Pdf version available: SORScene_Valafar
Lucius Industrial Estate
Saleos crawled back to the central, largest warehouse, always looking over his shoulder. Are they gone? Or are they following? Inside, demons peered towards Saleos, his movements jerky. Whispers travelled fast. Thirteen had left with Saleos, none returned. Saleos couldn’t filter out their judgemental eyes. I’m dead! I’m dead!
He reached the far end of the warehouse, a throne forged from scrap pilfered from the junkyard, melted together, hidden from the low-level lighting. A silver haired Fallen Angel sat on the throne, legs crossed, his black wings open, his shattered halo shining, the left fragment lower than the right. If an Angel’s soul had the grace and elegance of a white Pegasus, a Fallen Angel’s soul would have the striking ferocity of a black Pegasus.
Shamsiel rested on his lap. Forged from an almandine-hued metal, it had a garnet-coloured, metallic inner blade. It was warm to touch.
‘We have a problem, Valafar! Zera’s near,’ Saleos screamed.
‘They’re not following you,’ Valafar interrupted.
‘I warned them off,’ Valafar explained, standing up.
Shamsiel’s runes, שאה לש םיהולא, glowed crimson ruby, captivating Saleos. ‘This is also a Watcher Blade, Saleos.’ Valafar held the blade vertically, displaying its runes fully. ‘The blades are siblings, they feel each other out. Think of it as an ancient divine Wi-Fi connection.’
Valafar stood up, walked towards Saleos, sensing Shamsiel’s escalating fury. Don’t worry. I’m on it. Valafar stared through Saleos. There’s no depth to Saleos’s motivations or character. He questions nothing and messes up orders.
Saleos was unnerved. What’s he doing?
Valafar’s eyes flared up. Before Saleos could react, Valafar backhanded him across the face. The connection was pure, sweet; it reverberated throughout the warehouse. The demons stopped everything, turning their attention to Valafar. Their master was exerting his dominance.
Saleos was knocked off balance, his face throbbed with pain. Valafar planted his foot into Saleos’s stomach and his body scrunched up – the crunch of the kick knocked him hard onto his back. Saleos coughed, spitting up blood, struggling to recover. Valafar pointed Shamsiel’s tip between Saleos’s eyes and firmly pressed his foot down on his chest. Hellfire embers gathered on Shamsiel’s surface, Saleos’s skin starting to singe.
‘You idiot!’ Valafar screamed, ‘You and thirteen demons don’t stand a chance against one Watcher Blader, let alone two! What did you do to make Arakiel’s blader that angry? I could taste its power from here!’
Saleos’s response was ready, but Valafar pressed his foot down further into Saleos’s rib cage. You don’t get to talk anymore! ‘Your desire to kill Zera blew our cover. I’m the only one here capable of that! I’m the only one who deserves to!’
The hellfire on Shamsiel’s surface intensified. Saleos screamed, his skin blistering. Only Valafar’s restraint was preventing Saleos’s incineration. The temperature inside Shamsiel is escalating. It wants this kill! It craves it! ‘You know how easy it would be, right? Shamsiel would devour you in a breath, your ashes would pollute the air and everyone would breathe them in. But, you’re so insignificant that your ashes wouldn’t even cause anyone to cough.’
Valafar knew killing Saleos would be cathartic, he turned Shamsiel in a corkscrew fashion, letting Saleos’s eyes track each of its embers shedding of its surface. I’m afraid I’ve got to disappoint you, Shamsiel. We’ve got bigger pyres to ignite. He withdrew Shamsiel, the hellfire around its surface dissipating into the ether.
He released his foot. ‘It’s fortunate Beelzebub values your enterprise and cunning. If you do that again, wash your neck! I don’t want Shamsiel to get dirty from your greasy neck.’ He showed Saleos Shamsiel’s sharp edge.
The back of Saleos’s neck tingled; he instinctively grabbed it. One more mistake and I’m on the chopping block. He audibly gulped, he beat his black wings frantically, flying towards the door, barging through demons as he went.
Valafar returned to his throne. He turned around, seeing the demons shrinking in their own skin. Look at how afraid they are. They know their place. Valafar snapped his fingers, the click reaching every corner of the warehouse. All the demons resumed what they were doing. I like this level of control. But I’m ready for more.
He took position on his throne again, mulling over what happens next. Zera knows I’m here. Arakiel makes things complicated, but not as complicated as things are between Zera and me. Is it time we meet again, Zera?
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