Chapter Forty-Eight

Time seemed to slow down to a standstill for Zia. The ambassador could barely comprehend what she was seeing. All she could do was watch as Aeron mercilessly tore into the body of his fallen kin. It didn't feel as if she were watching the beginning of some great battle… no… what she was witnessing was the final embers of a massacre. Poseidon's screams of pain reverberated through her bones, all the way down to the bedrock of her very soul. And—at that moment—she saw herself standing before Hell's gates once again, where the stench of blood reigned supreme, and the sounds of tortured souls filled the air like gunfire on a battlefield. "Now then, tell me, who helped you escape Tartarus?!" Aeron yelled as the false god's left arm flew through the sky.

"Aeron! Dammit! What the hell are you doing?!" Kashif screamed as Poseidon's severed appendage disintegrated into ash. He wasn't sure why, but at that moment, his body moved to protect their so-called enemy. Maybe it was because of Ms. Lombardi's reaction to Aeron's brutality—or perhaps it was due to the fallen Angel's pitiful state—but he just knew that he couldn't let the judge have his way with the man. Before the Cherub had the chance to raise his arm for another swing, Kashif wrapped his strong hands around his comrade's blade.

"Let go, Kashif! I need to do this!" Aeron exclaimed as he attempted to push the bodyguard back, the man grunting with every slight movement. It felt as if he was trying to hold back a tidal wave. It didn't take long before the Cherub's raw strength overwhelmed him, and he was tossed aside into a nearby pillar.

"Kashif!" Elizabeth screeched as she rushed to her partner's side, determined to treat his wounds. However—by the time she arrived—the man's injuries had already completely healed. And when Elizabeth saw that, she swore that she felt her heart stop beating. "If he's regenerating this rapidly, that means Aeron threw him with enough force to kill." Immediately, she turned to reprimand the Templar, but—when their gazes met—she felt a jolt of fear rush down her spine. It was the Angel's eyes that did it. Those cold, unforgiving, merciless dark slits seemed to dig down to the very depths of her soul. It felt as if, for the first time, she was finally getting a glimpse at the genuine Aeron Weber. There was no doubt that the fallen Angel initially came here to rescue them, but there was more to the story. With this, she was certain. "He's… insane," the bodyguard thought, her pupils shaking in horror. She—who had seen and fought monsters, kelpies, sadistic mortals, and a whole manner of ungodly creatures—was trembling at the sight of a lone man. Those eyes told her all she needed to know. They were rumbling with rage, but what scared her the most was how lifeless they looked. They were like the eyes of a bored child, impatiently waiting for the next toy to satiate their curiosity. If she had to put it into words, what he looked like was—

"A Demon," Zia mumbled as she hesitantly inched back from the crazed Angel.

"Poseidon, where do you think you're going? I'm not finished with you yet," Aeron hissed as the man crawled away. However, before he could take even one step towards his beaten adversary, Zia jumped in front of him.

"Stop this, now!" she yelled. She half-expected Aeron to bury her in a wall like he did Kashif. However—to her shock—the Cherub stopped dead in his tracks.

"Why are you protecting that piece of trash?" he started in a menacing tone that could make monsters run for the hills. "That bastard sent wave after wave of kelpies to take us down and caused both you and me an unimaginable amount of grief. Do you think we can let an enemy like that—God's enemy—escape unharmed?" he finished, but before Zia had a chance to respond, a chuckle filled the air. "Did something I say amuse you, cretin?" Aeron asked as he glared daggers at his bloodied kin.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just found that idea humorous. After all," Poseidon said as he stared at the clouds, "I wasn't the one who gave those orders." The second the words left his mouth, an ominous clap of thunder shook the building. "Ah, am I saying too much?" he thought, his lips curling into a smile. It appeared that his time was running out.

"I swear—if you're trying to feign ignorance—I'll cut you to ribbons," Aeron threatened as he walked over and pushed the end of his blade into Poseidon's back. Yet again, the man giggled.

"It is staggering how much you and I are alike. Honestly, I find it unsettling," he said. "You came here looking for a fight, for something to alleviate your boredom, but I'm sorry, you won't find that here. This place is now nothing more than a graveyard, a footnote in history."

"Calm down, Aeron! We should at least hear what he has to say!" Zia called out as she desperately tried to push his sword aside. She, at the very least, was willing to listen to reason. While she held him back, Poseidon slowly walked up the steps to his throne. Every second another distant bolt of lightning struck the ground, steadily approaching their position. Still blinded by rage, Aeron did not notice this and flew up the stairs, landing right in front of the false god. However, Zia's words must've done some good as he did not immediately attack him.

"Tell me then, Poseidon, if you weren't the one who sent your kelpies after us, then who did?" he hissed as his eyebrows narrowed. "Was it whoever freed you from Tartarus? For a prideful Angel like yourself, that would make sense."

"Your instincts are sharp, I'm impressed," the man cooed, playfully slapping his knee as Zia frowned. She felt that something was wrong, but sadly, there wasn't enough time for her to do anything about it. "Mr. Weber," he continued, "have you ever heard the Angelic riddle of the prisoner and the inescapable cell?" At this point, Poseidon was confident that the Templar wanted nothing more than to tear his head off. However, he knew that he couldn't do that—not until he got his answers. "It goes a little something like this: a prisoner is trapped in a cage that he cannot escape. He gets no visitors, has no tools, he doesn't even have any clothes. Yet, somehow, the man manages to worm his way out. How do you think he accomplished this impossible task?"

"That's simple," Aeron responded as he rolled his eyes. "In most scenarios, one would assume that the cell door was locked. But—for this particular riddle—it wasn't, right? The whole lesson of that proverb is that the key was the prisoner trusting himself." It took him mere moments to come up with that answer. However, even though it was correct, he was missing something.

"Hmm, good choice, but you're only half-right," Poseidon told him as he stared up at the sky. The thunderstorm—which once seemed so far away—was now right on top of them. He probably only had a minute or two left. "The truth is, that riddle has two answers. The first—and most common—is that the prisoner escapes of his own volition. But, in the second variant, where that isn't an option, the locksmith who crafted the prisoner's chains sets him free. That's what happened to me." When Aeron heard that, he couldn't help but scoff.

"What are you trying to say? That it was this locksmith who ordered you to sick your minions on us?" he grumbled while the cogs in his head started to turn. It took a few seconds for him to process Poseidon's words, and when he finally figured it out, the truth hit like a knife through the heart. "Wait… you aren't suggesting that—" Aeron didn't want to believe what he was thinking. He found the idea preposterous. However, it made too much sense. After slicing into him, Aeron just knew. He knew the man couldn't lie. For, as the false deity said himself, there was nothing left for him to fight for. Sadly, before Aeron had the chance to clear up this sudden sense of confusion, Poseidon rose from his throne, reached out, and pushed him down the staircase.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weber, but it seems that I've run out of time." The push was so sudden and quick that Aeron forgot to unfurl his wings. When he finally realized what was happening, it was already too late. "Hell," the man started as he turned to Zia, "it truly is a horrible place, as I'm sure your friend will soon understand. It makes men desperate, to the point that they'll do anything to escape, even if only for a moment. I did what I did so that I could see the sky again. In return for my soul, I made that pledge," Poseidon told Zia as Aeron painfully pulled himself up off the ground. Confused by the fallen Angel's words, the ambassador could only wonder as Poseidon shifted his gaze back to his angered brethren.

"You bastard! You must crave death or—" he stopped. When he saw Poseidon's eyes, that was all he could do. In that stare, he saw something that he had never seen before, and that was empathy.

"A word to the wise, Mr. Aeron Weber, boredom drives Angels mad. Try not to fall victim to the same fate I did," he warned as Aeron leaped into the air. However—before he had the chance to take to the skies—something incredible happened.

"What?!" he, Zia, Kashif, and Elizabeth all called out as a thundering boom filled their ears. Suddenly, their eyes were blinded by an intensely bright light.

"Did he… did he just get struck by lightning?!" Aeron thought as beads of sweat rolled down his face. For a moment, none of them knew what was happening. It was as if they were floating through space, completely separated from the flow of the Universe. As quickly as the flash appeared, however, it vanished. Soon, their vision returned to them, and once it did, what they saw would haunt them for the rest of their days. There—at the top of the staircase—stood Poseidon. His body was charred black, and underneath the fallen Angel's skin, they could all make out a powerful flame greedily devouring the man's innards. The orange glow seemed to permeate every inch of his being and quickly spread throughout his entire body. The intense blaze almost reminded them of Aeron's sword—although these were much more powerful and intense than anything his dinky little weapon could ever put out. But, because of that knowledge, Aeron could tell what was happening, which terrified him. "Poseidon's soul," he thought as his jaw hung open, "it's being erased."

From the desk of Beurt Albere...

I have no idea how the rest of my kin manage it. Every day they walk past Aeron Weber like he's just some other Angel. However, I know the truth. Swimming in his eyes, I saw a lust for violence that could make Demons tremble. My brothers and sisters thought of him as little more than a rebellious upstart, but he was more than that. I could feel it—like he was predestined for greatness. The way he carried himself was utterly different from that of other Cherubs. It was like he believed that he wasn't even a part of the same species. It was almost as if he were looking down at all of us. If there was a specific part of his gaze that unnerved me, that was it. It was the feeling that—even though he and I were cut from the same cloth—I would never be able to conquer the mountain he sat upon.