the congregation. They gasped in unison. Some of them, especially the fatter ones in robes, dropped to their knees in prayer. Some even wept. Hitomi placed the light back on the table.

“No,” the Hashmallim said. “It is yours. They all are.”

A muttering rose from the crowd, but no outbursts. Hitomi gathered up the periscepters and brought them back. She and Gramm took three, Dave had four. They slipped easily into a loop on the side of Dave's belt, almost like it had been made for that purpose. The others did the same.

“Where is Indigo?” Dave called out again.

The guard pointed his weapon, but the Hashmallim held up her hand. “Bring her.”

A guard led her in from another chamber. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she was naked. Her body was covered with welts, as if they had been whipping her. Dave gasped. He ran to her, and she collapsed in his arms. Her breathing was quick. Bruises littered her face. Blood seeped down her leg. They had been torturing her.

“Animals!” he screamed. “Why did you do this? Where are her clothes?”

“It's okay,” Indigo whispered.

“You're lucky she still breathes, Human,” the Hashmallim said calmly.

“Get her some clothes,” Dave demanded. “Now.”

“Humans do not give orders to the Hashmallim,” the guard barked.

“She is a criminal,” the Hashmallim said. “And it is forbidden for criminals to cover evidence of their crime. She will remain unclothed.”

“What crime?” Dave demanded. The guard trembled like a tied-up dog.

“She bears the cicatrix. That is evidence enough.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dave demanded.

The Hashmallim addressed him as if she was speaking to a small child. “It means your friend isn't human at all. Nor is she an angel.” She spit. “Not anymore, at least.”

9

Indigo - The Hashmallim

Indigo awakened fastened to a wooden pole in a dark room. Her hands and feet screamed with pain. A thick spike impaled both her hands and her feet, attaching her to the wood. The acid nail was simultaneously warm and ice-cold, a living thing, the fang of a serpent. Her pulse throbbed in the wounds. She was naked, and she felt filthy. The taste of blood was ripe in her mouth.

“Cowards,” she said, grunting in pain.

A form rushed her from the darkness. It was an angel, all in black armor. Its ethereal wings were completely spread, filling the room, wrapping along the edges of the wall. A hand grabbed her throat. The powerful grip began to squeeze. The lights switched on.

It was a female angel. She had dreadlocked hair, blazing red. She held a helmet in her left hand.

“Coward?” The angel said. “This is your first word?” The grip continued to squeeze. Indigo tried not to appear afraid.

Eventually, almost reluctantly, the grip on her neck released.

Indigo wheezed. “Where are my friends? What have you done with them?”

The angel swung her helmet at Indigo's face. Her cheek exploded in pain. She felt the bones shatter.

“Do not ask questions of me, worm.” A long pause. “You don't remember a thing, do you?”

Indigo labored for each breath. Every movement caused the agony in her hands and face to flare. “No. No, I don't.”

“It's not uncommon,” the angel said. “Sometimes when those like you return, their memory is gone forever.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

The angel nodded, malice burning in her eyes. “It doesn't matter.”

“What did I do? When did I do it?”

“You bear the cicatrix. You shall remain unclothed so all can see your shame.”

“The what?” Indigo said. It was difficult to speak. She felt like she was suffocating.

“The scars. They stain your skin, showing all where your mighty wings once were.”

Indigo just stared at the red-haired angel. The revelation hit her like a snap kick to the stomach. “I'm an angel?”

The tall creature laughed without humor. “Once. Once. Now you're nothing. You died by your own hand, hurtling yourself into one of the human worlds. Now that you've returned, that scar is shown.” She moved her face so it was almost touching Indigo's. Her breath was hot against her skin. “You chose the coward's way out, instead of fighting for your brothers and sisters.”

I was an angel? Holy crap. “I don't remember any of this. Not at all.”

“Irrelevant. The cicatrix does not lie.” The angel smashed the helmet into Indigo's midriff.

The bolt impaling Indigo's palm hands tore as she sagged. She didn't know if she could take this much longer. She couldn't speak for several moments. Eventually, she found her words. “What's going to happen to me?”

The angel paced the room. This woman, this angel. She's not right, Indigo thought.

“Normally you'd be cast out, left to fend for yourself. But circumstances have changed. I suspect the cabinet will simply execute you.”

Execute? “Wait a second. For something I don't remember two lifetimes ago?”

“Yes. You're being held accountable for your cowardice. For the fall of an infinite number of soldiers. For all my friends who died defending holes in the lines left by those like you.”

The forms of three angels darkened the entranceway to the room. All male. “They hold you accountable also.”

They came at her, hands curled into fists. Indigo closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself someplace else. But all she could think of was a punching bag, and of her father pushing her over again and again.

* * *

The Hashmallim shifted uneasily. He looked across the empty throne at his female counterpart, his Pendant. She was also perplexed. More so than him, even. Under ideal circumstances, it was rare for two Pendants of the Hashmallim duality to be so close. Their lives were connected, as were their thoughts and emotions. The closer they were, the more pronounced their eternal connection.

Surely these humans were the ones spoken of in the prophecy. But questions remained, many incongruities with the original lore. It was written four humans were to come, which there were. But a fifth was out there, assuming he wasn't already dead.

It said nothing about one of them being a fallen angel, either.

And the thirteenth periscepter. That was the most disturbing of all. Without the thirteenth one, the other twelve were useful solely as weapons. The two other periscepters that were lost with this Rico was bad enough. The Dahhak was already being tracked. They tracked all enemy movements above the base, and they had immediately sensed it was carrying a human. When they found the other four had the periscepters, but only ten of them, they immediately dispatched a wing after the Dahhak. The Hashmallim had been angered to learn Tamael had only dispatched engineers after the Dahhak. The fiery officer didn't believe in the importance of this, didn't think it was worthy to lose her best soldiers over.

The Hashmallim contemplated calling them back. Even if they managed to gather all twelve periscepters, that thirteenth one would be their undoing. But he couldn't order their return. If they somehow recovered the last one, but lost their chance at these two, it would be unforgivable. Besides, he was Hashmallim. He didn't rescind orders.

As much as it pained him, he decided to trust in the prophecy. To have faith. The humans would be released to find their fate. So it had been written a millennia ago.

But the current question was of this fallen angel. The bearer of the cicatrix. She was now more human than anything. Born and died a human. He had stopped the Powers from beating her to death, but only barely. She stood before him now, being tended to by her friends. She was a pitiful sight, like a mongrel starving in the forest. The tide of distrust against the humans had changed with their account of their tribulations. It would not be so easy for this one, this Indigo. He wondered what her true name was. What sort of angel she was. She would likely never remember. Would these humans still care for her if they knew what the scars on her back truly meant? He did not know. Humans were complicated creatures.

But what should he do with her?

Anything other than an execution would enrage them. But he and his Pendant agreed. Too much death already. And her role in the prophecy was unknown, and her execution could send everything reeling. Prophecies were exceedingly fragile things, for the future is pliable like clay. One mistake and everything crumbles.

It would be best to stand down. Let the humans find their own path. He and his Pendant looked at each other from across His throne.

I pray we are making the right choice, she thought.

Choice? We have no choice, therefore the burden is not truly ours.

Several Powers were speaking in turn, though the Hashmallim had tuned them out hours ago. The humans were watching in horror as angel after angel stood and demanded execution for the traitorous fallen angel. Some even spit at her, inciting an angry reaction from the one human named Dave. He was strong and persistent, though foolish. Four blasts from the guard's weapon, and still he fought.

The male Hashmallim spoke for the first time since the cabinet meeting began. He cleared his throat—a trick he had learned long ago from humans—and the room became instantly silent. “After she has been healed, the fallen angel is to be cast out of our sanctuary, along with her companions. Until then, she shall remain unharmed.”

The roar of protest was deafening. Several Powers jumped to their feet, waving their weapons. Some even surged forward, as if to rush the two Hashmallim.

“She'll give away our location!” “She can't be trusted!”

“You're putting us all in danger!”

He watched sadly. There was a time, not so long ago, when an order from a Hashmallim was followed explicitly. No complaints, no grumbling. The angel castes were accepted and followed. It was His rule. His law. Unbreakable. Unquestionable.

But that was all before The Fall. Before everything changed. Now, every command was doubted. Soon the Hashmallim feared they would turn on each other. Times of strife had a way of upending even the deepest roots of resentment and hate.

He could take the discord no more. “Silence,” he thundered, rising from his chair. The cacophony died down immediately, the angels looking at him in shock. Hashmallim rarely raised their voices. But when they did, it was with the sound of a thousand choirs. Dust cascaded from the ceiling of the chamber. The four humans were on the ground, covering their ears in terror.

“We have spoken. And our rule is final.”

Some continued to grumble, but the rebellion had been quelled. For now.

“I declare this meeting adjourned,” his Pendant said.

The cave slowly drained of the cabinet and the onlookers.

Colonel Tamael stopped before his chair. Her eyes blazed with an anger redder even than her hair. She held her ever-present helmet to her side. The Hashmallim noticed a splash of blood on the side of it.

“Why is the prisoner being let go?” Tamael demanded.

The Hashmallim sighed. Tamael was an excellent military leader, but in the ways of politics and diplomacy, she was greatly lacking in tact. He decided to simply tell her the truth. “We don't yet know her role in the prophecy. To execute her could be a disaster.”

She blinked, apparently surprised at his frankness. “The soldiers do not like it. Her very presence lowers morale.”

“She will be gone soon enough.”

She shook her head. “Make it as soon as possible, Hashmallim.” She turned and strode from the room.

He turned and looked at his Pendant. She was exhausted already. Her discomfort was his, weighing him down.

Have we made the correct decision? She wondered.

He shook his head. He wanted to reach out to her, touch her. It would be the end of them. Already, they were too close. Still, the urge was almost unbearable. It's in the hands of time now.

10

Indigo - Yehppael

They no longer separated them, but they were locked in the cell they had kept Dave in. Indigo still felt terribly weak. A tray with an unrecognizable yellow fruit and a clay pitcher of water was shoved brusquely into the room. The pitcher fell over, spilling half the water. Gramm and Dave laid Indigo gently onto the cot. Her entire body ached, but she could feel it slowly healing already.

Hitomi blotted Indigo's wounds with a washcloth provided on the tray. They were silent for a long time, none of them wanting to talk about what had just happened.

Dave removed his cloak and pulled it around the naked Indigo. She wore it like a blanket.

Gramm finally asked the question. “Is it true?”

Indigo looked at him. There was no malice or anger in his voice, but a tinge of sadness. As if she had betrayed him somehow.

“I don't know.”

“But I thought you remembered some things about being a person?” Dave asked.

“I do. I was a person. I am a person. If I was an angel, it was before I was a human. I did something to turn myself from angel to person.”

“I guess that pisses them off,” he said.

Indigo grunted. It hurt to laugh. “I guess it does.”

“What did they do to you?” Hitomi asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Indigo related her tale, slowly and without emotion. Starting from awakening nailed to the wooden stake through to the end, when they used the serrated knives to cut strips of flesh from her legs, laughing, making her taste her own blood. Finally the older angel had come and told them to stop.

No one knew what to say. Hitomi stood there with her hand covering her mouth.

A knock came at the wall, and it opened. A large male angel peeked in.

“May I enter?” he asked.

“Get the hell out of here!” Dave said, stepping between Indigo and him. “Haven't you done enough?”

He stepped into the room anyway. The angel was large, well-muscled. He was built like a linebacker. Yet, he had an oddly boyish, almost innocent look to his eyes, making him look younger than many of the others. This was not one of the angels who had beaten her earlier.

“Please,” the angel said. His closed wings drooped sadly. “I took no part in hurting her. My name is Colonel Yehppael, and I'm second in charge of the military force we have here. I hope to ask you some questions.”

Dave said nothing, just glared, and neither Hitomi nor Gramm seemed to be able to find their tongues.

“Come in,” Indigo said.

He seemed relieved. “Thank you,” he said. The wall closed behind him. The room was now uncomfortably crowded. His wing brushed against Gramm, and he flinched away in surprise, as if it had shocked him. The angel smiled apologetically. He stood in the center of the room while the others retreated to the corners.

“We'll answer your questions if you bring her some clothes,” Dave said.

“I can't overrule the law of the Hashmallim. Their commands are law.”

“It didn't seem that way to me,” Gramm muttered.

“Then you misinterpreted. They are our commanders.”

“Then these Hashmallim suck,” Dave said. “Torturing her? Making her remain naked? It is cruel.”

A bit of color rose in Yehppael's cheeks, but the angel didn't seem angry. “You should be grateful. If the Hashmallim hadn't intervened, you'd all be dead now. Perchance you weren't watching, they called for your blood in the cabinet meeting.”

“Well, Colonel,” Indigo said, “what would you like to know?”

He appeared genuinely pleased. “Tell me about your world. What is it called? How many of there are you? Do you have war?”

The words rushed out of the angel all at once. In a flash, he'd gone from large, imposing military commander to a little boy.

“Are you saying you've never had someone tell you about Earth before?” Dave asked, his voice still full of belligerence. “Why the sudden interest?”

Yehppael laughed. It was more of a snort, but his mirth was evident. “Do you believe humans come from only one world? Son, there are billions of your worlds. And at least one beacon pyramid has been built for each. Usually much more as their populations grow.”

That revelation seemed to stun both Dave and Gramm. Did it surprise her? It didn't seem to. Indigo sighed, adjusting in the uncomfortable cot. Nothing surprised her anymore.

“Geez, how big is this place?” Dave asked, his own anger replaced with wonder. “You must have people all over! Do they all look like us?”

“Angels far outnumber the humans. Or they did. And they mostly look the same, with a few differences speckling the population.”

Gramm shook his head. “Amazing,” he said.

Dave leaned forward. “You're saying there's a billion worlds, all with thousands of people dying a day, which adds up to trillions a day, and the angels still 'far outnumber' them. That's insane.”

The angel averted his eyes. “In your tale, you spoke of a beach so deep it covered the entire beacon, all the way to the apex. The beach stretched beyond the realm of your vision.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“That place is no beach. It is a cemetery. Every grain of sand is an angel fallen in battle. Why the sand collects there is unknown, but the wind carries it to that place.” He looked at each of them, a deep sadness etched into his features. “Most of those I called friend are buried there.”

Dave slowly slid down the wall to the floor. “Holy shit.”

Indigo was staggered. She sat up from her cot in surprise. She remembered throwing the holographic angel in the sand, and its reaction. It had demanded to be let out, but she refused. She had stepped on the sand, sunk into it, let it slip through her fingers like water. She felt like she was going to throw up.

“How… what happened?” she asked.

“That is not a story I wish to tell. Not now. But you will learn, and you'll forever curse the moment it is told to you. It will fester in your ears and disease your entire soul.”

Gramm was suddenly on his knees. He was dry heaving onto the stone ground.

The angel watched him, suddenly emotionless. Hitomi moved forward and rubbed Gramm's back.

“Please,” Yehppael said. “Tell me about your world. Tell me about your trees, your oceans, your birds.”

Remarkably, Hitomi spoke. She sat in the corner and talked for a long time, describing everything from butterflies to elephants to the tsunami, earthquakes, and volcanoes of Japan. She had a certain passion about her, especially when she spoke of things like nature and animals, something Indigo hadn't noticed before. It was, by far, the most the slight girl had ever said at once. With her almost emotionless personality, this hidden aspect of her was strange and perplexing.

The angel sat on the floor, hugging his knees with his eyes closed as she told her tale. The wisps of his closed wings waved like tattered sheets in a slight breeze. Indigo thought he had fallen asleep a few times, but he would sometimes ask simple questions. As if he was imagining himself there.

“What an amazing place,” he said when she was finished. He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply. His arms bristled with power and sinew.

“Why do the angels hate us?” Dave asked.

Yehppael's eyes snapped open, as if he had been jolted awake. The dreamy look was gone. The angel sighed. “It's complicated. And not all of us feel the same.”

Dave persisted. “I would like to know why.”

Yehppael sighed again, standing up. He straightened his armor. “Like I said, it's a long and tangled story.”

Dave just looked at him, awaiting an answer.

“I would like to know that myself,” Gramm said. Hitomi nodded.

“Very well. I shall give you a succinct version, for I have much to attend to.” He eyed the wall, as if afraid someone might come in.

“Humans are relatively new to this world, and most of us can remember when you were first brought into existence. To us, you were just a light in a glass globe, another one of His experiments. You were never meant to grow or have intelligence. But in time you did grow, and you evolved. And not just in isolated cases, but in a billion of the tiny worlds.

“He decided not to terminate you like so many wanted. Instead, He had a plan. To bring you into this world, our world when you died. He commanded we build the beacons, the giant pyramids. One for each world at first. They were placed on the outskirts of our world, at the edge of the ether. How they work is unknown to me, but once a soul was released, it came to the beacon tuned to your particular world.

“New castes of angels were created simply to deal with the humans and their worlds. One of these strains, the Virtues, were considered even higher than the Powers. We had to build cities for these humans, cater to them. Even then, when the humans were few, many had become uneasy with this new arrangement.

“After the humans came, the demons began to raid our world. Many believe it to be more than a coincidence. Our ancient duty was resurrected, and we once again found ourselves constantly throwing back assaults.

“We begged Him to destroy the Sphere which held your worlds, but He would not. Instead, He began to speak of another world that would someday hold us all. There would be no more castes, no more war. Everyone, everything would be equal.

“We were astonished and betrayed. The humans would be our equals? They huddled and cowered at the sight of a single Dahhak while we dove headfirst into battle to defend them. Many of their worlds had self-destructed in their hands. Some of the especially distraught angels revolted. And though I didn't want to, I was forced to fight against my own brothers and sisters. After a terrible war, we cast the traitors out.

“Soon after, He abandoned us. He left to create this new world, but He has been gone long enough that many believe He will never return. Though most remain faithful, and even observe the old customs, like placing a chair for Him at all gatherings, many waver in their faith. And when they see humans such as yourselves, many have difficulty holding back their venom. For it is your fault, they believe. It is because of your kind this fate has befallen us.”

Indigo tried to absorb all of it. It was just too much. She closed her eyes.

“How did you come here in these caves?” Dave asked, almost breathless.

“Before a battle, several rally points are determined by the war AIs. These caves were one of them. Underground. Easy to conceal. An insignificant engineering post was already here, but it was never completely built. A transport had been evacuating the engineers out in the field, but their ship had been shot down while attempting to pick up the workers here, stranding them all. Some of the others you'll see are Powers from various squads that had come to this rally point to regroup. I was protecting the Hashmallim's convoy when we were shot down.

“We've scavenged parts, and we've created an excellent defense, radar, and communication system. That was also how you were initially apprehended. The helmet under which you took shelter houses one of many underground defense mechanisms, and we couldn't allow you to remain there. If the demons had successfully tracked you, they may have discovered the defense battery.”

Yehppael opened the entrance to the chamber. “There is much more to tell, of course. But I must be on my way.” He looked at Indigo. “Your injuries will heal. All except for the scar on your face. Shoal blood scars even humans permanently. I'll speak with the Hashmallim, perhaps arrange for clothes to be given to you that'll offer protection yet still show evidence of your crime.”

“Wait,” Indigo said. He paused.

“I want to hear about those angels like me. Those who became human.”

Yehppael narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He left, closing the wall behind him, locking them in. They all looked at each other, no one saying anything.

Indigo pulled Dave's cloak around herself tightly, suddenly very cold.

* * *

Yehppael went straight to his chamber and recorded everything in his journal. The humans fascinated him, especially their lush worlds. Before The Fall he often went to the Athenaeum, where the Sphere was on display. But he could only study the worlds using the scope.

He would watch jealously as the Virtues absorbed into the human universe. Oh to visit those places! Any of the worlds, even the ones that were dead. Just to be able to see someplace new.

He had an intense thirst for knowledge of different worlds. He would often quiz humans on their homelands if they were willing to speak with him. He recorded everything he could. The upper chambers of the Athenaeum held volumes upon volumes about each of the human worlds, but only the upper castes were allowed access. So he was writing his own book, and he would make it available to everyone.

If anyone is left alive to read it.

These humans were the first he had seen in many cycles. And what a wonderful world they came from! Such a variety of animals and cultures. They even looked different from each other, which was rare. And to think they could possibly be the ones. The ones who could save them all.

The door to his chamber opened and Tamael stormed in. She was in a foul mood, and she thrust her helmet across the room. It clattered loudly against the wall. He frowned at the dried blood on the helmet.

“The soldiers are not happy,” she said. Her fiery hair swept before her eyes.

He stood from his desk and pulled her into a deep hug. She held onto him fervently. Wisps of their wings entangled, and he pulled some of the dark energy from her, bringing it into himself. She squeezed him gratefully.

“They are never happy,” he said.

“The humans are dropping the morale,” she said, her voice muffled by his armor.

“They seemed to be enraptured by the humans' tale.”

“A lie they say now.”

“They are telling the truth,” Yehppael said.

She pulled back. “How do you know?”

“I can sense it.”

She nodded thoughtfully. Yehppael knew that Tamael trusted his senses, especially when it came to humans. They often disagreed over their attitudes toward the species, but she was aware that he knew humans better than any of their caste.

“Many are asking to disobey the Hashmallim,” she said. “To kill the traitor.”

That was disturbing. As much as Yehppael was repulsed by the caste system of the angels, the military chain of command couldn't waver. Not now.

Tamael was searching for guidance. She would never directly ask. He was merely second in command. A few hundred Powers, and six thousand common angels, mostly engineers. And most of those had never lifted a weapon in anger. They were exceptionally good at what they did—which was build and design things. But when it came to actual battle, they were untested. And the stress of that knowledge weighed heavily on them.

“Second only to the Hashmallim,” Yehppael said, “you are our leader. It is by your example they follow. We can't allow a revolt. It would be our undoing.”

“Do you think the prophecies are real?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “The Hashmallim believe in them. And the periscepters are real, and many were skeptical of their existence. And if they believe the girl is an integral part of the prophecy, it would be pragmatic for us all to do the same.”

Tamael stretched out on the low resting perch. “I haven't the intelligence or patience for this type of leadership,” she said. “I wasn't bred for it.”

“We never expected we'd end up living in a hole in the ground, either. Hiding like rodents. If the prophecy is true, and if these humans are the ones spoken of, and if they succeed, we'll finally be free.”

“That's too many ifs,” she said.

“If you can't keep the soldiers in line, we'll never know.”

She sighed. “Very true.”

Tamael abruptly jumped up and headed for the door, an unheard radio request buzzing in her ear. A leader's work was never done, Yehppael thought ruefully.

“Follow me to the command center.”

He felt a tingle of fear. “The assault team?”

“Yes. They've located the Dahhak and the human. He's been taken to one of their blasted temples.”

Yehppael quickly grasped Tamael's helmet and shoved it into her arms. She always carried it with her.

He hadn't known her before the attack, but he sensed whatever had happened had changed her dramatically. She was always on the alert, and her helmet was always within arms reach. On the rare occasions she was without it, she seemed preoccupied and ineffective as a leader, as if mulling over the fact it was out of her sight.

Then what she'd said registered. “A temple? And we're still going through with the raid?”

“The Hashmallim have ordered the return of the periscepters. And the human.” She spoke sharply into her radio then looked back up. “I don't see how we can avoid it.”

“At least let us do it right. I can have a force assembled and on their way in an hour. This is just twenty-four soldiers. Engineers.”

“We don't have time.”

“This is a Temple. It's suicide.”

“The Hashmallim have issued their orders. Like you said, we must follow them.”

Yehppael sighed. A strange sadness always crept upon him when he was about to do battle. Especially when he wasn't actually in the fray, but commanding it from afar, out of danger. Every wound, every death, whether it be enemy or comrade, hurt him like a physical blow.

“Let's go,” he said.

11

Rico - Ungeo

Rico dreamt he was flying.

When he awakened, he realized with terror he actually was. He was several hundred feet in the sky, clutched to the chest of the demon. His forehead throbbed, and it felt as if it had been caved in with a damn sledgehammer. The demon's strong arm pinned him against its chest. He dared not struggle in fear of being dropped. The creature stunk like chorizo gone bad, and he had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up.

Oh, Jesus. He wanted to scream. Hitomi had been right all along. This was no heaven, but someplace much, much worse. A world of demons.

His left arm was free, and he slowly rubbed his head. The bone was tender to the touch, and Rico wondered if it had been smashed in. He remembered the thing flying right at him, but after that everything was a blank. Why does this always happen to me?

Maybe he was the only one still alive. Maybe the things had offed the others. But why keep him? Why was he so special?

The demon sensed he was awake and tightened its grip, making it so it was hard to breathe, despite the protection of his suit. It said something in a harsh, deep-throated language, one Rico couldn't understand.

What can I do? He desperately searched for options. He considered trying to twist out of the demon's clutch so he would be dropped. Maybe the suit would protect him. But he remained frozen. You're a damn coward.

The periscepters. He had two in his pack, and he might be able to get his hands on one. If Hitomi and Indigo could get a light out of theirs, surely he could manage a killing burst with the thing.

He twisted his arm, slipping it between his back and the creature. It was awkward, but his fingers brushed against one of the black weapons. He prayed the monster wouldn't figure out what he was doing.

He slowly pulled the light from the pack as if it were a live grenade. He didn't want to drop it, but he didn't want it to go off prematurely.

They flew above a field of grass, green blades whipping like knives in the breeze. Bones and crashed, blown-apart vehicles dotted the fields. The massive, fleshy wings of the beast beat fast, and it grunted with the effort of carrying him.

“I hope you have a heart attack,” Rico grumbled. The demon squeezed him in response. His chest filled with pain.

He had to wait for the right moment to use the periscepter. His chances of actually getting the thing to work were slim, but it was his last strand of hope. The monster had to land sometime. He'd have his chance then.

Something appeared in the distance, floating in the sky. As they came closer, the huge, ominous form took shape. It was a mountain hovering upside down, like it had been ripped violently from the ground.

A small but busy town bustled on the floating hunk of rock. About two hundred lightbulb-shaped buildings stood in triangular patterns of three. They were made of a brown material, not unlike the adobe structures of his hometown. In the center of the floating, inverted mountain was a tower made of stone and glass. Even from a distance, Rico could make out features on the gigantic building. Its base was thin like the lesser structures, but its bulbous top was disproportionately immense, making it look like a mushroom cloud. There was no foliage anywhere, making the floating town dull and forbidding.

The demons were everywhere, flying to and from the rocky platform, between buildings, and in countless groups around the rock base, which also seemed to house tunnels and structures. Most of the activity centered around the mysterious tower.

Rico wasn't going to get a chance to escape. Even if he could use the periscepter, by the time it would be safe to fire it, they'd be over the floating town. He'd never be able to hold off them all. Defeated, he slid the periscepter back into his pack. Oh god, what was going to happen to him?

Most of the demons in the town were like his captor. Human looking, but taller with the bat wings. Most wore armor and weapons. They were almost like dark elves from one of his games.

There were other demons too, creatures out of a nightmare. A swarm of tiny, glowing brown demons zoomed by Rico's head. They were like rats with insect wings and armor. Each carried a tiny gun, no larger than a coin. One stopped to look at Rico, only inches from his head. It had red eyes. It gave a smirk, then buzzed off.

They were now over the platform. They arced down between the buildings, which were taller than he had originally guessed. To Rico's astonishment, a few humans were also walking about on the ground, almost swallowed by the shadows, but distinguishable. Some carried heavy bundles on their backs, while others just seemed to be aimlessly wandering the stone and dirt streets. They all wore the same black cloaks. They all walked in the same, hunched over manner.

“Hey,” he called. “Help me! Somebody!”

Only one human looked up. A woman with dark hair. He had a momentary view of her as they soared past. Her skin was covered with red welts, and she was peppered with black dots, as if she had been marked up with a pen. She watched him pass with eyes devoid of life or hope. The blank look on her face was terrifying.

What were the humans doing here? Were they really people, or just something that looked human?

The demon angled up toward the top of the main tower.

Rico was abruptly dropped to a small landing platform near the top of the mighty tower. He skid forward with a humph. He jumped to his feet, turning to face the demon. His legs were cramped and sore, a feeling completely foreign to him. His knees buckled, and he fell forward.

The demon reached down with a clawed hand and picked him up by his hair. His scalp felt as though it was ripping from his skull, a knife of fresh pain shooting through his head.

They were plunged into complete, utter darkness. His screams echoed, like they were in a cavernous chamber. He was swung like a handbag as they walked through the room. The demon could see just fine in the darkness. His footfalls were sure and steady. A rotten odor, like the smell of a dead and bloated dog, filled the room, and bugs buzzed about. A noise emanated from all around, a low humming. Occasionally Rico's feet would scrape against the ground, which felt like polished stone. Marble, like the platform on the beach.

Rico's sixth sense felt another presence here, watching them. The hair on his arms tingled. The stone ground smacked hard against his cheek as he was dropped. He lay there, no longer willing to move.

The demon began to speak with another creature in its mystic language. Whatever was in this room was coiled all around them, not touching, but close enough Rico could sense its aura. Like a snake. Its voice was strong, each word a physical blow.

The two creatures began to argue, the demon raising its voice and speaking quickly. A musty odor rose in the room, but it was soon replaced by a thicker, overpowering scent. Like vinegar.

The invisible creature seemed to have won the argument because the demon made one last plea and was given a sharp, quick sentence in response. Rico was picked back up and once again dragged by the hair. The demon swung Rico about savagely. He struggled but was cuffed against the side of his head.

“Fuck you!” Rico shouted. In anger, he kicked his feet and, to his surprise, his foot snagged onto something he couldn't see in the dark room. He yanked his leg, and the demon dropped him. Rico hit the ground hard. His hand brushed against a fleshy mass of some sort. In a panic, he fumbled for the periscepter and found it. He pulled it out, not knowing where to aim. He squeezed the handle and prayed.

To Rico's utter amazement, light burst forth. It only worked for a few precious seconds. Rico felt his own life energy sap out of him and into the periscepter. It felt as if he was hit by a bowling ball right in the stomach. He fell over, dropping the periscepter in surprise. The brief image of the room, and its colossal occupant, staggered him.

The chamber was a slaughterhouse. Creatures and animals of all sorts were hung against the wall and tied to stakes in the room. They were naked and dead. Tubes erupted from them, and blood and other fluids were being sucked out.

He hadn't bumped into the monstrosity, but a dead human on a stake. Or an almost human. She had gills on the side of her neck, but everything else looked to be in the right place. Her open eyes screamed in agony and terror. Her yellow flesh was bubbled like fried cheese. The tubes in her body slurped at nothing but dust and air.

But the keeper of this butchery. That was the true nightmare. Rico froze at the sight of the monster, the horror drowning him.

Its body was that of a millipede, curling around the room several times, like a snake in a basket, its black segmented body twitching, turning, pulsating. In the spaces around its body were the victims, hung like pictures on the wall, and the tubes draining them all led to various points along the monster's body.

The monstrosity's oblong head was dominated by a pair of fragmented insect eyes. But the individual fragments weren't mirrors, like on flies. These were actual eyes. Human-like eyes. Hundreds of them on each side. They worked independent of each other, moving all around. The mouth was a jagged opening between the eyes. A pair of hooked pinchers thrashed like scythes.

This mouth opened and screamed with anguish as Rico's quick burst cut the millipede right in half. Several segments clumped off the wall like a severed rope and flopped to the floor of the chamber, knocking over draining bodies, getting the tubes jumbled.

The darkness returned to the room. The monster thrashed about, screaming. The dark elf demon thing who had brought Rico here was on him now, holding him to the ground, shrieking. It put its foot on Rico's head and began to crush. A clawed hand reached down and wrenched his hair.

The pain became unbearable. A thousand razor blades itching at his scalp. Digging. Finding the nerves and twisting them. Peeling away his skin violently. Rico slipped willingly back to unconsciousness.

* * *

Mid-Commander Ungeo G'sslom stood before an irate Overseer. The worthless arch-demon kept pounding his enormous fist, larger even than Ungeo's head, into the wall in anger. Rock rained from the chamber ceiling, and Ungeo stood uneasily as the stone shattered dangerously around her.

Naked human slaves crawled over the equally-naked demon, like ants scrabbling on a hill. They were busy gratifying the Overseer's many pleasure nodes that sprouted like hair from his paunch and back. A rock bounced off a slave's head, and she tumbled down the fleshy mountain, landing in a heap on the floor. Attendants came and dragged the body away, replacing it with another human female, this one practically a child. The crying girl was prodded with shock sticks until she reached a pleasure node and opened her mouth as she had been trained.

A jagged chunk of the ceiling fell, sending bits of rock into Ungeo's wing. Damn this Overseer. How can soldiers respect their leaders if they're too stupid to maintain suitable headquarters? The previous building had collapsed, killing a quarter of his staff.

The demon's nostrils flared. Ko, the Overseer's Geyrun assistant, tittered nervously. Slaves tumbled off the Overseer like water droplets. The hard-at-work staff tried with great difficulty to ignore their leader's tirade. Each had their wings discreetly poised to flee just in case of another building collapse,

“Ambushed! And no periscepters. I should've known it was a hoax.” The Overseer turned to a passing Dahhak officer. “Send a communiqué to the council. Demand more support.”

“Uh…yes sir,” he mumbled, then hurried off. The officer likely had nothing to do with communications, nor was it his duty to relay messages from the Overseer, but that was how the incompetent beast led. Haphazardly. A fool. Preoccupied with his own pleasure over duty, like all Overseers.

They had won the war despite the Overseers, not because of them. It was the one rank within the Dominion monopolized by a specific race. Of all the aspects of the Angel hierarchy to emulate, their caste system had to be the worst. The Council of Twelve had agreed to Overseer control of the military in exchange for their joining the twelve other worlds in war. The Overseers hadn't wanted a seat on the council, but a promised rank for all their kind, regardless of competence. In exchange for field control of the military, they'd offer the mighty, towering beasts that had been necessary in the initial assault.

“There'll be an investigation, of course,” the Overseer said, stroking its long chin. The corpulent demon still trembled with anger. He flicked at a slave, and she flew across the room, hitting the wall with a crunch. Ko snapped his long fingers, and she was quickly replaced, this time by a terrified-looking male.

“Of course, my Lord.” The Charun tried not to let her anxiety show through. This was the all-important moment.

“Very well, then. You're dismissed.”

Ungeo saluted and quickly turned from the Overseer. Too quickly. An unfamiliar jolt of fear ran through her. The Overseer cleared his throat. Damn that fool.

“Wait a moment, Charun. It's your duty to investigate these matters, is it not?” he said.

She slowly turned back to face the demon. She had to choose her words carefully. Her career, her very life, depended on what she said next. “I will relegate it to an uninvolved third party, Lord.”

He regarded her for a long moment with those lecherous eyes. She imagined herself leaping forward and grabbing one of his pleasure nodes with her talon and yanking it off.

“Very well,” he said. “But this investigator isn't to be a filthy bird like yourself.”

Ungeo cracked the knuckles in her talons. Easy. Easy.

“Of course, my Lord.”

12

Hekka - Rico

Hekka wailed in fury. He fell to his knees, begging Moloch for forgiveness. A Rector was dead. A Rector! Surely Moloch would smite his entire clan. The Rector lay before him now, a gaping section of its magnificent, worm-like body rent by the murderous True Light.

How could he have allowed the periscepter to be brought into the temple? The Decretal stated clearly that most weapons were forbidden on such hallowed ground. It was an offense far worse than what his brother had committed.

When Hekka had disarmed the human of his gun, he had assumed he had been neutralized. The boy hadn't been wielding the light, which was a far superior weapon. He had been so quick to bring the Child of Moloch, he hadn't even considered searching him. A terrible mistake. Unforgivable.

Ritual suicide wouldn't be enough. Hekka trembled. Nothing would be. His entire clan would die. The complete Book of Ancestors would be burned. His brethren would be slaughtered by the angry masses.

He was crushing the human's head with his hand. He almost allowed himself to do it. What did it matter anymore? The Rector was dead, and there would be no one left to perform the ceremony. The ceremony itself was likely useless, for the sacrifice of a single human, Child or not, couldn't possibly sate Moloch's thirst.

With a trembling hand, he picked up the periscepter. He half expected it to burn or even melt his fingers away. But nothing happened. The long black metal tube was surprisingly light, and a little warm. He squeezed the handle. Nothing. Such an innocent looking thing. So deadly. He could understand why the angels would want such a weapon, and why the Dominion desperately wanted them not to have them.

He searched the human. He had another one! Two periscepters, worth more than the pay of a thousand cycles to any Overseer. At any moment an acolyte or another worshipper was going to come into the room and discover what had happened. The fluids of the draining corpses were already spilling freely on the temple floor, filling the room with the sweet smell of death.

“Fear not, Lamb. You have done your duty well.”

Hekka looked up in astonishment. Standing before him was a human figure swimming in a flowing red robe. Incredibly ancient, old like the trees in the forest. A tangled gray beard hung to his knees, and it was caked and matted with blood. His eyes were a sea of milky white, stabbed with streaks of red, and black pin prints for pupils. The distinct odor of carrion rose with him. His presence filled the room.

Moloch!

Hekka dropped the periscepters and threw himself flat on the floor, too frightened to even look up. He struggled to lower himself as much as he could, trying to bury his own body into the stone. He felt himself groveling and whimpering, the noises rising from him like an injured animal. His mind reeled. Was that really Him? Moloch rarely showed Himself. Those who did bask in his presence rarely lived to speak of it. Was He here to ferry the faithful Rector away? Or perhaps Hekka had angered the God so considerably, He had come to exact His justice in person. Hekka sniveled like a beaten slave.

“Stand.”

Hekka snapped to his feet with military precision, though he could do nothing to mask his trembling.

The resplendent form of Moloch bent down and snatched up the two periscepters. “These are the only two he had on him?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper.

“Go. Speak of my presence to no one, and all shall be forgiven.”

Hekka ran. He sped through the dark, labyrinthine hallway, past the grotesque masks of protection, past the gallery of leather, toppling a surprised acolyte as he hammered a new skin to the wall. He dove from the perch into the sky. Tears spouted like blood, and he dove straight for his quarters. No time to seek out a commander for debriefing. No time to ponder the implications of what had just happened. He needed to meditate and pray, for he had just been in His presence.

* * *

The assault team of twenty-four Powers skirted low on the field as they screamed like arrows toward their target. Keeping pace behind them were several automated drones which would aid them in their assault.

Levi dodged the crashed remains of a Foray, one of the strike planes used to defend Cibola. He tried to keep focus, but the sight of the smashed vehicles burned him like a blade of fire. The fighter planes had been hailed as indestructible. Unstoppable. A remarkable achievement of engineering.

They littered the field like rodent mounds. He remembered watching in horror as they were swatted out of the sky. Mere insects. Their missiles ineffective. Their pilots burned to grain.

Levi had designed them himself. Each wreck was a hook in his soul. Each fallen angel a stone to carry on his back.

The engineer corps had gleefully designed weapon after weapon, gadget after gadget, after the first raid so many cycles ago. Each device was better than the last. They'd compete with each other to make the deadliest machines of destruction. They created tools, like the seeker drones and the anima bots. They ignored fine details like ejection maneuvers while the fighter was flipped horizontal. Or how the unfired missiles were excessively sensitive to shock.

After all, they were just designing these things for their own amusement. No one thought they would ever actually have to use them.

These things were in the past, Levi told himself. You can't shape clay that's already been fired, one of his dear friends had once told him. All he could do now was attempt to atone for his mistakes. He checked his weapon. It hummed dangerously, quivering with power. He had adjusted it before they left, doubling its energy output.

A nod from Jullishia told him what he dreaded. The Dahhak's destination was a temple. He shivered. They were too small a team. They were but twenty-four soldiers, while the Dahhak likely numbered several thousand near the temple. The floating hunk of rock wasn't actually within the city. But that was lukewarm comfort against the dark backdrop of their target.

The radio was silent except for the heavy breathing of twenty-three other soldiers, dealing with the knowledge they chased certain death.

* * *

There was something wrong with his wheelchair. After so many years, his chairs had become part of him. He knew every nuance, every peculiarity of each one, like it was a physical part of him. The front wheel on his A-frame racer was wobbling. The damn thing could go at any minute.

Rico had gotten the chair used, through a local I-can-make-myself-feel-better-by-giving-away-used-crap-to-handicapped-people drive. He hated the thought of taking stuff as charity. But his Mamá insisted. New, they cost several thousand American dollars.

It was fast, though. And driving it was like riding on the back of a cheetah. It raced through the unlit, angled street. Though night had descended on the tired village, the ominous form of Popocatepetl rose against the horizon, blocking even the stars.

A few tourists were out. Drunk, wandering the streets. If it was another time he'd approach them, maybe bully them into giving him some money. Some cars too, but not many. No one paid heed to Rico in his wheelchair, racing for his life.

Not far behind him was Paco, Manuel, and Humberto. All three were piled onto an undersized moped, which whined like an overburdened donkey. Paco was screaming at the top of his lungs. But screams, even murderous ones, were not rare here.

It was all because of Paco's sixteen-year-old twin sister, Mayra.

Rico had been alone with her in a back room at the mission. They were both helping clean up from the minor earthquake that had hit the previous day. A shelf had fallen off the wall, and the missives were spread everywhere. Mayra piled them on his lap, and Rico handed them to her in order as she placed them back.

Her gossamer skin brushed lightly against his hand one too many times. She was driving him crazy. She wore a tight, mid-cut shirt with a flower pattern. It tied in the back; one tug and her prize would spill out like a piñata. He imagined they smelled like roses.

“Mayra,” Rico said. “I got something for you. Want to see?”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

He produced the gold lady's watch he had nicked off a tourist earlier. He held it up for her, and it sparkled in the light through the round window. He had tried to sell it earlier but discovered it was a worthless fake.

Greed flashed in Mayra's beautiful, brown eyes. Her hands snatched forward. Rico pulled it away. He grinned. “You gotta do something for me first.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You think I'm some sort of cheap prostitute?”

“It's not like I want you to fuck me or anything. Just let me see your tits. Let me touch them.”

“Rico, we're in a church.”

“The human body is a beautiful thing. Even the pope says so.” He dangled the watch again. “You know you want this.”

She shook her head, but her eyes betrayed her. Mayra was a budding actress and model. Just last month she had appeared in a catalog in Mexico City for bathing suits. But her family was still poor, and Rico knew she craved pretty things like this watch.

“It's a sin,” she said. “You can't sin in a church. It's much worse than sinning normally.”

“Show me in the bible where it says 'thou shalt not show Rico your boobs.'“

Mayra sighed. Rico held his breath as he watched her indecision. “All right, but if you tell anyone, I swear on The Virgin I'll break both your arms.”

She grabbed for the watch.

“Nope. After.”

She reached back and untied the knot that kept her splendorous breasts imprisoned.

Rico leaned forward in his chair, the missives spilling to the floor. At the last second, she paused. The two ties of her shirt dangled ruthlessly at her side, and she clutched the fabric to her chest.

“No touching,” she said. “Just look.”

Rico mocked petulance, but he really didn't care. He'd seen plenty of tits in his lifetime, but none, ever, that were meant just for him. His heart pounded.

“All right,” he said, licking his lips.

Mayra lowered her shirt, giving him a full view of her magnificent breasts.

It was, perhaps, the greatest moment of his young life.

Then something very, very bad happened.

Padre Montamos walked in.

“Dios Mio!” he cried, his face white as an American. His eyes were glued to Mayra's breasts. “What is going on here?”

“Hola, Padre,” Rico said, planting a plastic smile on his face.

Mayra burst into tears.

“He made me do it,” she wailed. She hadn't even bothered to cover herself up. “He stole the watch my Abuela gave me and told me if I didn't strip he'd smash it up in front of me.” She collapsed on the floor, sobbing melodramatically. “He was going to rape me!”

“You lying bitch!” Rico yelled. He turned his wheel to face the padre. “She is lying.”

The priest seemed to be frozen with indecision. Then his eyes found the watch still in Rico's hands. “Where did you get that watch?”

Rico tried to slide it into his pocket. Shit. “It's mine.”

“It's a woman's watch, Rico.”

Mayra continued to ululate like a goat being castrated.

“Padre, have I ever lied to you?” Rico said. He immediately regretted it.

Padre Montamos's eyes narrowed.

Paco burst into the room. He had been out front, helping reattach the bulletin board to the wall. At the sight of his topless sister crying on the floor, he turned toward Rico, his eyes enraged.

I can still get out of this. I just have to say the right thing.

“It's not my fault your sister's a whore.”

Padre Montamos had to physically hold Paco back. “You are dead. Do you hear me, Rico? Fucking dead!” Paco was dragged out of the room.

The priest eventually believed Rico's story when the watch that had belonged to Mayra's grandmother suddenly became her aunt's. Rico got to keep the watch, and he had gotten to see her boobs. Everything had worked out for the best.

But he still had to face Paco and his friends.

Rico turned the corner, puffing with the effort. Almost home.

A shriek from behind let him know the pursuit was still on. He pushed himself beyond his limits. As he fled, his thoughts turned angry. They're always making fun. Always chasing me. I'm always the mouse, never the cat. Always the weaker one. If I ever get the chance, I swear to God I'll…

A fast-moving car sped out of a dark alley and slammed him, launching him into the air.

There wasn't much pain, just a loud crunch, and Rico went tumbling. He was completely numb, and it didn't feel as if he was moving at all, but the world continued to spin around him. He blinked, and he was on the ground. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his chest felt wet, but there was no real pain. Just a dull ache that seemed far, far away. Smoke and the stench of burnt tar invaded his sinuses. He could see his chair, crumpled like a soda can. The two back wheels were gone, but the front one was still there, and it was still spinning.

Rico couldn't move his neck. A car door opened. A footfall splashed, like it had stepped in a puddle. Whoever it was, walked slowly, almost casually. The whine of Paco's scooter faded. The sound of their laughter echoed in the night.

A hard boot kicked the side of his head.

“You still alive?” The harsh voice spoke his Spanish brokenly, and his accent was European.

Rico moaned. A head appeared just above his. It was a man with long, ratty hair. His breath stunk of cigars, and his bloodshot eyes glowed in the dark. They were piercing, as if they looked right through him.

“Rico, this is very important, so you must listen carefully,” the man said.

“Huh?” It was getting harder to stay awake. With every breath, his lungs took less air. Like a pair of soaked sponges in his chest. Did I tell him my name?

“You are my only hope. Obtain the periscepters and bring them to me.”

“What? Who are you?” Colors danced before Rico's eyes. The dark street seemed so far away. He had the sensation he was falling.

“The fate of the human race depends upon it, Rico. You will find them. You will bring them to me.”

There was nothing, then.

* * *

Rico awakened, staring into the red eyes of the man who had killed him. The man stunk worse than the demon, and his red robe was filthy with blood. But this man was human. They were still in the yawning room of the temple, but now there was light enough for Rico to see. It was a nightmare. Hoses slid back and forth like enraged serpents, spewing the fluids of the attached creatures. The carcass of the huge worm still dominated the walls. It wobbled like a Jell-O mold.

“Hello,” the man said. “Welcome back.”

Rico shot up. His head protested, and he was nauseated. His shoulder and back screamed with pain.

“I remember you,” Rico said. Obtain the periscepters and bring them to me. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten all of it until just now.

“You are fortunate the Dahhak was unable to kill you. It would be a great loss to our cause.” The filthy man spoke slowly, as if Rico was a small child.

“Dahhak? Cause?” Rico's head swam. “Wait. You are the one who killed me?”

“Yes. I drove the vehicle into your wheelchair. I gave you the instructions that led you here.”

“You killed me?” He wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't as upset as he thought he should be. “I did not come here on my own. That demon thing grabbed me and took me here.”

The man nodded. Specks of blood flaked off his beard. “Serendipity indeed. Disaster turned into a fortunate circumstance. I knew of your presence once you arrived here at the temple. It was a surprise, but you would have ended up here anyway.”

Rico was torn between jumping forward to strangle him and gaping in utter bewilderment. The man looked like he had just crawled through a slaughterhouse, and honest-to-god murder hobo, yet he spoke like Padre Montamos. The man was charismatic in a bizarre way.

The man smiled. “Allow me to tell you a story. When it is over, you will know everything, and your confusion shall melt away like wax. You will learn of our great struggle, and of the two enemies we must overcome. You will learn who the true gods of this world are.”

He reached forward and placed the tip of his icy fingers against Rico's forehead. “Close your eyes, child. Receive the truth.”

13

Rico - Levi - Tamael

Rico floated high above the city of Cibola. He was extended like a bird, yet he felt solidly in place, neither moving nor falling. The city was a sprawling metropolis, rising many levels into the sky. It teemed. The metallic and marble buildings rose like gargantuan rockets, and angels buzzed around them. The angels were tiny specks this far up, but the city flung as far as he could see. A flying train shot past, whining like a high-pitched whistle. Moments later, it was lost from sight.

For a millennium, this was my world.

The man was speaking in Rico's head.

Yes, it is me. Moloch.

Rico fought against the strange presence. “This is weird. I don't like you in my head.” He spoke the words out loud, but he only heard it in his own head.

The man. Moloch? Is that what he said? He spoke in Rico's mind as he continued to float over the city.

Like you, I was a human living in a human world. We had religion, of course, and I even believed in it enough to dream of this place you see before you now. I died an old man, and I was thrilled beyond imagination to find myself here.

Like the others, I was given my quarters deep within the human realm. And I was assigned my duty. I was a member of the street cleaners at first. But I had been a doctor of the mind in my world, and soon I began working as a mentor for the newly-arrived.

“They give you a job?”

Yes. All new souls are expected to live by the rules of the angel nation.

“What if you don't want to do what they tell you?”

The angels have separated themselves into a barbaric caste system. There are nine tiers. The Seraphim are at the uppermost, and they are the leaders of the angel world. And the civilian angels, the people you are seeing now, are of the lowest caste. When the humans first began to arrive, a new class was added, a tenth tier.

“And we're at the bottom?”

Yes. Many were not happy with their new homes here, for they were meager compared to what they once had. They didn't understand why the angels despised them so. Many couldn't find loved ones, and they were distraught to learn only a fraction of the people on their world actually made it to this place.

Soon I began to counsel even those who had been here longer than myself. There was growing resentment against the angels. We held regular meetings in the human levels of the Athenaeum. There was talk of rebellion. Somehow I found myself at the forefront of the revolution. Among the human community, our cause spread like a fire.

“I don't understand. Why do the angels hate us?” Rico remembered some of the living conditions in the shanty towns on the outskirts of Mexico City. Anything would be better than that. How bad could it really be?

Rico plummeted. He screamed as he fell. He dived past the buildings, past angels who looked right through him with unseeing eyes. A hole was in the ground, a gaping maw big enough to fly an airplane through. A few tubes climbed along the side; perhaps elevators. Rico dived straight into the hole.

Inside, it was another world. A monstrous cavern lit like eternal dusk. The walls were like the innards of a beehive. Honeycombs rose like support beams to the city above. Within the claustrophobic holes, humans dwelled. A bed, a table, and a chair were the only furnishings.

Like above, this world swarmed with people. Most everyone wore blue of some sort, which made it look drab and depressing. Like those old pictures of the Holocaust camps he saw at school.

Everything was moving, but it was completely devoid of life. The inside of a machine.

We were a small network of rebels, just less than a million people.

“That ain't small.”

A group that large is infinitesimal compared to the bulk of the population of angels. A trillion souls here is worth less than your own soul on your homeworld.

“That's insane.”

Despite our weak numbers, we fell into the same trap you just did. We assumed we were powerful enough to overthrow any angels who opposed us. Very few of us survived. I cast myself into the ether to avoid my own death, and an angel, so bent on my capture, fell with me.

“What is the ether?”

When you arrived here, at the dunes. Do you see the mighty ocean that flanks the grains?

“That big, frozen ocean thing?”

This is the ether. Descending in the ether is not an unpleasant experience at first. You are simply falling, no real sensation other than your own thoughts. Sometimes black mounds streak past. Different planes of existence they are. The demon worlds.

Angels can not survive the fall from this plane, while humans can. While the True Light slays the demons, the Absolute Darkness is fatal to angels. But they don't turn to dust, either. Their skeleton, light like a bird's, stronger than any element, survives.

It was sheer luck I landed upon the astral plane of the Dahhak. And the skeletal remains of the angel draping my body like armor. I was blind, of course. But even a short while in Absolute Darkness, and your third sight grows. Yours is already being born in the simulated darkness of this temple.

“And a Dahhak is like that dude who brought me to the temple? Those winged, dark elf-looking assholes?”

Yes. They tried to capture me, of course. Human slaves are especially valuable, especially back then in the early days. But each time one of them even came close to that angel skeleton, he was slain.

They fell to their knees, worshipping me. I did not know what was happening. Later I learned their arch-rector had a vision of their messiah, draped in armor. He would bring them all closer to their Pri, their view of perfection. They thought it was me. I was named Moloch. For an eon they had already worshipped me, but now they had a face. And I had a destiny.

In their realm, I honed abilities I never knew I had. Like the ability to freely move from one plane to another. All humans possess it, you know. In time you will learn, too.

“I don't understand any of this. I thought the angels are the good guys.”

They despise us.

“But why?”

Because we are the true masters of eternity. And they know it. Their jealousy burns deep.

A distant explosion rocketed Rico back to consciousness. The city was gone. They were still in the disgusting, dripping temple of the worm. A second explosion echoed.

“What's that?” Rico asked, afraid.

Moloch kneeled before him. He slowly opened his wild eyes, a crooked grin on his bearded face.

* * *

The helmet visors automatically slid down before the eyes of all twenty-four angels. The landscape instantly transformed into a virtual world. Threats were easily targeted and identified, and from the home base, information was relayed on the screen. Each soldier had his own personal “wingman” sitting back at the base.

Levi knew the real reason the helmet displays were designed this way. Officially, it was so battle simulations and actual combat were as similar as possible, but the reality was, the computer images didn't show the true carnage. When a fellow soldier was killed, he simply disappeared off the screen.

No blood. No pain. Even his screams were filtered.

“May He bless your swords,” Colonel Tamael said, her voice grim. Levi briefly wondered for how many trillions of angels were those the last words they ever heard.

Levi could now make out the forms of the demons as they flew about the floating temple. They glowed a blinking red on his visor. Hopefully only a few were armed. Their target, the temple, was marked green. Several entrances dotted the gargantuan building, and each team member would be assigned a different one. It was risky, but they could cover more ground. A group of five would assault the top perch, the one the Dahhak and human had gone through.

The AI began assigning each of them an entrance and plotting a course that would be most efficient. A moment later, the courses were altered slightly by the wingmen. Levi noted his assigned wingman was Colonel Yehppael, a mixed blessing. The large angel was an excellent strategist. But he was also known for taking wild risks.

Orders began pouring in. The angels split off in different directions, many sinking low or fanning out. His group of five rose sharply and increased speed. Below, a line of rockets streaked away toward the floating Dahhak settlement.

The floating temple was on them now like a gaping maw ready to swallow them all. A countdown appeared on his screen. Here we go. His whole body quivered with both fear and a strange battle lust. Three, two, one.

A cluster of bulbous-shaped dwellings exploded. The angels and drones fired again, then split off into different directions. The response was immediate. Fireballs rocketed towards the angels. One, a soldier named Deannian, was caught in the conflagration. She disappeared off his scope before she even had a chance to burn away.

Levi allowed a prayer to escape his lips.

* * *

Colonel Tamael was still awed by the control center. It was made entirely of scavenged parts, but it was easily the most impressive work of technology ever created by the engineering corp. Computers and radar screens sprouted like stalagmites. Workers huddled over every machine imaginable, all of them concentrating intensely on their tasks. A low booming filled the room, constantly in the background. The energy reactors.

The room was hidden in one of the many underground caves. The engineers promised it could take a direct blast from the biggest bombs out there. Tamael prayed they'd never have to find out for sure.

It was spacious enough to accommodate an individual wingman for up to 1000 soldiers. And each of the cubicles could be quickly modified to seat a battalion commander instead. If the time ever came, they could fight the entire war from this room.

It was unfortunate the engineers didn't show such genius until after it was too late.

Tamael sat at the center console. She had the ability to patch into any individual soldier and to give general orders. Yehppael had been assigned the strike force's leader, the engineer Levi. The angel's muttered prayer boomed through the central loudspeaker. His fear was unsettling to them all.

Once again she questioned the use of these angels in the assault. None were true Powers. They had been trained well and were more than able soldiers, but far from the best they had. The truth was difficult to admit to, but it was the truth all the same. This mission was suicide. Pure folly. The death of any angel was horrific, but Tamael wouldn't allow her best soldiers to be so… wasted.

The Hashmallim pair had entered the control room and were quietly to the side, watching. They knew enough to not interrupt the colonel. They stood so, so close to one another, almost touching. Tamael stared at them for a brief moment. She'd never seen two of the angel pairs ever this close to one another.

Tamael returned her attention to the main screen, a wide-angle shot from one of their drones. The angels, now broken into several groups, streaked toward their target. She shook her head sadly. They were going to be cut to ribbons before they even reached the platform.

And if that did happen, she feared the angels here would finally revolt, casting away both the Hashmallim and hundreds of thousands of cycles of tradition. Most of the angels viewed the humans with contempt, but if their friends and companions were obliterated in a raid prompted by them, it would, at last, be too much.

If there was an uprising, Tamael didn't know what she would do.

She ordered the drones to activate. If they worked as planned, they would draw the fire from the automatic surface-to-air batteries. Marksmen controlled the few armed drones, but with the latency, they had difficulty actually hitting their targets.

Yehppael cast her a secret wink. It calmed her nerves greatly. As much as she didn't want to admit it, most of her strength came from the male angel.

She loved him fiercely.

It was not common for angels to be paired with one another. Unlike humans and demons, angels couldn't derive physical pleasure from bringing their bodies together.

Her attraction was a mystery, but she had stopped denying it long ago. Soulmates, he said. It was a human term. The others knew of their cohabitation, but that wasn't uncommon. They didn't advertise their pairing, and no one inquired about it. Only the Hashmallim really knew, but she suspected even they didn't understand.

Male and Female. The differences were rarely discussed, and few angels even acknowledged a variance between the two. The humans accepted their roles so easily, but they were full of contradictions. The women were the creators, yet they had a subservient role in most human cultures. It was all so confusing.

The angels were doing an effective job of laying devastation upon the temple platform. But the confused Dahhak rose into the sky, an alarming number. The automatic defenses that hadn't already been destroyed were finally kicking on. The drones were exploding too fast. Even though Tamael wasn't actually in the fray, terror gripped at her. She felt her arm tightening around her helmet. She adjusted her composure as valiantly as possible. She couldn't allow the others to see her like this. She was their leader.

Three angels were caught in a single blast. Their wingmen all cried out simultaneously, two of them quickly switching to anger when they turned to see the Hashmallim in the room.

The camera caught the forms of several human slaves, perhaps twenty of them, burning on the ground. An odd feeling of guilt struck her. They are free now.

She envied them.

* * *

A bolt of fire streaked across Levi's back. A sliver of his neck was unprotected, and it seared with agonizing pain.

A cry came from behind him, but a fraction of a moment later, the sound was edited out of the radio frequency. They were down to four angels in his group.

A concussion sent waves through the air, and he tumbled. Jullishia, his dear friend, was suddenly gone from the screen. One hundred thousand cycles of friendship, disappeared. Just like that.

“No,” he whispered. It wasn't a plea, or an exclamation. Just a statement.

He straightened his wings and prepared for the dive. Occasional blasts still came, but the demons were focusing on the angels far below, the ones destroying the city.

The command came. Dive.

* * *

Tamael sent a few drones skidding to an explosive, smoky end upon the streets of the temple city. Yehppael sent the angels on their dive. They had to be protected at all costs, and the drones were quickly running out. A pair of angels strafed a rising force of Dahhak. The angels lasted only seconds before they were cut down, but it was enough to throw the enemy into a temporary disarray. But more were coming, emerging out of nowhere. Too many.

Retreat. Abort. Flee.

But she couldn't.

One of the three diving angels was suddenly bowled out of the sky by a well-aimed cannon blast. Tamael shivered. The remaining two swooped in through the entrance and disappeared into the dark temple.

Out of twenty-four angels, and many more drones, only two made it to the temple. Communication was suddenly cut off. The screens in the control room all blinked to black.

“What's going on?” Tamael demanded.

No one answered as technicians jumped at their computers and scopes.

“Answer me!”

“We're being jammed,” came the reply. The fear was heavy in the voice.

“Impossible. I thought our encrypted signals couldn't be jammed or traced.”

The signal came back, then blinked out again.

“All of our sensors are going offline, one by one,” a technician cried. “I can't stop it.”

It took a moment for the terror to pervade her. The two surviving angels at the temple were likely already dead. Slaughtered for nothing, and even worse, the attack had somehow given the enemy an opening, exposed a weakness in their communications.

“If they can jam us…” She let the question hang.

Yehppael looked at her with eyes cold and sad. And for the first time, there was fear there too.

This place, this hidden palace, this wonder of technology suddenly seemed more like a tomb.

“General quarters,” Tamael called. The itching at her arm could no longer be ignored. She slipped her helmet over her head. It immediately patched itself into the local defense system. Then she uttered the three words she constantly prayed she'd never have to use.

“Initiate defense procedures.”

14

Levi - The Hashmallim - Tamael

Levi corkscrewed through the air toward the temple entrance.

Uli exploded behind him. The resulting turbulence almost kept him from his course. He cried out in frustration. But then, the entrance! Levi and the only other living angel, Zane, curved into the temple as rock exploded around them. Once inside, the explosions abruptly stopped.

The darkness pounced. For a terrifying moment, Levi thought he was dead.

No. Not yet.

The light on his helmet switched on, revealing a tight hallway. The walls appeared wet, as if they were carved of meat. Cold wrapped its fingers around Levi, despite the protection of his armor. Zane was beside him. He didn't know this other angel very well, but he had been good friends with Uli. The angel trembled with anger and fear.

Their link with base abruptly went offline. The temple, perhaps, Levi thought. The structure blocks the frequency.

“How are we going to find him now?” Zane muttered. “This place is huge.” His voice was broken and barely audible over the radio, though they were only inches from one another.

“Come on,” Levi said. They hurried down the hallway, guns ready. He expected to be met with resistance, but there was nothing. The hallway wound, sometimes rising, sometimes falling, but it never split. They came to a room, and the walls were covered with the fresh skins of humans and other creatures. They were pulled taut with nails, as if being prepared to be used as drums. The stench seeped into his helmet, and it was abominable.

They continued. No sounds. No movement. It was as if the temple had been abandoned.

“An ambush,” Zane whispered.

“Maybe,” Levi said. “Come on.”

Zane nodded. His weapon hummed in his hands.

They took a few steps upwards and curved toward an archway. Beyond it was a cavernous room. The main chamber, Levi thought. The lair of their rector.

Their lights shined upon the carnage within. The bodies strung about the walls and to stakes, most of them dead, some clinging to life. The Nemat cut in half. The tubes running about like snipped electrical wires, spewing fluids. The slightly sunken-in floor had become a pool of the most repugnant bile.

In a corner were two humans. One was an older man draped in a filthy crimson robe, the other was their target. The human, Rico. And more importantly, the older human had both periscepters in his possession.

“Rico,” Levi called, stepping forward cautiously, careful not to step down into the pool. “Come with me. I'm to return you to your companions.”

The boy had a bewildered look, as if he was wrought with indecision. Levi half-hoped he refused so he could slay both of them.

He and Zane circled the edge of the chamber, avoiding getting their feet wet. This place was surreal, a wicked vision that human parents would devise to scare their children into submission. Such real, tangible horror was difficult to fathom.

A hand shot out from one of the bodies on the wall and grasped Levi's shoulder. The quick movement terrified him. He let out a yelp, splashing down into the bloody pool. With horror, he realized the hand and wrist went with him. The body did not. He quickly brushed the hand off his shoulder. It landed with a splash.

Levi looked up, and the older human was gone! Just Rico stood there, unmoving, looking at them. The periscepters were with the older man. Panic welled in him.

“Where'd he go?”

“I don't know,” Zane answered. “I was looking at you! He just disappeared.”

Levi rushed forward, no longer heeding the pool. He rushed up to the human, grabbing him by his suit. “Where did he go?”

It took the boy a long moment to answer. “I thought you came for me.”

He had to ease his own anger. “You and the periscepters. Now where did he go? We haven't time for this.”

“He's gone.”

Levi couldn't take it anymore. All this death. For nothing. He raised his gun, putting the muzzle under the chin of the human. His finger felt heavy on the trigger.

“Tell me where he went right now, or you'll never see your friends again.” He jabbed the weapon upwards.

Rico narrowed his eyes. He seemed unafraid. “It's true. It's all true.”

“Stop talking nonsense, human. Where did he go?”

The human boy sneered. “You'll never escape this temple alive, angel.”

And then he disappeared. Just like that, like a flame whiffed out. Levi looked about with surprise. What was happening? How did he do that?

“What now?” Zane asked. He seemed almost relieved the human was gone.

“I don't know.”

“Maybe we should just leave. Try to blast our way back to base.”

Levi felt ashamed. Unworthy to be called angel. “We have a mission.”

“We have lives,” came Zane's quick reply.

Levi whirled to face the other angel. “That's not the way a soldier speaks. Or thinks. A soldier's life is secondary to the cause.”

Zane shook his head. “I'm not a soldier. And neither are you.”

Levi just stared back at him. Zane was right. But he felt shame. This mission was important, even crucial. But what more could he do?

“All right then. Let's go home.”

* * *

The Hashmallim and his Pendant exchanged glances.

The mission had failed. The entire wing was gone, probably dead. And now their base may have been discovered.

We should have sent a larger group, his Pendant thought.

She was right, of course. This was too important. They should've sent every soldier they had available. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe they could send another raid. All the Powers, all the angels, take up whatever weapons they had available, devastate the temple and not stop searching until the two periscepters were found.

It would still leave us one short, He thought back at her. We'll hear back from the patrol sent to the pyramid soon. Perhaps it had been overlooked.

We won't hear from them if we're under attack. We won't hear from them if our communication network is down.

He smiled ruefully at her. All thirteen of them will be found. I am confident.

She returned his smile. They held each other's gaze for a moment. He was always the most optimistic of the two.

Several angels suddenly broke from their stations and approached the two Hashmallim. The Hashmallim felt the rare fear in his Pendant. He looked at the murderous rage in their eyes, and he felt it too.

Your faith in the prophecy is our undoing, Brother.

“Tamael,” he spoke aloud. His voice reverberated throughout the control center. “Call your soldiers down.”

Everyone paused. It was rare that he spoke aloud.

“Stand down,” Tamael roared, finally noticing what was happening. She rose from her chair, spreading her wings out to their full span. The spidery tendrils filled the room,

Colonel Yehppael jumped from his station and rushed forward. “No!” he cried.

But it was too late.

A knife flashed. The Hashmallim looked down, and it was sprouting from his own chest. He stared at it dumbly, not quite comprehending what was happening. His stomach burned, but the pain was slight. While he bore the physical injury, his Pendant suffered the pain. He fumbled for the ceremonial sword on his back. His Pendant was on her knees, clutching at her chest.

Brother, help me.

The Hashmallim pulled his sword free. He cursed himself for allowing them to be together. Everyone knew that was why a Hashmallim was rarely in the presence of his Pendant. Their duality was protection. But they had been negligent. He felt her presence slipping. Once one of them died, the other wouldn't survive long. Their lives were attached.

He swung his sword, cutting two angels down. Their bodies dissolved to sand.

Forgive me, sister.

Yehppael tackled two more angels, screaming at them. They struggled, but the brawny colonel held them fast. A few more were coming. The Hashmallim jumped forward with his sword. An angel kicked his Pendant hard in the head, and the blow sent him reeling.

An angel kneeled over his Pendant, but he was looking directly at him. “This is for Uli. And Jullishia. And all the others you murdered today.”

Tamael held her weapon up. The rage in her eyes filled the room, and the scent of anger and fear permeated the air. She roared at the angel standing over his Pendant's form. “Do not move, soldier. I will kill you.”

The traitorous angel ignored the colonel, producing a knife. The angel smiled as he plunged it directly into the head of the female Hashmallim.

The steel carved a fiery path of phantom pain in his head. He fell. The angel with the knife jerked, then slumped over. A low-energy blast from Tamael. The pain was unbearable. He felt his sister slip away, gone forever. No. It was a feeling like no other, and it terrified him. For the first time in his existence, he was alone. Truly alone. He reached out, trying to touch her. He wanted to feel his sister's touch. But it was too late. She was too far away, and he was fading fast.

I'm coming.

* * *

Not too far within the occupied city of Cibola sat a surface-based air harbor. The main hangar was built with the dome style architecture indicative of the earliest Cibola structures. At one time, the area had been used to house the enormous air transports of the angel city. However, these antique, angel flying marvels were mere insects compared to the behemoth flying machines of the Dominion. The Dominion flyers were so physically massive, they defied physics. No hangar had been built that could hold these flying machines. So instead, they sat outside of the hangars, lined up in rows. Dozens of these colossal flying machines sat ready to be called into action. They sat upon the endless tarmac, a black sea of asphalt spread out for miles like demon's blood.

The creatures that these transports ferried were stored underground in a series of subterranean caverns, called setts. At one time, before the occupation, these setts housed humans. Not anymore.

These monsters, mostly beasts of burden from the world of the Overseers, were not easily controlled. They were huge, even by demon standards.

The order had come from headquarters, just like that. The small group of handlers looked at each other uneasily as the message ticked out over the prompter. Load up three Burrowers for deployment. Top Priority.

Not one. Which would be more than adequate. Three.

Though they weren't the most colossal of the many beasts in the menagerie, they were probably the most troublesome. An adult burrower was about the height of seventy Dahhak, with six legs thick enough to crush a building. The two front legs were slightly longer with curved, rake-like claws. Watching them dig was an awesome sight. It took them mere seconds to carve out a hole that would take a hundred workers a whole cycle to dig. The beasts were entirely blind and covered with a black shell of natural armor and razor-sharp fur. They were kept in cells of carved diamond to keep them from burrowing away.

The handlers were a multiracial unit of Dahhak, Pazuzu, and a few of the bulky Geyrun of the Overseer world. The demons stood side by side, contemplating how they were going to do this. They peered over the giant ramp that led down to the sett. The handlers rarely ventured down there. Only to feed, and never alone. Never alone.

The smell of fear and uncertainty rose from them.

“We'll drug them,” a Geyrun said. The red demon fingered his black goatee. “Just enough to knock 'em out for the ride.”

The others nodded. It was the only way. Far below, the beasts rumbled.

* * *

Tamael was frozen with shock. The Hashmallim, dead. Killed by angels. She could've stopped it. The angels had been starting to turn against the leaders. She knew that. The raid was a suicide mission, yet she allowed the Hashmallim to stay. Such a confrontation had been inevitable.

Stupid. You call yourself a leader? This is your fault.

Yehppael took control of the situation. The angels involved in the incident, seven in all, were rounded up and disarmed. They didn't resist. She couldn't hold their gaze.

I'm no leader. I'll step down. Let Yehppael take over.

The Hashmallim, both of them she considered a friend, dead.

“Colonel,” Yehppael said. “Colonel.”

“Wha… what?”

He arched his eyebrow as if to say get a hold of yourself. “What should I do with them?”

She sighed. Have them executed, and they'd be martyrs. Let them go, and she'd be considered weak. What to do?

You are the leader, she told herself. You have no choice. Like it or not, they killed the Hashmallim knowing you would take their place. Make a decision, damn it.

“We'll decide in council. In the interim, take these traitors to the pagoda. They shall stand vigil for the Hashmallim. They shall remain there until further notice. Post guards at the entrance and instruct them to execute anyone who so much as sticks their head out the door.”

Yehppael nodded grimly. He began shouting orders.

She moved to an engineer who was desperately trying to get the radar back online. He'd switch to a different frequency, only to have it jammed before the sensor could make a complete pass.

“This is new demon technology,” he muttered as he tried a different approach. “Even the ones we're directly connected with aren't functioning correctly.”

Tamael gripped the engineer's chair tightly. She felt the wood start to splinter under the pressure. “Make it work. Make it work now.”

“Maybe if I try connecting…”

“I don't care what you connect with whom. We're blind without that radar.”

“There,” the engineer shouted triumphantly. The radar blinked on.

Then it went right off again.

He cursed, fiddled with it some more. The screen came on again, this time long enough to make a single pass before it winked out. Tamael didn't understand the complex radar readings, but all the technicians sitting around the console froze at the image.

All the color drained from the engineer's face.

15

Rico - Tamael

“Where am I?” Rico asked, disoriented and bewildered. One moment he faced the two angels in the dark, rank chamber of the Nemat rector, and suddenly he was in a lush, well-lit room. It was about half the size of a school gym. Everything was red. Soft carpet, overstuffed couches. Red tapestries on the walls. No doors except one on the far wall. A spiced aroma rose from dual incense burners in the middle of the room.

And humans. Six of them. All incredibly attractive females with pale skin and flowing hair white as milk. Teenagers. Naked.

They lounged around the room like cats on a summer day. They appeared to all look alike, exact clones of each other. Their hefty breasts were like overflowing bowls of vanilla ice cream with a bright red cherry on top. They made Mayra's boobs look like pancakes. The whole place was a scene from a harem movie.

They turned to Rico. Their eyes were expressionless, devoid of life. It reminded him of the first humans he saw earlier. Zombies.

“Welcome to my home,” Moloch said, suddenly appearing at his side.

Rico jumped. “How did I get here?”

“You brought yourself. All humans have the ability to jump planes. With practice, you can use it to go wherever you please, even in and out of the Sphere. No angels and only the most powerful demons can do this. It will be one of our greatest weapons. This time I planted the suggestion in your mind. Next, you'll do it all on your own.”

“Okay… but where are we?”

Moloch laughed, walking forward to a bar and pouring himself a drink of a steaming red liquid. “We're deep within the city. In an empty, forgotten building.”

A girl sat at the bar, unmoving, watching Rico. She sat on a strange stool made of what looked like crossed elephant tusks. He watched her in return. She didn't blink, and it gave him the creeps.

He noticed Rico's interest. “They were slaves at one time. I've freed them.”

“What's wrong with them?”

“They've been denuded. It's a long process, but many opt for it to ensure their investment doesn't revolt and have to be killed. The Dahhak drain all their slaves.

Moloch took a long drink. “These particular girls are from a small planet that self-destructed with war and famine. The men are all different, yet the women are identical. It's rather strange.”

“Can you help them?”

“Once denuded, they're gone forever. Empty shells.”

“That's… That's horrible.”

Moloch sighed. He looked considerably cleaner than he did in the temple. Before, the man had been covered with gore. It appeared he had taken a shower, dried and brushed his hair, and changed into a clean robe.

“It is ghastly. But it still isn't as repugnant as what the angels have done. Remember that. The demons are by no means our allies, but for the moment, they aren't our enemies. Not yet.”

“But they think you're their god!”

He nodded, sipping from his drink. He leaned against the bar casually. “Soon, they'll also embrace you as a deity. As all demons and angels will.”

“But…”

“No more talk of this!” he suddenly cried, slamming his drink down. “We can always discuss our destinies, but now we shall celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Another Child of Moloch has come home! It is a great moment indeed.” He grabbed the woman and yanked her roughly off the chair. She complied wordlessly. He led her toward a lone doorway.

“Take one, or two for that matter; they are yours to command,” Moloch said over his shoulder. “I'm afraid they've all been broken in already.”

Rico was horrified, but excited all at once. Mine to command. At the same time, it seemed… weird. Wrong. But this Moloch guy had saved him. These girls were better off here than with one of those horrible demons. Weren't they?

Rico looked at one of the girls and held out his hand.

* * *

Tamael waited desperately as the engineers tested the automatic defenses. They seemed to be working properly, but the long-range radar tracking wasn't picking up the signals they knew were there. The scent of tension rose amongst the control center. Despite the bustle of activity, an uneasy calm had settled upon them all. Their hurried movements were liquid. Trained, despite the technical difficulties. Despite the violence that had just erupted in this chamber.

We can do this. They constantly drilled for this moment. Every angel had a specific duty, each one an important part of their intricate defense plan.

But a dark, ominous voice nagged at Tamael. They were barely more than 6,000 angels. Though all were given the honorary rank of Power, she knew the truth. They were just engineers. The few true Powers they did have were good, battle-seasoned officers, but even they wouldn't be able to properly lead the group in an all-out clash, even with the surprises they had waiting.

“Fixed it,” an engineer cried. The main screen blinked on.

No one moved for several seconds. The screen displayed both raw data and visual interpretations. Three regiments of demons were coming, each one consisting of ten thousand soldiers. Two were Dahhak, the third was a wide W formation of Pazuzu Stingers. She took a deep breath at the sight of the chopping black demons. She had waking nightmares of their venomous tails ripping through armor and flesh.

Behind the Pazuzu regiment lumbered three mammoth transports with an escort of nine fighter/bombers. The transports seemed to sag, and they wobbled erratically as if a thunderous presence within was thrashing about.

She shook. Fear grew over her, around her, in her. Like a weed.

You are the highest-ranking officer. The life of everyone here is your responsibility. You can't doubt yourself. Just do what you can. Do what you must.

“What's in those transports?” she demanded.

“No way of knowing, ma'am. Our radar is working at less than ten percent.”

Damn it. “Those are our target priorities. Fire upon them as soon as they're directly above our first defense ring. Once they're down, focus on the rear.”

At her command console, a light blinked blue, signaling the twenty Foray fighters they had rebuilt and refurbished were ready to launch. They hadn't been able to test them, and she prayed they wouldn't malfunction. The fighter planes would launch vertically like missiles out of a hidden cavern, which would be blown in after takeoff. Once launched, the planes would have nowhere to land. She prayed for the brave pilots.

The drones were ready to go. All the other traps were set.

All that was left was for them to fight for their lives.

16

Hitomi - Yehppael

Hitomi huddled against the wall, desperately trying to close her eyes against the world around her. The emergency klaxon continued to blare. A terrified-looking angel came to their room and told them to stay put and not make any noise. Demons were coming. Hitomi clutched onto her periscepter. The black object no longer seemed so evil to her, and she no longer wanted to be separated from it.

If the demons attacked, would the angels call upon her to help? She didn't know if she would be fast enough to fend off hordes of the demons, coming at her from every direction. She trembled at the thought. It was unthinkable.

* * *

Yehppael couldn't stop thinking about the humans. So much had happened since his conversation with them. A force that would surely crush them was attacking the base, but still, his mind was on the four.

How they got here was a mystery to be pondered at another time. That they were here is what mattered. It wasn't just some anomaly. Damn the Cherubim and Seraphim. The full text of the prophecy had never been revealed. It was hidden in the upper chambers of the library, deep within the restricted area.

Like most of the prophecies, though, part of it was revealed to all:

“On the brink of ruin, four of His otherworld creations shall come to reunite the thirteen towers.

The fruition of their efforts is not set in time nor stone nor flesh. And they shall be burdened with 1,000 failures before the light will truly shine on not just His creations, but all of creation itself, forever quelling the darkness in us all.”

That was what all angels knew, given to them as they learned the ways of their world. The four were always assumed to be humans, and the periscepters were often referred to as towers in the texts. The second part was frequently debated in scholarly discussions amongst the common angels, and most believed it meant the prophecy wouldn't ever likely come true.

After countless hours of study, Yehppael had also discovered another piece of the prophecy buried in a dusty tome, a short passage that referred to the four humans:

“For one, the end will be the beginning. For another, two bitter reunions shall set those bound free. The third will die by the hand of the fourth.

Healing all wounds but one.”

The passage haunted him.

Yehppael had told no one of his discovery in fear of reprimand from the higher castes. It was not a Power's duty to learn the histories beyond what they were already taught, and he had been told that a hundred times over with glares and sharp remarks while he was within the great Athenaeum.

Regardless, an uncomfortable feeling brewed within him. A heated battle was soon to embroil them all, first at their battle stations and then likely hand to hand. Yehppael's duty was to his fellow soldiers. But if the prophecy was real, then the humans were the real treasure to be protected. With the Hashmallim gone, Yehppael feared he was the only living angel who believed this. To act upon it, to abandon his fellow angels in order to protect the humans and the cicatrix bearer would be considered high treason.

Especially by Tamael.

Though she wore a mask of fierce determination under her battle helmet, Yehppael could read her true emotions clearly. She was valiant. But she was very, very afraid.

I am too.

The humans could save them. The girl could destroy the entire invading army with a single flick of the wrist.

The Human girl, he typed into his console. We should bring her and her weapon near the surface. He sent the message to Tamael.

I've already arranged for it, she replied.

“They're crossing the first defense pattern,” came the report.

The defenses here were mostly automatic, designed that way to prepare those in the control center for the much more devastating second wave of defenses. Yehppael watched anxiously as the three armies converged like black swarms of locusts on the screen. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed hard.

The ready lights of the drones blinked on and off ominously, an electronic battle already raging between the engineers sitting behind him and some unknown demon force, presumably deep within Cibola.

After the drones were exhausted, their last line of remote defense was an array of extremely powerful cannons. Their connections with them direct and by cable.

Finally, Yehppael himself would give battlefield instructions to the brave pilots in the remanufactured air force, plotting their attacks from a camera drone flying high above the fight. And after they were destroyed, he and Tamael would lead the others within this very room to defend the entrance.

Strapped against the back of his chair, his rifle hummed.

“Attack,” Tamael said. Her voice almost a whisper.

“Here we go,” a soldier muttered, pulling his helmet over his head.

Yehppael did the same with his, patching himself into the computer. Most of the sounds around him were filtered out.

“May He bless your swords,” came the benediction from Tamael.

Hidden along a horizontal line within the already-torn battlefield were several missile batteries. These elongated boxes suddenly popped out of the grass, uprooting the dirt and bones upon them. Those batteries within range of one of the primary targets—the three massive transport ships—immediately locked in and fired. Several malfunctioned. A few even exploded. Those out of range unleashed their fire on the secondary targets, the escorts.

From a ground camera, Yehppael watched the rockets corkscrew into the sky toward their mammoth targets high above. The machines took up the whole arc of vision. The camera went white as the missiles began finding their targets.

The radar showed the explosions, but the screen was so muddied the results weren't clear. Already more missiles were streaking into the sky, exploding along the rear of the invading army. The tight formation of the Pazuzu troops buckled.

“Report?” Tamael demanded, her voice cracking over the band.

“Most of the mechanical escorts, save two, seem to have been destroyed. All three of the transports remain intact, though one appears to be making an emergency landing.”

An iron pit of fear formed in Yehppael's gut. They should all be gone. “Activate drones.” Her voice was strained.

The screen before Yehppael sprang up. Half of the drones didn't respond. The others jumped into the air from their hidden bunkers and streaked toward the armies, firing blasts from the rapidly closing distance. The controls were erratic, and drones randomly lost radio contact and sometimes plummeted.

Yehppael sent drones cutting upwards through the center of the demon formation, forcing the invaders to split. Though the invading forces were strong and numerous, it was clear they weren't expecting a response this powerful. Soon the center squadron of scorpion-tailed Pazuzu scattered, any semblance of order destroyed.

Yehppael and half the others moved their drones through the confused demons and toward the flank of the Dahhak flock. The Pazuzu who attempted to retaliate against the flying machines kept blasting their own soldiers out of the sky.

For Yehppael, it was silent chaos.

The drone juggernaut pierced the Dahhak flank like a sharpened blade, but the demons' discipline was much stronger than that of the more imposing Pazuzu. The Dahhak held their formation, allowing the drones to crash into them rather than dive out of the way. The momentum of the black drones was enough to rip the Dahhak in two, but it also destroyed the drone.

Between the drones inexplicably dropping out of the sky and the ones being sacrificed against a single demon, they were quickly running out. The sheer numbers of the enemy were overpowering them.

“Forays, prepare to launch,” Tamael called. “Scatter and blow the remaining drones. Power up the manual defense batteries.”

Yehppael forced his few remaining drones to an equal length, self-destructing them. The pieces scattered like tiny blades, cutting through the Dahhak. Now, the only drones that remained were the tiny camera bots, zipping about high above. He didn't have time to assess the damage. Already the screen before him altered, and the cannon controls raised from the dual rests on his chair. He inserted his arms into the braces.

He was virtually transported to the battlefield. His “eye” was placed right in the center of the three barrels of his cannon as it emerged from the ground. Even the outdoor sounds were there. Sometimes he didn't understand the logic of those who designed these weapons. It was an especially disconcerting feeling.

The enemy army was a spreading ink spot in the crimson sky.

In the distance, a dark cloud rose, soon followed by the rumble of a distant, loud explosion. The damaged transport had failed its emergency landing, whatever inside hopefully killed.

Yehppael uttered a command, and his visual of the enemy zoomed in. The larger Pazuzu were still disorganized, but both Dahhak regiments appeared in shape, hardly a dent in them after all that. An orderly swarm of death.

“The forward ranks of the Pazuzu are armed with shoulder missiles,” a drone scout reported. “Damage and payload not yet ascertained.”

Wonderful. Nothing was worse than facing unknown weaponry. Focus horizontally on the front enemy lines, came the order from Tamael.

Still, they came closer and closer to the line of effective range. His hands itched at the controls. He zoomed to the point he could see the sharpened teeth of the Pazuzu gleaming in the light. They closed in on the invisible line. Closer. Closer.

“Fire!” Tamael cried so loud it distorted over the band.

Yehppael pulled the trigger, unleashing hell.

* * *

A pair of guards abruptly burst in on them, surprising Hitomi. She found herself backing away.

“You are to come with us,” the guard said.

“What's going on?” Gramm asked, standing.

“Come on,” the guard said, herding them out of the room.

They were led into the meeting chamber and down a hallway with flickering lights. There were many curves and branches. The few angels they did see were hurrying. Most didn't acknowledge the humans. They were all armed with rifles.

They turned a corner to what looked like a dead end. Hitomi exchanged worried glances with the other three.

But then, the wall slid open, revealing a metallic staircase. It curved in circles both up and down. They stepped onto the wide steps and followed the pair of guards upwards, their footfalls echoing like plates being smashed. Behind, the rock entrance to the staircase slid closed.

Another pair of armed guards appeared at the top of the stairs, in full armor and helmets. They stared stonily forward, their eyes completely blocked out by the visors. Their mouths reflected a pure lack of emotion, almost like statues.

They passed through and into a whirlwind of activity.

“Wow,” Dave exclaimed.

This was a tall cavern filled with several fighter-jet looking aircraft, all raised vertically like spaceships ready to fire off, though there weren't any openings for them to launch out of. The aircraft were about three times longer than the fighter jets of the world they had left behind. But these jets had shorter wings, and no engines Hitomi could see. Like one of her brother's models.

The machines all emanated a hum, not too loud, but noisy enough to indicate they were ready to launch at any moment. Each of the jet planes were surrounded by angels, all busily working on them. Some were on the ground, some hovered, their wings extended.

Hitomi had never seen an angel actually fly before. Unlike the demons, who were more bat-like, the floating angels were beautiful. Their wingspan was incredible, nearly ten meters from tip to tip, and the white translucent wings drifted against wind currents that just weren't there, like streamers on a breezy day. If two angels floated side by side, their wings passed in and out and through each other, neither pair being displaced or disturbed, as if the wings were merely an illusion. When the angels turned, the white strands lazily caught up.

Each plane had a cockpit, and through the tinted glass, an angel sat within, flipping switches, preparing the plane.

“Stay here. Do not move or you will be shot,” the guard said, pushing them against a wall and out of the way. He turned and leaped into the air, his wings expanding like a yanked parachute, drifting up into the air.

A group of about 200 angels in armor appeared from another hallway and marched past, their feet hitting the ground in an uneven, undisciplined staccato. They wore helmets, but with the visors up. As they passed by, some turned to glare at them.

Most of them had the unmistakable look of anxiety on their faces. A slight scent rose in the group's wake, like pan-fried sugar as it starts to burn. The smell of fear. Hitomi remembered Colonel Yehppael's story. Only a few of them were actual soldiers. The rest were engineers, those who helped behind the scenes, not in direct battle.

A loud but distant explosion echoed from high above, rocking the entire cavern. Followed by more explosions. Rocks and dirt showered down after the first boom. Hitomi instinctively held her arms up, remembering the giant tree branch that had almost crushed her. Between the concussions, she heard one angel say to another, “The cannons.”

The ambient yellowish light in the room suddenly turned a deep red. The angels around the fighters scurried away, some flying up to a center platform, others down and against the walls.

The fighters abruptly streaked upwards and out of the cavern. Hitomi let out a yelp of surprise at the sudden chaos and fell, but Dave's strong arms caught her.

The fighters crashed straight through the ceiling of the room as if it was made of paper, leaving gaping holes that revealed red sky. The cavern filled with the choking stench of overburdened machinery. Hitomi's eyes watered as she gasped. The smoke cleared away quickly, but the taste of metal remained in her mouth.

After a pause, the activity was quickly renewed. The angels were leaving. Most exited through the large passageway, but some passed out through the stairwell, none taking heed of the four humans.

“What are we supposed to do?” Gramm asked, looking about. Indigo said something, but Hitomi didn't hear.

After the room was almost entirely abandoned, four angels descended.

“It is time,” one of them said.

They all looked at each other.

“For what?” Indigo asked.

The angel pointed up. “We're to expel you before this cavern is blown closed.”

“Whaddya mean?” Dave demanded. “You're putting us out there with the explosions and fighter jets and demons?”

“If you would prefer, you can stay here as we destroy the cavern.”

Hitomi's heart tightened. She knew what they wanted, but they were too proud to ask. She clutched tightly to periscepter in her hand.

“How are we going to get up there?” Gramm asked. The ceiling was hundreds of meters in the air.

The male angel's lip curled with distaste. “We're carrying you.”

“Let's go, then,” Indigo said, stepping forward into the arms of the angel. The angel grabbed Indigo roughly and jumped into the air, his phantom wings snapping open. The angel's arms made Dave's seem like twigs.

Before Hitomi could say anything or react, another angel grasped onto her. And just like that, they were flying. Her stomach lurched, giving her a sudden and unexpected memory. The angel's arm felt like steel.

They flew toward one of the openings left by the fighter jets.

The whole trip took seconds. They were plopped unceremoniously into the tall grass. They weren't far from where they had been originally captured. The tall trees loomed behind them, and the scattered hunks of fallen wreckage still littered the area like an overgrown junkyard.

“No weapons? Armor?” Dave asked. “At least you can give us what we had when we got here.”

The angel sneered. “You best run, boy. When they blow the cavern, everything you see around you is going to be swallowed by the discharge.” The four angels turned and disappeared back into the hole.

Far to their left, movement caught Hitomi's eyes. A triple-barreled black cannon glared at the sky. It was something from the deck of a battleship. It roared, fire streaking from its jaw into the distant haze. The sound was a physical thing, like a slap to the head. Her ears burned. The ground shook like thunder.

“Hey, at least we're free,” Dave said drily.

“What do we do now?” Gramm asked.

Indigo stared down into the giant hole, then at the cannon. “We run.”

17

Tamael - Hitomi

Colonel Tamael watched sadly as the twenty Forays burst from the ground and into the turmoil. She bore no false hope about their chances. There had been several hundred thousand of the flying machines in use when the demons had originally attacked, maybe more. The fleet had been annihilated, merely a nuisance to the invading armies.

The fighters screamed toward the invaders. She turned her camera drone back toward the holes they left in the ground. Any moment now. Yes, here they come.

She had silently ordered their expulsion, not wanting to upset Yehppael. If the Hashmallim had been correct, it was the proper thing to do. Their destinies were no longer in her control. If the Hashmallim were wrong, they would be quickly killed.

Either way, they were armed with enormously powerful weapons. Tamael could never ask for their help, but placing them into the heat of the battle could possibly force the humans to react in self-defense. It was her only option.

She watched as they spoke, then ran. Three of them started back toward the forest while one—the former angel—actually headed toward Cibola. They stopped when they realized they had a different idea of where they were going, then argued. Indigo and the three others ran toward the danger. Tamael shook her head with surprise.

She wondered about that one, their leader. It was a shame this Indigo had no memory of her treachery. What could possibly bring an angel to such lengths? To kill herself dishonorably, to invite shame and scorn for eternity. Tamael couldn't fathom it.

Though you aren't much better, are you?

Stop. Suicide was a deliberate, treacherous act. Failure in battle was an honorable thing as long as you offered everything you had.

I gave everything I had. Didn't I?

Yehppael forced herself to focus. After the humans were at a safe distance, she ordered the Foray launch chamber to be blown shut. If they were going to take this base, she wasn't going to make it any easier for them.

The enemy casualties were still not what she hoped. So far, less than a quarter had been destroyed. And even more worrisome, two of the three armored freighters still flew. She knew all too well what those were designed to carry.

“The forward group of the Pazuzu are firing their missiles!”

“Intercept!” she cried. Immediately, the AI-controlled, close-range defense system sprang up. Hundreds of mini batteries would attempt to destroy the missiles moments before impact.

“They're not engaging!” an engineer cried.

Damn it.

“Brace for impact!” someone called.

Yehppael helplessly watched the radar as hundreds of red lights converged.

This place is designed to withstand several direct hits, she told herself as she grabbed the rests on her chair. She prayed.

Thump. Thump, thump. Thump.

That was it. Nothing. Not even a slight tremor. Relief was soon replaced with alarm.

“Report?” she barked.

“Impact,” came the reply. “But no detonation.”

“Heavy signals emanating from the projectiles,” another engineer reported.

Yehppael snarled. “What's their purpose?”

“I am unable to determine.”

She wanted to scream. “I want them destroyed. Right now. Blow those shells up one by one if you must.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Colonel Yehppael,” she said. “I want the cannons to focus on those two transports. They are not to land. Understand? The fighters are to engage them as well.”

He nodded without turning away from his station. “Understood.”

Over the next several minutes, they poured fire and missiles into the two transports. The flying warehouses neither faltered nor seemed fazed at all by the attacks. Indestructible. It was amazing they even got one to go down.

The two giant airships began their descent, their forward jaws slowly opening, ready to reveal the terrors within.

Dear God no.

Nothing was going as planned. It was happening all over again. The unstoppable juggernaut of darkness was overrunning them.

Focus, focus.

“Release the wings. All of them. Hold the lines as much as we can, then regroup within the forest.”

“Abandon the base?” someone cried.

She ignored him. The mighty doors of the transports swung wide just as they alighted on the ground, crushing any wreckage underneath. She held her breath as she watched the shadows within. Several moments passed.

A few well-aimed cannon blasts lit up the cavernous interior of the transports.

Nothing. They were empty.

A diversion. And she had fallen for it.

Something didn't seem right, however. Another trap was in there somewhere, and she couldn't see it. “Are those projectiles still emanating a signal?”

“Yes. It has not altered.”

She turned toward a soldier desperately typing out her constant stream of orders. “I wanted them destroyed by now. Why are they still there?”

“They will be destroyed, ma'am, but you must allow some time for…”

He never finished.

The rock ground below him fissured and cracked like glass. The whole control center sunk a few inches with a jolt, and several angels fell from their posts and toppled against one another. The center control screen ripped in half and blinked out, sparks screaming from the ruptured wires.

“What's going on?” she yelled, launching herself to hover over the chaos.

“The structure of the caves has been breached. We are under attack from below,” Yehppael called back. Then he was beside her, gun in hands. “We must get out of here before everything falls in on us.”

The third transport. It hadn't crashed at all. The beast within was now digging below. It was going to rip the whole place to rubble, and they were all trapped.

A simple diversion, and she had failed to see it.

Below, the rock churned like boiling water. Both angel and machine caught in the mix. Yehppael swooped down to grab the hand of an angel snared under a fallen computer, but the arm of the soldier turned to dust as his life slipped away.

“The humans,” Yehppael said, desperation in his voice. “We must ensure their safety.”

“They're already out,” she called, irritated. “Everyone on top!”

Rock fell like rain, walls cracked like ice.

* * *

Hitomi dove as the loud explosion echoed behind her, shaking the soil. They had barely made it far enough. The grass was rough against her face, and the stench of soil and smoke burned in her nose.

“Come on,” Indigo said, jumping up. She bled from a cut on her forehead.

The cannons continued to fire, filling the air with an oil-rich stench, vibrating the ground.

“I still say we go back,” Gramm said.

“It's too late now,” Dave replied, pulling him up. He pointed back to where they had just come from. Dirt, rock, and old machinery continued to cascade down like it was a black hole. A hole that was still widening.

Above, a dark cloud was rolling in, broiling with bursts of thunder and lightning.

At least that's what Hitomi thought it was at first.

Indigo was suddenly beside her, her hand a vice on her shoulder. Like her father used to do when he didn't want her to turn away.

“Be strong, Hitomi. I'll do the best I can, but it may all come down to you.”

“I'll try,” she squeaked. The sound of her own voice reminded her of how small she was, how insignificant. How empty and frail.

“There is no trying. Only doing.” Indigo's eyes were wild and distant. It was a look Hitomi hadn't seen before from her friend, and it scared her.

Hundreds of missiles came from the black flock in the sky, rocketing toward them, trailing black smoke. Hitomi and the others threw themselves to the ground in terror. But the missiles streaked over their heads, pounding into the ground behind the hole they had emerged from. Hitomi put her arms over her head, but this time there was no explosion. They jumped back to their feet and ran for a blackened, horned skull the size of a whale.

They cowered within the shelter. It smelled dreadful in here, like a barrel of gutted fish left to rot in the sun. Hitomi had to hold back the gag reflex.

“Why do I get the feeling we've done this before?” Dave asked.

18

Tamael - Dave - the Overseer

Tamael ran for her life.

The cursed hallways were too narrow to allow proper flight, and the cave system hadn't been designed to be defended against a subterranean threat. Whatever it was, it had torn through the lowest of levels, and it was about to shoot through the main floor, forever breaking the back of the base. They had no way of stopping it.

The angels fled through the few—too few—hidden escape tunnels like birds off a burning tree.

The attack had been precisely timed, and the angels escaped directly into the murderous crossfire of the Pazuzu Stingers.

Yehppael and Tamael burst through a tunnel at the last possible moment. The collapsing rock tried to devour her legs and feet, and it almost had her. The screams of the others still echoed in her mind, and she briefly wondered why she could hear it. Then, Tamael realized with terror her helmet was gone! Lost in the chaos. A blast burst off her chest as she turned back toward the decimated base.

No, not again.

She had to get it back. How could she have let this happen? Again. Thrown into the heat of battle without a helmet to give guidance to her position and to help her aim. Without communication.

Without the filter to remove the unspeakable carnage.

“Don't even consider it,” Yehppael cried, firing his weapon off at a boiling group of Stingers. He reached out and grabbed her by the back of her armor.

“Take my helmet,” he said into her ear. “Just don't break down. Not now.”

Before she could protest, Yehppael's helmet was shoved onto her head. It took a few moments for it to self-adjust, and she focused just in time to see him pulling another helmet onto his own head. She didn't see where he got it, but the angel that had been flying to her left a moment ago was gone.

Tamael breathed in and assessed the situation. The angels were scattered and disorganized. They were being picked off almost leisurely.

She screamed orders. A loose, three-tiered wedge was hastily formed, and they swooped east toward the smaller of the two Dahhak formations. She pulled herself to the front of the middle line.

Three battered Forays remained, and they strafed the Pazuzu to cover them. She winced as one exploded in a ripping fireball. Her plan was to drive the formation under, then to the rear of the Dahhak. From there they would lay a suppressing fire and retreat to the rally point. It was weak, but it was all they had.

* * *

The ground shook as the base was destroyed, and through a crack in the massive skull, Dave watched the angels' desperate escape. They flew incredibly fast, a blur in the sky. But the demons were precise with their weapons, and most of the blasts seemed to make their target. It took several direct hits to knock an angel from the sky, but some were getting peppered with the pulses.

The sound of a dying angel was a terrible, unforgettable thing. A high-pitched, mirror-shattering squeal, but also flush with a low, distorted, almost-electronic rumble. Dave felt each death in his bones. Their pain was heart-wrenching.

“They're getting slaughtered out there,” Dave said.

“We have to do something,” Indigo said.

“What're you talking about?” Gramm said. His face was covered with red dirt, and his long hair was disheveled and grimy, like a mad man. Gramm had been out of sorts since the moment they lost Rico to the demon. “You want to help them? They're the ones who put us here. They're the ones who tortured you.” He plopped himself down into the dirt. “This isn't our fight. I thought maybe it was, but it's not.”

Dave was speechless. It was something he'd have expected Rico to say.

“Listen,” Indigo said. The trident-shaped injury on her face almost glowed in the shadow of the giant skull. “I don't like most of these guys either, but the demons will kill us. Or worse. The angels are the good guys, even if they don't seem to be.”

Gramm spit. “You amaze me.”

A dark figure appeared at the entrance to the skull. They all cried out in surprise, scattering against the far wall. All except Hitomi, who pulled her periscepter like she was Billy the Kid. She lit up the helmeted form of Colonel Yehppael wearing full armor.

“You are not safe here. We must leave immediately,” the large angel said.

“Get lost,” Gramm said, coming to stand toe-to-toe with the angel “We don't want your help.”

Yehppael punched him in the face, his arm flying back then forward at a speed Dave didn't think possible. Gramm crumpled, blood spurting like a popped water balloon.

“Hey,” Indigo yelled, running forward.

Yehppael threw Gramm over his shoulder. “We haven't time to argue. Come.”

Dave looked at Indigo. She shrugged. They didn't have much choice. Hitomi wielded a periscepter in each hand.

They crept out of their hiding place and into the turmoil. The sky above was lit like a day-time laser show. A pair of the fighter jets they had watched take off streaked over them in the sky. One smoked badly. They curved in the air and plunged into the middle group of demons—the terrifying giant scorpion men. The plane that hadn't been smoking suddenly blew up. It tumbled like a bowling ball through the demons, ripping them apart. The wreckage somersaulted and exploded, taking its place on the ground amongst other relics of past battles.

“Where are we going?” Indigo demanded.

“I don't know,” Yehppael grunted. He seemed unused to the quick walking. “But we're too close to the base. In any moment…” He paused, then jerked his head suddenly up in the sky.

“No,” he cried. “Wait before you charge.”

The angels had formed a group, but they were mixed in with the demons. He looked at Hitomi. “I beseech you. Please help.”

* * *

“Colonel, I need your help,” Tamael said to Yehppael. When he didn't answer immediately, she turned in surprise. Gone. She pinged him, and her heart leaped when he was located on the surface.

But her fear was soon replaced with anger.

The humans.

“Damn it, Yehppael,” she said. “I order you to fall into formation.”

Ahead, they came onto the immense army of Dahhak. Battle cries from both sides pierced. The Dahhak sounded like hunting birds of prey, while the angels' lower cry was that of an air train. The battle smell from both sides was tangible, not mixing well with each other, almost dizzying. The two parties clashed, the angels' superior weapons tearing up the demons—the demons' numbers overwhelming.

Tamael swung her weapon up like a club into the face of a diving Dahhak. It screamed, spiraling down. A pack of shrieking demons dropped on her. She shot one point-blank, and its blood exploded over her visor, hot on her chin, bitter in her mouth.

“Yehppael,” she cried again. “Please. I need you here.” The continuous blasts burned her back. Her armor couldn't take much more.

Then, a reprieve.

A wide arc of the True Light cut through them. She felt the wonderful warmth entering her, filling her with strength. The Dahhak simply disappeared, their weapons and armor continuing forward with the momentum before dropping away. The disciplined demons panicked. They tore at each other to get away.

When the humans had told their tale earlier, Tamael had been enraptured by the part about the Light cutting through the demons, eradicating them completely. And even though she knew this is what the True Light did, part of her still hadn't believed it. It seemed too easy. It was beautiful in a way. Clean. Perfect.

She turned to search for Yehppael and the humans. The visor located them, but they were moving. Running. Unprotected through the field. One of them was thrown over Yehppael's shoulder.

Below, the ground that had seemed to momentarily settle, erupted in an explosion of rock and dirt. Two claws emerged, each one twice the size of a Foray. Then a black, eyeless head appeared.

The six-legged monstrosity extracted itself from the hole in the ground. It pounded on the unexploded missiles with its massive feet, sending the already uprooted rock flying with each stomp.

The Light arced into the sky like a spotlight, and Dahhak and Pazuzu fled madly. The power, the sheer magnitude of the weapon was still sinking in. Hitomi aimed the light weapon at the giant monster, but it had no effect.

“To the rally point,” Tamael ordered over the band.

She didn't follow her own troops. Before she could talk herself out of it, she dove over the monstrosity, which still thrashed about the surface, crushing the radio beacon missles, and toward the humans and Yehppael. She picked four angels—all true Powers—and had them accompany her.

“Yehppael, we're coming in,” she said. “We're getting them out of here.”

* * *

Within Cibola, the Overseer watched the heated battle intently on several screens. The helmet-mounted cameras were scattered amongst officers within the regiments.

With one meaty hand, he stroked the head of a human slave intently milking a pleasure node. With the other he constantly changed the angle of display, trying desperately to get the feel of the battle. He yelled at his assistant, Ko, to locate better cameras. The fool Geyrun apologized profusely. There simply weren't better shots available. The death of an angel was too anticlimactic for his tastes, but their screams of pain were a suitable consolation. He almost wished he was there. Almost.

The accidental overdose, and subsequent death, of two of the Burrowers had, in fact, turned out for the best. The angels had focused their weaponry on the flying machines—machines designed to withstand the turbulent storms of his homeworld. They hadn't even managed to inconvenience the pilots.

The one remaining Burrower had been released far from the base, and the radio flares had been fired off at the ground above. As predicted, the creature dug deep to flee the signals, but was stopped at the ice core. It then homed in on the flares, attempting to destroy them. It had ripped through the base. The results were spectacular. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

He watched with joy as the angels fled the base. It was almost unfair.

“Ko, I need a flagon of extract,” he bellowed down to his assistant. “I must celebrate.” But the fool's eyes were glued to the screens.

“Ko,” he barked. His groveling assistant normally jumped at his commands. His last two Geyrun personal assistants had to be executed because they were too slow. And Ko knew this. “Ko!”

“The screens, My Lord,” Ko said with a nervous titter. “Look.”

It only took a moment to register why a whole regiment was suddenly decimated. He watched in horrified fascination as the True Light annihilated his elaborate battle plan.

“What was that?” the Overseer roared.

“That would be a periscepter, My Lord,” Ko said.

The periscepters. They were here. He was astonished. They weren't just an illusion as the idiot Charun had suggested.

He had pulled his hands into tight fists. In one hand, the display controller had been crushed. In the other, the human.

“Call a meeting,” he roared, wiping his hand on his divan. “I want all my commanders here.” He drove his heel into the ground, and an angry crack spiderwebbed around the indentation. Ko giggled. They were soon going to have to evacuate this headquarters too. Couldn't these worthless angels build anything right?

A communication window popped up. It was the grande-commander, Pooljab. He was a Dahhak. One of the few the Overseer considered competent. “

What is it?” the Overseer growled. “I'm busy.”

“I have someone here who needs to speak with you.”

The Overseer grunted. Why weren't his nodes being milked? He looked about for someone to berated. Then he saw the remnants of blood and gore on his hand and remembered.

Pooljab continued. “His name is Hekka, a member of the Tempest Squadron you sent out earlier with the Charun.”

A younger Dahhak appeared on the screen. His eyes were averted, and he was deep in one of the inane Dahhak prayers.

“I thought they were all dead.”

“That,” Commander Pooljab said, “is why we need to speak.”

19

Dave - Tamael

Dave screamed as two powerful arms wrapped around him from behind. He tried to twist away as his feet lifted from the ground. “Don't struggle, or I might lose grip,” his captor whispered in his ear. An angel.

“What're you doing?” he cried.

“Removing you from harm,” the large, male angel said. Beside him, the others flew in much the same manner. Only Gramm—who had woken up—still struggled, and the angel holding him looked irritated enough to knock him out again.

A few bolts of fire streaked by them, but the demons were mostly in retreat. Below, the godzilla-sized horror dug a new hole, dirt and rock showering hundreds of feet into the air. Seconds later the giant thing was gone, just as quickly as it came.

Hitomi shone her light at the retreating armies. Their armor and weapons tumbled forward like a badly thrown football, wobbling, then arcing down to the fields.

Without warning, a flight of seven or eight of the scorpion men shot up at them from below. “Watch out,” Dave cried as round balls of fire streaked up toward them. The angel holding him dove to the left just as the fire ripped past, a moment later followed by the howling demons, leaving a wake that reeked of dead flesh and pestilence. It sat thick in Dave's mouth and throat, and he gagged.

Hitomi and Indigo both shot at them, along with Yehppael and that red-haired angel, Colonel Tamael, but the demons all split in different directions. Only a few were captured by the light. The rest spread, then dove.

Dave's angel had to twist and pirouette away. Dave felt the shock of a blast against the angel's back and its “Hmmph” of surprise. Blue fire reached around both sides of the armor, licking Dave's skin, giving him a momentary sensation of intense pain. The angel cursed, then banked away again.

A scorpion screamed toward them, raking a claw across the chin of the angel. A moment later, the thing's head was blown off by Colonel Tamael. After another shot by Yehppael, the scorpions were all slain. They were safe for the moment.

“Shit, that was close,” Dave muttered, still trembling and coughing. He was breathless, his heart thrashing. An arm slipped away, and Dave felt the grip on him weaken, as if he was about to be dropped. He looked up, and he cried out with alarm. The skin around the wound on the angel's chin boiled like cheese in the microwave. The angel screamed, the wound spreading down his neck, under the collar. His skin sloughed off, pouring down the outside of his armor.

Then, the angel simply disappeared. His armor was still there, the massive gun still strapped to the back as it sailed over Dave's head, still continuing the forward motion. But the angel was gone.

Dave plummeted like a rock. He screamed, waving his arms.

Yehppael swooped in, knocking the breath out of him as he was caught in mid tumble. Dave felt like he had hit a brick wall. But he was alive.

“Thanks,” he wheezed.

They headed back toward the forest. Soon, the demons were gone. Even the massive demon transports had taken off and returned home in the midst of the chaos.

Dave noticed Hitomi's eyes were clenched shut, yet tears were still finding a path down her face. They spread like a drizzle as she raised her head against the wind of their flight. He did not envy her. She was so small, so gentle. Beautiful, too.

“We're going the wrong way,” Indigo said, raising her voice enough to be heard over the rushing air. “We need to go to the Spire of Jhunayn. It's in the city.”

Tamael grunted. “We know where the Spire is. You're not going there anytime soon. Even your astounding luck wouldn't save you then.”

“Why not? What's there?” Indigo asked.

They reached the trees. Far to the left, some still smoldered from their earlier encounter with the demons. It seemed like ages ago. Though they weren't above the trees, they were high enough that they were free of the thick underbrush. The massive trunks of the larger trees rose like a field of reeds sticking out of murky water.

“What do you think is there?” Yehppael asked.

Indigo shook her head. “I don't know.”

“It's where the Unraveler told us to go,” Gramm said. After the attack by the scorpion men, he had stopped resisting.

Tamael shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Be wary of creatures wandering the forest,” she said. “It is ripe not only with demons, but others with motivations that only serve them.”

“Still, that's where we need to go,” Indigo said.

“You're our wards now,” Tamael said. “I was to let you go, but that was before I fully understood what you're capable of. We will offer you protection.”

“We can't be held like prisoners,” Indigo said.

Colonel Tamael didn't answer. They flew in silence. This was a part of the forest they hadn't seen before. The trees were getting smaller and denser. The angels lowered their flight slightly, now only a hundred feet off the ground. As a result, they had to do some quick maneuvering. Dave felt as if he was on a roller coaster, his stomach rumbling uneasily at some of the quick turns and dives. He dared not look forward. Only below.

Yehppael surprised Dave by speaking. “It is my opinion we should dispatch a team to the outskirts and allow the humans to continue their journey unfettered.”

Tamael twisted her head look at her fellow angel. Her mouth was turned down. She stopped in midair. They all jerked around to come to a floating circle. Far below, a pack of lion-sized creatures gazed up at them, their eyes an unnatural purple.

“No we shall not, Colonel,” Tamael said.

The two colonels stared at each other. Dave had to twist around to see what was happening. They were silently communicating somehow. While their helmets covered their eyes, Dave could tell from the pained expressions on the lower halves of their faces that they were having an intense argument. The other three angels looked extremely uncomfortable.

A single tear traced a path down Tamael's cheek. “I'm going to lose you,” she said.

Yehppael moved forward, placing his free hand on her shoulder. A flowery scent passed between the two angels. Dave nervously clung to his arm. He imagined the creatures below licking their lips.

“No,” Yehppael said. “I will return. I swear it on His throne.”

Tamael nodded. “The two male humans shall continue toward your destination. The females shall stay here with us.”

“Absolutely not,” Indigo said. “We are not going to be separated.”

“You don't have a choice,” she said. She grabbed Hitomi from the angel holding her, turned to the one clutching Indigo and said, “Let us continue.” And just like that, they were gone, off like ghosts in the night.

“Indigo!” Gramm screamed. A nesting of crow-sized birds scattered from a nearby tree, filling the air with their screeches.

She answered, but her call was lost in the clammer of the birds.

Dave was brusquely shoved into the arms of the angel that had been holding Hitomi. The chest of his armor still smelled of her. Sweet, like baby oil.

I'm never going to see her again, Dave thought.

“Hold the humans close to your chests, and the cloaking should conceal them also,” Yehppael said.

“I don't like this,” the angel growled. “We're taking them to the outskirts of Cibola? For what? It's suicide. If not for us, for them.”

“Maybe we should discuss this,” Dave said.

Yehppael glared at him.

“We're the only two that don't know how to use the periscepters,” Dave said. “If this place is so close to the bad guys, we're dead.”

Yehppael pulled one of Dave's periscepters from the sheath on his belt and shoved it into his hand. “Then you better start practicing.”

Dave and Gramm exchanged looks of terror. They had been five, then four, and now two. And Dave had no influence over anything that was happening. He felt like the little boy in his dreams. Lost. Afraid. Out of control. Things were happening too fast. And like his dreams, he feared this would have a similar, but real, ending.

Dear God, he prayed. Dear God.

* * *

Levi cautiously rolled onto his back, felt something mechanical crunch, and groaned as a fresh wave of pain swept over him.

“Zane?” he called. He was still wearing his helmet, but it was offline. Then he remembered. The desperate, high-speed flight from the temple. Fire raining upon them. Zane was dead. I should be too.

He was almost directly below the floating Dahhak temple. It still smoldered from the attack. Rocks occasionally fell from the floating, upside-down mountain. They crashed around him like giant hailstones. He was in immediate danger of being crushed by one. The floating temple was weeping.

Levi could still smell the death of the temple, taste it in his mouth. I have to get back to base. He reached up to untwist the control panel from the side of his helmet, but his hand found nothing, only his ear.

He was cut off from communication.

His weapon was gone. And none of his local systems worked, like his cloaking. He laughed. Why am I laughing? He laughed again, and it didn't sound like the laughter of a stable mind, even to his own ears. Things were getting better by the moment.

* * *

“This can't be it!” Tamael said, surveying the ragtag group. “Surely more are coming.”

Just about six hundred angels had made it, only twelve of them true Powers—not counting the two with Yehppael. Half of them were injured in one manner or another. Most huddled in circles, quietly mourning. As she watched, an angel gasped and burned away. Another wept. She felt like doing the same.

Is this it? Are we the only angels left?

A slight breeze rustled through the forest. She felt the fine grains of sand whip past her face—on their way to the final resting place of all angels. The infinite beach of death. A wave of sadness swept through her. So many brothers and sisters lost.

She dropped the human on the ground. She rolled away with a humph then scurried over to huddle with her fallen-angel companion amongst the acid glares of the angels.

“What now?” a soldier asked.

She unsnapped her helmet and peeled it off. The inside was still thick with Yehppael's scent, and she could take it no more. This part of the forest was darker even than some of the passages of their cave. She felt odd being here, so small. If their band of soldiers had been insubstantial before, then they were truly pitiful now.

“I don't know,” she wanted to say. She wanted to turn to Yehppael for his silent guidance, or direct the question to the wise Hashmallim. But she couldn't. Not anymore.

So instead, she said nothing.

A long time passed. Tamael waited, hoping more angels would come. None did. How could this have happened? She watched the angels huddle like children. Each of them was the face of defeat. Utter defeat.

I have to say something.

She spoke, loudly enough so everyone would hear. “Our numbers may be decimated.”

The angels snapped to attention and stood tall at the sound of their leader's voice. “And we may not comprise the most powerful force. But I am proud to stand before you, my brothers and sisters. Proud to be an angel—even in this, our darkest hour since the Fall.”

Tamael felt herself standing taller. She extended her wings and rose a few feet off the ground. “Standing before me are the most brilliant minds I have ever had the honor of knowing. Who else could've taken a simple outpost and turned it to a military base using only the crushed remnants of a battle lost?

“This isn't the first time we have fallen so hard that it would seem impossible to rise again. Our numbers have been weakened, but as long as life flows through me, I shall fight against the demons until I am nothing but a grain of dust. To do anything else would be an insult to those who've given everything.”

From the corner of her eye she saw one of the angels who had slain the Hashmallim. Verdan was his name. He nodded fervently. Damn you, she thought.

She turned her head to stare directly at the angel. He held her gaze. “Past mistakes will be forgiven,” she continued. “But not forgotten. For we must learn from them if we hope to be successful in our quest.”

“What is our quest, Colonel?” Verdan asked.

She turned to the humans. Both had fallen asleep as they waited for the others to return. The two tiny forms huddled together.

Her eyes rested on Indigo, the traitor. Past mistakes will be forgiven.

“At this very moment we stand before a split in the path of history. There are two ways to go. One, the easy path, a path that leads toward relative safety. And it comes at the heavy price of ignominy on our honor.

“The other path isn't much better, I fear. Our souls will remain unburdened, except with the knowledge we are heading toward almost certain death. Perhaps even extinction. As your leader, I can't allow myself to accept that. Not yet.

“Therefore I am forced to seek a third path, one which has never been traveled before. Many of you are not going to like it, but these are desperate times.”

“What?” an angel asked. “What is it?”

She took a step toward the sleeping human girls, gesturing toward them. “We put ourselves in their hands.”

End of Book 1

Did you enjoy this book? Please leave a review!

Book 2, In the City of Demons will be released in February 2020. Book 3, The Great Devouring Darkness will be released in March 2020.

Books by Matt Dinniman:

Trailer Park Fairy Tales: A Collection

The Grinding

The Dominion of Blades Series:

Dominion of Blades

The Hobgoblin Riot

The Thieves of Grandeur (Forthcoming)

Kaiju: Battlefield Surgeon

The Shivered Sky Trilogy:

Every Grain of Sand

In the City of Demons

The Great Devouring Darkness

Coming Soon:

Dungeon Crawler Carl

Glossary of Terms

Glossary of Terms

Absolute Darkness – The complete, utter absence of light. Only exists within the demon planes; deadly to angels.

Acolyte – A student of Moloch, usually a worker in the temple; almost exclusively Dahhak.

Alli – Dahhak. Well known for his skill at the Dance of Libation.

Angel – 1. Any inhabitant of the nine hierarchical tiers of Heaven's original population. 2. A specific caste, the bottom tier of the nine hierarchical levels (see appendix b.). The largest group by tenfold. The common angel has the appearance of a tall human with phantom-like wings. A common angel can only raise status by becoming a Power.

Anima Bot – A holographic computer simulation of an officer in the angel army. They are downloaded with the officer's intelligence and skill and are designed to be used by soldiers in the field for guidance when the real officer cannot be contacted. They are not trusted and used sparingly.

Archangel – An angel caste. The second to bottom tier of the nine hierarchical levels (see appendix b.). By sight, there is little difference between a common angel and an archangel. They tend to be more intelligent and very slightly larger. An Archangel can raise status by becoming a Power.

Arch-Demon – Any of the various races of intelligent and unusually large demons, the most common of which are the Overseers. The majority of arch-demons do not have wings.

Arch-Rector – The leader of the Moloch faith. Lives in the Dahhak realm.

Arms Officer – Usually the second highest ranking officer in a Dominion platoon.

Asag – An arch-demon race. One of twelve council seats. Large, round, three-legged, three-armed creature with no neck and several eyes covering their entire bulk. Has dark, hardened skin that feels like rock when touched. Almost indestructible. Often work as security, handlers, jailers, foot soldiers, or construction. Anything that requires great strength.

Ascot – A Mite. Personal assistant to Uzkiev.

Ashia – A Virtue.

Athenaeum – Great Library in the city of Cibola. Occupies the lower floors of the Tower. The Sphere is located within.

Baka – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. They appear to be small, skittish crane-like birds. Fiercely intelligent. Said to be the first to suggest the formation of the Dominion.

Beacon – One of millions of pyramids located near the ether pool, designed to summon the souls of humans as they die within the Sphere.

Blood Anger – State of disfavor upon a Dahhak clan by the god, Moloch. Usually caused by some form of sacrilege. Individual members are punished until the proper rites are performed.

Booja – A female Geyrun who lives on an Overseer-controlled world. A slave. Mother of Qulp.

Book of Ancestors – A book located in a Dahhak family's clan temple. Every member of the clan has a page dedicated to him, unless he shames the clan somehow. Then it is burned. A clan's greatness is measured by the thickness of the book.

Broken Fist – An elusive terrorist organization comprised of members of various demon races. Believe dependence upon humans is the downfall of their societies, and actively work against slavery and importing humans. Are known to randomly attack humans, and their ultimate goal is the destruction of the Sphere.

Burrower – A hairy, armored, gigantic creature with six legs. Approximately 500 feet tall. From the Overseer world, used to dig large holes quickly. Very difficult to control and handle.

Cabael – Angel. Seraph.

Caduceus – A hollow wooden wand carried by all rectors and other officials of the Moloch church. Filled with the ground bone of serpents.

Camp, the – A large outdoors prison.

Carumba – Dave's pet Siberian Husky

Catechist, the – A secretive department of the Dominion military; an elite branch of Flamen. They investigate treasonous acts within the military infrastructure. Consists of an unknown number, but is always referred to as a single entity.

Charun –  A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Primarily females, who devour the males upon mating. They resemble large vultures, but have two pairs of rounded wings and powerful, clawed arms. Unmated male Charun are much more intelligent, and often given the task of ferrying souls to and from the Charun underworld.

Chancellor – Official title of one who sits upon the Council of Twelve.

Cherubim – An angel caste. Second in the first Choir of angel hierarchy, behind only the Seraphim. They are collectors of knowledge. They are the spiritual leaders of Heaven, speaking for the Creator.  Said to take two forms, one is that of a common angel, the other a mystery.

Chider – A small animal that lives within the forest.

Children of Moloch – Creatures, often humans, believed to be brought into existence with the purpose of punishing Dahhak and other Molochites who have evoked Moloch's Blood Anger. The rite of Temple Oblation on one of the Children satisfies the God's anger. Believed to be nothing more than superstition by all those other than Molochites.

Choir – One of three sections of the angel hierarchy. The first Choir is headed by the Seraphim, the second Choir is headed by the Hashmallim, and the third Choir is headed by the Principalities.

Cibola – The capital metropolis of Heaven.

Cicatrix – A scar that appears on the backs of some humans after they have arrived in Heaven. It signifies they had once been angels who had committed suicide in order to live within the Sphere. Bearers of the cicatrix are unwelcome and considered outcasts by most angels.

Clan – A Dahhak family. Some of the larger ones number in the millions.

Council of Twelve – The leading organization of the Dominion. It consists of one leader from each of the thirteen nations of demons, minus the Overseers. They are seen by no one other than the Overseers and their battalion of envoys.

Critical Action Message – An important message sent via radio to angel officers by the higher ranks.

Cytusa – Gorgon. Member of Footie platoon.

Dahhak – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. They look very much like winged humans, but taller and thinner. They have dark, angular features and their wings consist of a thin membrane stretched between long bones. The most common demon in the Cibola area.

Daityas – An arch-demon race. One of twelve council seats. Giants with long, adroit fingers. Can breathe underwater and are impervious to any temperature change. Very skilled in the way of mechanics and machinery.

Dance of Libation – A rite of Molochism. A game that is performed between two to six players in which the winner is declared to be in Moloch's favor. The losers are sacrificed.

Dave – Human. One of the five, from Alaska.

Decretal, the – The bible of Molochism.

Denude – A process in which a slave, often a human, is drained of all personality and free will. Permanent.

Derkea – Angel. Seraph.

Dominion – The Demon army. A conglomeration of thirteen nations of demons, allied to make war on Heaven.

Dreg – A Shishi. Arms Officer of a Footie platoon in the Dominion military.

Drone – A remotely controlled machine that usually flies and has a military purpose. Some are armed, others are used for surveillance. Usually very small.

Ether Pool – An ocean of nothing that surrounds all worlds outside of the Sphere. To the naked eye, it appears like a blue gas. It ebbs and flows like water. The flow of time becomes erratic the closer one gets to the pool.

Eyre – A Sedim.

Fall, the – The day of attack on Heaven by the Dominion.

Fheda of the twelfth age – A celebrated Dahhak from long ago. Had over 5,000 wins in the Dance of Libation.

Flamen – A rank of the Dominion, consisting of members of various races. Flamen act as the “police” of the Dominion, and are in charge of interrogating both angel prisoners and those of the Dominion who have broken certain laws. One branch of the Flamen is the scientific branch, in charge of disseminating angel technology. Another is the Catechist.

Footie – A member of a conscript platoon.

Foray – A flying machine of war. Designed and used by the angels.

Frish – An Angel. A female Power.

Gadfly – A beast of the Overseer world. Largest living creature that can take flight.

Gaeb – A Cherub. Worked in the very bottom floor of the Athenaeum.

Geyrun – An arch-demon race. Similar to the Overseers, but not as large and without the pleasure nodes. Once an important power, but their world was defeated long ago by the Overseers and they were enslaved. Often work as handlers or assistants. A few have become military commanders.

Gollop – A mighty serpent of Dahhak lore who tried to eat eternity. Was stopped by Moloch.

Gorgon – A demon race of flightless, hairless humanoid creatures, usually around five and a half feet tall. Their most distinguishing characteristic are the long strands of parasitic worms that take residence in their brain and erupt from the top of their skull like hair.

Gramm – Human. One of the five, from Australia.

Handlers – Demons in charge of wrangling the large animal creatures of the Overseer world. Can be of any demon species.

Hashmallim – An angel caste. Usually appear to be older winged humans. Leaders of the second Choir. They are single souls split into two forms with independent will. Harming one of the halves injures both. If one dies, they both do.

Hekka – A Dahhak soldier, member of the Tempest Dahhak squadron.

Hitomi – Human. One of the five, from Japan.

Humberto - a human from Rico's hometown.

Indigo – Human. One of the five. Arrives with complete amnesia.

Insurgents – Remaining hidden pockets of the angel army that still do battle with the occupying forces of the Dominion.

Iopol – Angel. A male power.

Ivan – Human male from Croatia.

Jessica – Dave's mother.

Jhunayn, Spire of – A shrine of worship for the angels. Located within Cibola.

Jullishia - Angel. An engineer promoted to Power after the Fall.

Ko – Geyrun. Personal Assistant to the Overseer in command of the Main Gate sector.

Kostchtchie – Demon race. One of twelve council seats. Short, hideous, frog-like demons with wings. Have the ability to crawl upon walls and ceilings with their thin, long fingers. Extremely intelligent. Often find work as surgeons or Flamen.

Leefa – Angel. A female Power.

Levi – Angel. An engineer promoted to Power after the Fall.

Libation – A rite of Molochism that determines how vehement one's faith is.

Lothe – Dahhak. Grande-commander in the Dominion military.

Manuel - A human from Rico's hometown.

Mari – A human from Japan. Hitomi's friend.

Marid – A race of demons. One of twelve council seats. Shapeshifters. Their natural form is an all black humanoid with no legs but can fly. No wings. Were once the most powerful of all demons.

Marija – Female human from Croatia.

Maternity Camps – Large tracts of land, sometimes under a tent, set up so Sedim females may receive medical attention in the birthing process.

Mayra - A human from Rico's hometown. Twin sister of Paco.

Mites – A demon race. Small, like winged rats, but intelligent. Very common. They attack in deadly swarms.

Moloch – The spiritual leader and god of Molochism.

Molochism – A demon religion steeped in ceremony and sacrifice. Many followers, mostly Dahhak.

Mouth of the Tower – The light at the very top of the Tower. Opens and closes with no apparent purpose.

Nemat – An arch-demon race. Rare. Immense, worm-like creatures that need constant nourishment from the blood and fluids of other species in order to survive. Often become Rectors in the temples of Moloch.

Nidhogg – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Long, winged snakes with powerful forward arms.

Nigel – Hitomi's long-distance boyfriend from London.

Oblation – see “temple oblation.”

Ophanim – An angel caste. Third in the total hierarchy, bottom of the first Choir. Said to have a strange appearance, a giant wheel covered with eyes. Personal attendants of the Creator's will. Rarely seen by even other angels.

Overseer – An arch-demon race. Huge, red horned beings that tend to be morbidly obese. They stand at about thirty feet tall. Their nation opted out of a seat on the council in exchange for being in charge of the military, which would allow all Overseers to remain equal with each other. They are all male except for the Queen, who remains on their homeworld.

Paco – A human from Rico's hometown. Twin brother of Mayra.

Padre Montamos - A human from Rico's hometown. A Catholic priest.

Pazuzu – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Have long, curved tails like that of a scorpion or manta ray. Winged. They have black skin and are pestilence incarnate.

Pendant – One half of a Hashmallim pair.

Periscepter – One of twelve or thirteen fabled weapons that produce True Light. They are devastating to demons, but only some, usually humans, can wield the weapons longer than a moment.

Plehka – Dahhak. Well known for his superior skill at the Dance of Libation with seventy-six wins.

Pneumatic Crab – A gargantuan lobster-like creature made from energy. Non-intelligent. It lives within the ether and often rests upon the shores of random worlds. They are attracted to beacon antennas.

Polsh – An Angel. A male engineer.

Pooljab – Dahhak. Grande Commander in the Dominion forces.

Powers – An angel caste. The angel military. Sixth in hierarchical order, bottom of the second Choir. Consists of members of the lower angel and archangel castes who have joined the angel military. Both common angels and archangels may become officers, but only archangels may become some of the higher ranks.

Prelate – The second highest rank in the church of Molochism. Second only to the Arch-Rector.

Pri – The great journey of personal betterment that all Molochites follow. An unattainable goal that is represented by only Moloch himself.

Principalities – An angel caste. Head of the third Choir. Principalities deal directly with human issues within Heaven. They report directly to the Virtues.

Propylaeum – The first beacon.

Qulp – A young Geyrun boy. A slave. Child of Ko and Booja.

Ravi – A young Dahhak.

Razer – One of the largest and most powerful creatures of war used by the Overseers. Resembles a black, single-eyed porcupine.

Rector – Priests within the Temple of Moloch. Can be of any demon race, but are usually Dahhak or Nemat.

Reeka – Dahhak soldier. Brother of Hekka. Lesser Commander in the Dominion army.

Rico – Human. One of the five, from Mexico.

Scanner – A soldier in the Dominion army equipped with a mechanism that can track and locate life-forms from a great distance.

Scourge – A piece in the Dance of Libation that is controlled by the rector.

Sedim – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Blue skinned and human sized with long, dexterous tails and membrane wings. The males are extremely rare (only one in 1,000,000 pure births are male) and live almost fifty times the length of the females. Females are known for their voracious sexual appetites and have the ability to cross-breed with many other races, though their litters of mongrel children rarely survive. They have an extremely quick gestation period.

Selaphiel – Angel. Seraph.

Seraphim – An angel caste. The highest ranking angel, and the first angels ever created. They are the leaders of the angel race, and they are the defenders of the Creator. By far the most powerful angels. It is said their true appearance is so bright, they can not be beheld by even the Cherubim. Their numbers are unknown. Some say as few as four while others say they number in the millions.

Sett – See Undercity

Shishi – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Lithe creatures about four feet high. Have wings and the ability to fly long distances very quickly. They have a human form, but have cat-like features including spots or stripes. Often find work as slavers.

Shoal – A sub-demon race. Small, weasel-like creatures with a low, primitive intelligence. They prefer to live in the wilderness, away from other demons. The blood of the males is caustic.

Shofar – One of two mighty horns that stand in towers in front of the main gate of Cibola.

Sphere, the – A large glass dome located within the Athenaeum. Contained inside are the universes of the human worlds.

Spigger – A beast of the Overseer world. A round, fleshy, kraken-like creature with long tentacles.

Stiletto – A rifle-like weapon used by the angels.

Sub-Demon – Any of the various races of demons who usually hold only minor intelligence.

Tamael – A Power. Military commander of a group of insurgents hiding in a cave system.

Teast – A giant praying-mantis-like monster. From the Overseer world.

Tempest Dahhak – Elite Dahhak soldiers with special skills and training.

Temple Oblation – Sacrament that must be completed within the confines of a Temple of Moloch. Consists of strapping a victim to a device and draining them of all their fluids.

Tix – Shishi. Member of a Footie platoon.

Tree of Eternity – Largest living entity in existence. All life can be traced to the tree. First life ever born with True Light.

Truet – Angel. Seraph.

Trukkac – A Dahhak. The Dahhak representative on the council of twelve.

True Light – Matter that is used to create life. The source of it is unknown, but it is deadly to demons who can not exist in the same space as True Light.

Ulnar – A Geyrun. A Surgeon's assistant.

Undercity, Understreets, the – The home of the humans underneath the city of Cibola.

Ungeo G'sslom – Charun. Mid-Commander in the Dominion military.

Unraveler, the – A mysterious being that is neither human, angel, nor demon. It lives and travels in a time stream different than everything else, and those who cross paths with him will perceive him to be walking and talking backward at a high speed.

Uli - Angel. An engineer promoted to Power after the Fall.

Uzkiev – A Nidhogg. Envoy to the Council.

Verdan – An angel. A male Power.

Vila – A wolf.

Virtues – A mysterious angel caste, fifth in the total hierarchy. They are charged with maintaining the heavenly aspects of the Sphere, and they are given the special power of being able to travel within the Sphere's worlds. Look much like other angels, but their whole bodies seem blurred, almost transparent. They can also appear as young, winged children. They were created the same time as the Sphere.

Vuriel – An angel.

Wuj – A demon race. One of twelve council seats. Basically a large floating dragon head. Have the ability to see into minds and control lesser creatures through suggestion. Very ineffective in battle against a large number of opponents, but almost imperishable one-on-one. Often find work under the Catechist or as jailers. Other demons are extremely afraid of them.

Xac – A Principality.

Yehppael – A Power. Second in charge of the group led by Tamael.

Yvrex G'ssod – Charun. Grande Commander in the Dominion military.

Zane - Angel. An engineer promoted to Power after the Fall.

Zev – The King of Wolves.

Zydkiel – Angel. Cherub.