That Which Purifies

Tiam wanted to collapse–to give into the constant beckon of unconsciousness and enter the only place they would feel safe. No, wait, they were in another safe place already. Tiam leant on Raphael and looked him in the eye. Something about that brilliant blue gaze made Tiam want to blurt out everything that happened, but they had already said what was needed.

'You may rest, if you're feeling weak.' Raphael looped an arm around Tiam's side.

They shook their head and found their sword again. Pointing their weapon at the beast felt like pointing the blade at themself. Leo's body was visible now, and it looked like some horrid cocoon ready to release one big evil butterfly.

That angel, Selaphiel, danced rings around the beast. She had it confused and annoyed, but it was plain on her face that she didn't know how to damage it. She darted in front of them and said, 'friends, this is like the Dragon all over again. It even smells like the rot Lucifer.' Her voice was so smooth, Tiam almost looked for the river it flowed from.

'They pumped something into Leo,' Tiam said. 'Some gross liquid that made the room stink.'

'Could be the blood of… no.' Raphael pushed his cap lower. Tiam nudged him, prompting him to speak again. 'But it could be the blood of Lucifer's dragon form.'

'And that's running through Leo's body, now?' Tiam's legs buckled and their eyes swelled to cry again. 'That would be torture. Isn't there a way to purify him?'

'No.' Selaphiel turned away as if to hide her face. Did she know more?

'Take this, scum of evil!' Once again, debris was thrown from somewhere below as Jun of the Massacre shouted and took the beast's attention.

'Oh, it's the murder guy.' Raphael pursed his lips and nodded. He sighed before saying, 'there would be one way to purify him.' Lifting a hand to the Dragon, Raphael grimaced as it dropped fire upon where Jun was amongst the rubble. 'The Holy Water of Michael would purify him, but that guy would sooner fight one of his own than come to the colosseum.'

'Then take me to him and I will fight him,' Tiam growled. 'I would fight the One Himself before I give up on my friend.'

Both archangels stared in shock at them, neither forming a word on their lips aside from an o. Tiam looked to one and then the other, silently demanding that they take up the request. No god, nor being of Heaven or Hell was stopping them from saving Leo.

'Unless you have another way, tell me where I find Michael.' Tiam gently clawed Raphael's shirt. In response, the archangel gingerly cupped their cheek, wiping the tears, both dried and still running.

'God once said he would wipe the tears of His children in the afterlife, so why am I wiping yours?' Raphael's eyes fell under the shadow of his brow, making him look dark and brooding for a moment.

'You are the one who guides,' Selaphiel said with a tilted and curious smile. 'I'll keep the dragon distracted with this murder fellow. All you need is a drop of Michael's holy water.' She danced back a few steps and formed wings from blades made of opal. In a flash of light, she came face to face with the Dragon again.

'Please,' Tiam pulled Raphael closer, and probably a little too close, at that. The angel sighed, then twirled his fingers in the air. Something about his posture shrunk.

'Don't be too long. Call to me through your Key and I'll bring you back.' Lightning coiled around Tiam, but something plagued them.

'Why aren't you coming?'

'Because the archangels aren't as harmonious as we advertise ourselves.'

The electricity lifted and fell, leaving Tiam in a completely different space. It was suddenly quiet, and smelled of nothing but a fresh open field. That was unusual, because Tiam had landed in an office setting. Books lined the walls with dull black spines and decorated with Roman numerals. Tiam found the last book seemed to be MMMDCXXVI. A chandelier swung gently and soundlessly above their head, splaying light across the room that refracted from the few silver ornaments, which included an enormous sword as big as Tiam. The whole room was gigantic, making Tiam feel like a child again.

'Raphael. Can I hel–oh.' At the back of the room sat a tall man at a desk. He wore a tailored vest and silver cuffed dress shirt beneath. The man's hair was combed back and he peered through thin black glasses. All in all, he looked like a run of the mill businessman from well before Tiam's time on Earth–more than twice Tiam's height. He scratched something out on the paperwork in front of him and then placed his fountain pen in a breast pocket with ease and practiced precision. Standing up, the man adjusted a few things on his desk before approaching Tiam. It seemed the organisation of his workspace was far more important than the person in front of him.

'Archangel Michael?' Tiam felt all that fire and anger leave them all of a sudden, now realising the magnitude of demanding to meet the most prominent–and probably most powerful–archangel in Heaven.

'Indeed. You are?'

'Tiam.' They suddenly wanted to run. Maybe they could just yell and cry at Leo's feet and the power of friendship would pull him through. The angel opened his lips, but Tiam blurted out, 'I've come to ask for some holy water.'