Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“They do shine.” I reach for his hand. “Very prettily.”
“That they do.” He squeezes my hand and releases it. “Any news?”
My stomach sinks. “Cassius says he’s trying, but we only have silence.”
“Silence,” Bannik repeats, “is not always the worst. I think I would take silence to noise any day. Noise means chaos, silence means peace.” He tilts his head as if thinking, then shrugs. “To some people, I guess.”
“Peace,” I repeat the word. “I’m going to trust in the peace.”
A star shoots across the sky. Slowly, Bannik sets down his hot chocolate and raises both hands to the sky, palms up. “Rest. Rest and shine.”
“What just happened?” I ask as Bannik’s fingertips glisten with stardust.
He doesn’t look at me; he looks up toward the sky and smiles. “A star chose.”
“Chose what?”
“To fall.” He nods. “As they do. It is always their choice, the journey they want to take, and this one saw theirs.”
“How do we know the journey?”
“We don’t. We only trust that the end makes it worth it.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s that time.”
“I know.” He sits.
“Tell me.” I grab my little purple notebook and open it up, resting my pen against the worn paper. “How many years?”
“As of right now. Horus has been in the Abyss… over a hundred and twenty-seven years, three months, one day, seventeen minutes, four seconds.”
I write it down and tuck it close to my heart, then I watch the stars until I fall asleep.
I don’t have to ask who brings me to bed; it’s always the one that watches me.
It’s always Bannik.
What was once a curse became a savior.
A fallen star left by the sky itself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
四面楚歌
shimensoka
“Surrounded by enemies.”
~Japanese proverb
Horus
“Give me the bead!” she screams.
I laugh. “Give me her tails.”
“You worthless piece of shit!” Apophis kicks the ground with her feet and stomps off.
Again.
Again.
Again.
“Don’t you tire of this?” Sariel asks in a bored tone. I half expect him to yawn. Angels and their dry sense of humor. At least I have him.
“No.” I shrug. “What else should I do with my time? I have friends protecting her, and I made a promise to return. I’ll bring her tails back, and I’ll bring her bead too.”
Sariel crosses his arms. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. In our time, we’re now closing in on two hundred years, and you’ve never wavered.”
“Why would I?”
“Do you know my father?” he suddenly asks.
I frown. “Um, the Creator, I think? You are a fallen archangel, after all.”
He nods. “Do you ever wonder why a fallen archangel wasn’t punished the same as others?”
Now that he mentions it. “I just assumed you were too high up in the heavens.”
“Gods.” He shrugs. “Sure, the Creator made a race of angels but so did the gods… mine was from the line of Ra. Certain angels have certain jobs, the ones that come from gods watch like the all-seeing Eye of Ra or some might say Horus.” He smiles. “The rest of the angels, the warriors, they are from the Creator.”
I’m stunned stupid. “How did I not know this?”
“It’s not common knowledge. Besides, what would it help? We are all the same species, but some of us have a little extra. The sons of gods were promised that if their immortality ever failed, they would be given one more chance. I took mine in saving my son after my fall, and somehow I ended up here, taking one more chance to save the fallen. I think maybe the Creator thinks I’m even, so I’ll try one more time.”
“Try what?” I jump to my feet.
Sariel smiles and walks toward the mouth of the cave. “Kings.” His whisper is both loud and soft.
Four of the fallen kings of Heaven walk forward. Each of them in chains tied to the very riverbed they’re bound to. All of them have black eyes, orange hair and are wearing golden armor that shines so bright it’s hard to look at them.
“Angel.” Ashtaroth raises his red-tipped sword. “You dare call on us?”
Sariel smiles. “His prison sentence is another hundred and fifty years at least. What if I offer to take it?”
The kings are silent, Mazzaroth, the zodiac fallen angel, steps forward. “We don’t allow trades in the Abyss unless the Creator allows it. And he has been absent for centuries.”
“And have you called for him?” Sariel asks arms spread.
“We don’t dare!” Arcturus says, the man known for being a beast, both angel and demon, both fallen and pure. His skin is that of a bear, his wings tattered at his sides while his bald head shines with gold reflecting the heavens. “We do not call him down to the darkness.”
Sariel smiles. “Then would it be fair for darkness and night to call light?”
Ashtaroth frowns. “You dare trick us?”
“He has the bead. He’s god of the sky and god of the night. Could he not, just once, call down the Creator? And ask to be set free?”