Mireline flicked her hand to the side, then flexed her fingers. Jacques howled in agony. His limbs snapped. Bones broke. His body contorted. He crumpled to the ground, becoming a mess of blood and fragmented bones. I’d been too young to remember. Now it made sense why Mireline was here. And why she’d always been feared.
Madame Mireline was a Limb Bender.
I watched on with rapt fascination. With every snap of her hand, every wave of her fingers, Jacques wailed out with bloodcurdling anguish, begging for mercy he wouldn’t find. He’d fallen to the ground, close to his signet ring, which lay between him and Marcèllian. Marcèllian had closed his eyes and placed a set of his wings over his ears so he wouldn’t have to see or hear Jacques.
Coward.
I watched on with everyone else as Mireline broke the angel bone by bone until he was only a pool of blood and a pile of bones and torn feathers. When she was done, she pulled back.
“A murderer will not be given way to enter the Ellelights.”
Another angel surfaced from seemingly nowhere. They looked like a Higherrank.
I counted seven wing pairs. A Seraphim.
I frowned, confused.
Why was a Seraphim here?
The seraph hovered in perfect stillness next to Mireline. Without a word, she lifted her hand and began siphoning Jacques’s spirit out of his body. I jerked up, back stiffening. I leaned forward, struck with awe. This Seraphim was a Spirit Filer, though I couldn’t guess what element her ethèr was made of. If I were a betting male, I’d guess she was like Nahomie. A Seraphim of fire.
I’d never seen a Spirit Filer with my own eyes, but the Empyrean was full of them. They helped angelic spirits cross from this realm to the Ellelights once their angelic bodies had deceased. That was the extent of my knowledge, but it was fascinating to watch in real time. The Seraphim lifted her palms, an ethereal light glowing in them.
“To the Infinite who is, was, and will always be, I condemn this spirit. For all things, there is a season, a time for all activities in the realms beyond Pasaille. A time arrives for us to be born, and also a time to die. You, Infinite, have made all things beautiful in their time, and placed the Ellelights in the hearts of your angels. But this spawn has turned away from your goodness, going astray to what is evil.”
Jacques whimpered at the prayer, sobbing under the moonlight. My ears twitched. I was positively elated. I’d never heard this prayer before. Resting my elbows on my knees, I listened close.
“Oh Infinite, let us be wise as the stars, and be taught to number our dawns, to never forget the vapor that is life, and the brevity of our time in the realms. May we remember our dawns are mere sighs, breaths taken in one moment, and the endinggone in the next. All of us angels are shadows, and our coming and goings come to swift endings, though we live for an Age past another Age. Therefore, every wing of hope we contain lies with you, forever at your feet.”
The Seraphim’s hands twitched. Ethereal light grew. The hair on my arms stood on end. There was supernatural magic afoot, and I shuddered as it filled the humid evening air.
“When we are in our darkest valleys, fear will never move us, because there you are, always beside us. Your scepter and crown protect, comfort, and guide us all. Infinite, we have full confidence your goodness and unfailing love will never stop pursuing us, each and every dawn of our lives, through the Ages. And we will forever be privileged to live in your house, all through the Ellelights, always and forever. All, except for Jacques Augustèn Beauradèl. I call him condemned. I strip him of his eternal rights. I judge him unworthy to enter your Ellelights. Arèmen.”
“Arèmen!”
Mireline chorused, and the angelic audience followed suit.
“Arèmen,” I whispered, waiting for the seraph to exact justice.
The Seraphim coaxed Jacques’ spirit out of his body, luring the golden silhouette of his physique from his flesh. Once his spirit was detached from his body, the Seraphim leaned forward, took hold of Jacques’ spirit and...
“NO.”
Marcèllian screamed out as he watched the Seraphim squeeze her hand into a tight fist, crushing the spirit of Jacques in her palm until the spirit was no more, vanishing into thin air.
“What have you done?” Marcèllian said in a broken whisper.
Above, Yvette clamped her hands over her mouth and rushed back inside, slamming the doors behind her.
“You’ve killed him,” Marcèllian wheezed. “He’s... gone. For... for all eternity.”
Mireline looked at him without pity.
“Blood for blood, Marcèllian. He can join the Fallen, to which he now belongs.”
Mireline turned away without another word. The Seraphim followed in tow, gliding past the empty shell of Jacques’s body as if it were invisible. Without a word, in one accord, every angel in attendance floated into the air, looked at Marcèllian with unforgiving glances, and flew away in different directions.
Marcèllian fell to his knees in shock. One female remained. I hadn’t seen her until now. She bent over herself, screaming until her throat was raw. I recognized her hair. Its shape. The lilt of her screams as she crawled to Jacques’ body and fell over it.
