Foster gripped Remi just above the ankle, his hand glowing white as he wrenched her leg to the side and rolled in the opposite direction.Remi hit the ground, catching herself on her forearms and pushing back up, murderous intent clear on her face. Cami dashed forward, a curved blade glowing a vibrant green in her fist, Sachi close on her heels with a barbed whip in his hands.
“Relent, you idiotic child,” Cami demanded, launching herself up and angling her blade towards Foster’s throat. He rolled further, out of her way, and she landed in a crouch where he had lain moments before.
“I heard legends about you all,” Foster sneered, springing back up and jumping out of range of Sachi’s whip. “I find myself disappointed by the reality.”
Rag dispelled his mace and summoned his preferred weapon, a large war-hammer, gripping the haft with two hands and swinging it downward to rattle the earth. “You seem better suited to insulting us than fighting.”
Foster laughed. “From what I have seen so far, you seem best suited at inflating your egos.”
“We earned our accolades intruebattles,” Camiel hissed, summoning another blade and gripping the pair of scimitars tightly as if to avoid throttling the demigod. “We were ancient before you were a thought, boy.”
“Well, that explains why your ideas and methods are so outdated,” Foster said, extending his hand and manifesting his sword in his palm. “But I am happy to provide physical proof that I now surpass you, since you seem to need it.”
Bal rose from his crouch beside Lucifer, summoning his spear and using it as a staff to steady himself. “You’re the one with the over-inflated ego, kid.”
Foster smirked. “Then please, attempt to make me eat my words.”
They were on him in an instant. Luce struggled to follow the movements as his Fallen began the deadly dance of war with his son, partly because he was too afraid of the outcome to watch. He had expected they would need to faceGabriel, not Foster.
Where Remi struck and was parried away, Cami ducked low to follow her attack. When Foster leapt back to avoid Rag’s hammer, there was Sachi attempting to snare him with his whip.As Foster struck out at Judas in a clash of swords, Bal jabbed from behind with his spear.
They were a well-oiled and fluid machine, working in tandem as they had long trained to do. Souls built for war and justice, who had chosen to follow him into oblivion... and now they were tasked with putting a stop to his own son’s reign of chaos. It was a bitter irony.
Across the clearing, abandoned by the others as they ran to fight, Mags watched with a look of desperation on her face. Luce averted his gaze. He couldn’t simply sit here and watch, not when he could already see the Fallen were waning in the face of his son’s unnaturally enhanced strength.
Closing his eyes, Luce reached down into his reserves of power, preparing to rejoin this fight. He had used too much power already, fighting Michael and then Foster in such quick succession, but he had to do something. A horrified shout from Mags had his eyes flying open, and Luce saw what she had seen, moments too late to stop what was coming.
Foster raised his broadsword over his head, preparing to strike Cami where she had been knocked to the ground before him—and then an arrow pierced his exposed chest. Foster gasped, staggering backwards, bringing his hand to the shaft of the arrow protruding from his sternum. With wide, alarmed eyes, he looked past his fallen target to find Glory, kneeling on the ground with her face and chest decorated in swirls of pink and her gleaming bow still held in its firing position.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, bowing her head. “You have to stop.”
Foster gripped the arrow firmly, expression shuttering as he quickly locked the shock and pain behind his glass wall. He breathed in, paused, then ripped the arrow from his own chest with little more than a wince. Silver blood spurted from thewound, pulsing down his chest with each rapid beat of his heart. It slowed to a trickle, then stopped.
“That was a mistake,” he said, eyes gleaming with fury. “You will live just long enough to regret what you have done.”
Foster lifted both hands high above his head, the pressure increasing tenfold and bringing the Fallen to their knees. A sound like shrieking wind ripped the air, bringing with it a biting chill, and Lucifer’s chest tightened when he realized it was his son screaming.
“Meynzun,” he croaked, and fell to his own knees.
“Lus’ior,” Michael croaked out the name as he crawled to his side, reaching for Luce’s outstretched hand and clasping it as tightly as his shattered bones would allow.
Luce gripped his hand back tightly, closing his eyes as hot trails spilled over his cheeks. “My son is gone somewhere I cannot reach, Mikha’el.”
“I am done!” Foster bellowed, the wind whipping harder and colder, leavingthem shivering from more than just fear. Glowing light obscured hisform in a sort of armor. The effect was a blinding halo of white that was like trying to peer through a frosted window. “The time for games has ended! If you stand in my path, I will cut you down like bugs to be squashed beneath my heel!”
The wind swelled, raging around the clearing. Foster brought his hands down slowly, cradling them to his chest as a massive ball of energy built between them. Remi cursed her waning strength, not sure if it was due to Foster’s influence, or if her borrowed magic had somehow grown weaker through lack of use. But she struggled up from the ground, determined to bring the boy down before he unleashed the power.
Her prayer was answered.
As if someone had hit a pause button on the world, all the wind died out and an eerie, unnatural stillness settled. Therewas the briefest of pauses, and then a thunderous boom rocked the clearing, knocking Foster backwards under the deluge of power that accompanied it. Lucifer cringed away, and Michael gripped his hand tighter. He knew what was coming.
Even if he hadn’t been able to identify the traces of that unearthly power, every nerve in his body was standing on high alert. He knew only two people with the magic ability and flair for the dramatic to make such a grand entrance, and one of them was crouching at his side.
Jehovah was finally showing himself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
So many poems have written about the angels of lore,Luce thought bitterly, as the heavenly host approached.So many ballads composed likening them to glorious golden beings of light and warmth, and they are all wrong.
