The Thrones sang at a pitch that was painful to the ears. “The shadowborn are known deceivers,” they said at last. “This claim is nothing more than rumor. A dangerous one at that.”
“What if we got proof?” you said, speaking up when you shouldn’t.
“Traveling to the under realms is quite a risk, sunborn. We couldn’t advise the last of your kind to make such a perilous trip.”
Damn them. In pointing out the danger, they’d given you the idea. What better way to dispose of a troublesome revolutionary than to send him on a doomed mission to the under realms?
“Orcus knows the under realms, don’t you?” You glanced over at him.
“I know them well,” Orcus said, hardly hiding his alacrity.
“If we brought you proof of Azrael’s deception, would you side with us?” you asked the conniving angels. “Would you dismantle the Imperium and dethrone the Angel of Death?”
“We’d need more than second-hand accusations. We’d need Thirran’s soul restored to the holy realms where it belongs.”
Typical of the Thrones, they’d given you an impossible feat, and when you failed—which you surely would—they’d place the blame for their inaction squarely on your shoulders.
“The Angel of Death is corrupt,” I announced, taking their attention away from you, “and everything he touches is similarly tainted. He is the antithesis of the tenants laid out in the Treaty of the Realms and codified in angelic law. The Thrones pride themselves on justice and virtue, yet you allow a known proditor to have vast command over the earthen realm.”
“These matters are beyond your jurisdiction, bloodborn,” they said.
“No, that is what you say instead of giving us an answer. Like barring us from learning your angelic tongue so that we cannot debate your rulings. You seek to keep us ignorant so that we do not question your tyranny. You sow division among our tribes so that we will not unite and conquer.”
Lena gave me a silent nod of approval. I sounded more like her than I cared to admit.
“We have heard your complaints,” the Thrones said, ignoring my accusations, “and we have made our ruling. Bring us the angel Thirran’s soul, and we will consider your request. Until then, the Angel of Death remains instated.”
Their angelic spirits slowly faded until they’d disappeared entirely, leaving the council hall dimmer than before. I sought you out and found you deep in conversation with Orcus, already plotting your journey to the under realms. Damn the Thrones for tasking you with an impossible quest and damn these demons for going along with it. Damn them all.
“It’s a terrible idea,” Lena said, suddenly at my side.
“Yes, I know. We all know that. But why do you care?”
“If Vincent doesn’t return, who will lead this revolution?” Her glacial eyes were wide, though innocent she was not. Had this been her scheme all along? Had she and Orcus plotted this turn of events as a convenient way to dispose of you?
“If Vincent doesn’t return, I will hold you personally responsible,” I said.
“But what if neither of you return?”
“You’re assuming I’ll go with him.”
She smiled, calling my bluff. “Who better to protect the Parousia than the keeper of his soul?”
“This is a fool’s errand,”I said to you when we were alone again in our rooms. My footsteps thundered across the marble floor, back and forth, back and forth, while you only sat serenely in the chair I’d come to think of as your throne and stroked your cat.
“Orcus knows the way. He told me we won’t encounter any trouble.”
“Then he’s lying to you,” I said. You were being reckless as ever to trust a known manipulator. “Souls go into the under realms, and they don’t come back. The Thrones have set you up to fail.” And possibly perish in the process.
“I’ll prove them wrong,” you insisted, and I’d never been so irritated by your arrogance before.
“What makes you think so?”
“Orcus said Bastet will want to receive me. That she’ll welcome me into her city of light.”
“You don’t get an angel’s soul for nothing, Vincent.”
“Then we’ll negotiate.”
