Gavriel
I’d thought the disaster I’d been dealing with on Earth was the worst one I’d face that week. Possibly that year. But what we discovered moments after we entered Sanctuary was beyond the scope of my nightmares. Beyond comprehension.
The corridors outside the Flight Hall stood empty. Silent, in a way that made my feathers stand on end. But in my mind, thevoices of every soul in Sanctuary were shouting. Screaming. The only one I was listening for, I couldn’t separate from the rest.
The cacophony was too much to bear, almost sending me crashing to the marble floor at one point, and both Mikhail and I had to shut off that part of our minds or risk going mad. We flew down abandoned hallways to find where they all were, with no idea of what was happening.
With a nod, Mikhail detoured to his Maker Hall to seek out Feather while I sped to the Great Gate, assuming that was where the trouble lay. That much screaming had to be because the gate was falling, the Abyss rushing in. But the stench in the air, which hung like a fetid curtain of ash in every hallway—except the area near the Great Gate—made me believe that perhaps, the Abyss was already inside.
There was no one singing at the gate, but it was apparent someone had been taking care of that task. It glowed brighter than it had in a long while, save the weeks when Feather had been gone. The gate seemed oddly peaceful, as if the shadows that I knew were amassed on the other side were resting. Perhaps even withdrawing.
I took a breath and sang a few notes in my rusty, ruined voice, and was startled to see figures that normally paid no attention to those of us in Sanctuary stopping to listen. Nodding, beckoning for me to go on when I stopped in surprise.
Then Mikhail was next to me, and I turned away. “Someone’s been living in my Hall,” he said, holding up a bloodstained cloth in one hand, the sleeping demon cradled to his chest in a pink blanket. “Not Feather. Others. They’ve been hiding in there. The air smells of desperation, fear, and pain. Wherearethey all?” he gritted out. “Where is she?”
I gripped his shoulder, opening my mind again to find the answer, no matter how painful… but we both flinchedsimultaneously when we heard a familiar voice crying out in our minds.
Protect. Rend. Savekillstopno!Feather’s fractured thoughts were louder now, but even more panicked, anguished.
Was she being tortured? I jumped into the air, my Celestial sword in my hand at once. “Mikhail!” Holding a now-squalling child in one arm, he leaped to my side, deftly catching the soul knife I tossed his way. “The Great Assembly Hall.”
In seconds, we were there, though the psychic pain that emanated from the space as we approached was almost crippling, even when I closed my mind off from the constant shrieking. Just as we began descending to enter the Hall, the door flew wide, and two terrified Protectors stumbled out, weeping and supporting each other. They stumbled, still trying to crawl away from the Hall, and I noted the psychic wounds that bled unceasingly into the air around them. They were dying.
What was going on inside?
Help them, I thought to Mikhail, who shook me off.
Feather may need me.
“Keep the baby safe. I’ll take care of your mate. Join me as soon as you can.” He bared his teeth in a snarl, but obeyed, racing to the dying pair with Precious tucked under one arm, while I swooped inside the open doors.
For a moment, I hovered just inside the Hall, taking in the scene. Trying to understand it.
The space was filled to bursting. Every soul in Sanctuary, save Arabella, had to be here, or close to it. And all of them were agitated. On the podium, the most unlikely group was assembled. Guides loomed over the battered and bound forms of Sunny, Hope, and another Protector. I thought the young man was Perception, but he shone with a vague glow that indicated ascension. Sunny glowed even brighter, but she was on the ground.
Tradition stood back, staring at the scene in horror. Or staring at someone. He yelled orders, about stopping a demon.Killingone. But he was looking at, pointing to… a creature, who I thought might be Feather. But she was covered with so much smut, dripping with it, that I couldn’t be certain. The wings were the right size, but dark gray, oily clay encased them as well as her limbs. A few strands of silver hair caught the light, though, and I knew. Something awful had happened, something evil, but it was her.
Valor stood next to her, with Mikhail’s soul knife in his hand.
What in the name of the Singer was he doing touching it? He had no right to it. Only the acting leader of Sanctuary was permitted to touch the blade, unless he’d given explicit permission. WherewasRighteous?
I had no sooner thought the question when a blast of oily, heavy power emanated from the podium, and all the Guides crumpled to the ground. The blast revealed Righteous’s presence, though I knew it hadn’t been him who had created it. He was farther back on the stage, bound to a toppled chair, his arms and legs tied like a captive.
Helpless, he shouted at someone, his tone full of anger. A flood of protectiveness and rage swept through me as I watched Valor rise over him, cursing. Valor’s wings flared out, so for a moment I couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but I was almost certain Valor was attempting to kill the Head Protector.
A snarl covered my face as the knife flashed high and began to descend.
Faster than I could blink, Feather moved to intercept the blow. Suddenly, Valor was facing not Righteous, but Feather, the knife still raised. Descending, toward her breast. She stood with a sad smile barely visible through the smut on her face, her eyelids fluttering shut.
Valor would kill her; his thoughts were wicked and clear and full of shadowed glee. And with the soul knife already in the air, I knew there was no way I could reach her in time to stop it. No one could.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized how empty the world would be in another second. How meaningless it would be to call myself leader of Sanctuary, if she died. How Mikhail would never forgive me for not reaching her in time.
But then a sparkling flash of gray distracted me. And more importantly, Valor. He hesitated, his gaze flying high. Somehow, Precious had slipped free of Mikhail and into the Hall, zipping with her unnatural speed down to the podium. For a second, she hovered right behind Feather.
“Don’t touch my girls!” I heard Mikhail roar behind me, just as the entire room went silent, and everything halted. He stumbled as he passed me, intent on reaching his mate.
Time stopped. Mikhail was frozen by my side. My wings were extended at the beginning of a leap. The Protectors around me, many of whom were crying, were now statues, their tears caught mid-fall on their cheeks.
