Chapter 20 – The Sacrifice

The world spun around Anastasia, and before she could even process it, she found herself back in the tunnels of Italy. Dirt and stone beneath her, the sharp scent of damp air filling her lungs and right in front of her, pinned to the ground beneath her knee, was Elijah, his dark eyes blazing.

Fury spread through her like wildfire. Before she realized it, her fist had flown forward, landing firmly on his face, and the painful crack that followed was so satisfying she nearly laughed. Blood dripped from his nose, but he just gazed at her, his eyes filled with that maddening, aggravating calm, as if he had anticipated her reaction all along.

She wrenched her attention away from him and examined her surroundings, struggling to breathe until her gaze fell on him—Matt. He was standing there, alive and bewildered, just like everyone else. She ran over without thinking, wrapped her arms around him so firmly that she felt his bones move. If she held him any harder, he'd break.

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, pulling back and giving her a strange look. "I love you too, sis, but… what's going on? Can we just get out of here?"

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Matt's face softened. He reached up, wiping it away with his thumb, his eyes clouded with concern. "Ana, are you okay?"

Bastian's eyes were already narrowed down, as he studied her with his piercing look. Something flickered over his face, and skepticism filled his features. He knew her too well. He could tell something was different, that something had changed in her.

She swallowed, barely able to hold herself together. "Let's just… let's get out of here."

They made their way through the twisting tunnels, each step echoing around them. But as they reached the exit, she knew she couldn't delay her decision any longer. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind already racing through what she was about to do. They had to get the Angel Fire Blade, and she had to make sure Matt survived—whatever the cost.

With trembling hands, she unfolded her wings, letting them stretch out, filling the space around her with a sharp, dazzling light. Before anyone could register what was happening, she spun around, grabbing Matt, positioning him just in front of her.

"Wait—Ana, what are you doing?" Matt's voice was tight with panic, and Bastian's eyes widened in shock.

Then came the searing pain—a blade, cold and merciless, drove through her back, ripping through her flesh and piercing her heart. Agony tore through her, a brutal wave that dropped her to her knees as blood pooled at her lips. She gasped, the world blurring around her, but she didn't scream. She didn't even flinch.

"Ana!" Matt's voice, raspy and scared, rang in her ears. Bastian appeared at her side in an instant, his eyes wild with dread, but she could hardly see him through the fog that had crept in around the corners of her vision.

A shadow moved in her line of sight, and then there he was—Elijah, smirking, his eyes glinting with something dark and twisted as he took a step closer.

"Well, well," he drawled, folding his hands behind his back. "What a twist, hmm? Throwing yourself in front of the sword meant for your dear brother. It's almost poetic." He gave a smug, knowing smile, his voice softening. "It's almost as if this has happened before, wouldn't you agree?"

Confusion flickered across Matt's face as he glanced from Anastasia to Elijah, terror plain on his features. Bastian was no different, torn between her and Elijah, his face contorted in helpless anger.

Elijah leaned down, his voice a low whisper, his breath chilling against her ear. "But you know, Anastasia, you're not supposed to die here. Not yet."

Pain lanced through her again as he gripped the hilt of the sword, pulling it free from her body with a slow, agonizing motion. She gritted her teeth, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth as she spat a curse at him, but he just watched her with that infuriating calm.

Bastian moved toward him, but Elijah held up a hand, stopping him cold. "Ah, ah, angel. I wouldn't take another step if I were you," he said, voice dangerously soft. "Unless you'd like to be sent back to the Celestial City… much sooner than planned."

Bastian's jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides, but he didn't move. "How… how do you know—"

"Enough." Elijah silenced him with a cold glance, his eyes flashing in warning before he turned back to Anastasia.

She sank, feeling like her life was slipping away. But then something unexpected occurred. Elijah's fingertips lingered over her wound, and a warm sensation went throughout her body, touching every inch of ripped skin and shattered tissue. Light—soft and pure—emanated from his palms, and the anguish began to fade, the wound healing as if the blade had never touched her.

Elijah was healing her.

The agony faded, replaced with numb shock as she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Why… why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer immediately, only looked at her with a strange, unreadable expression. "Because you're meant for something more, Anastasia. What you did was reckless, but it's done now. And like every reckless decision, it has its price."

She swallowed, fear prickling at her skin. "What… price?"

He tilted his head, his gaze hard. "That will reveal itself soon enough."

Her mind swirled with confusion, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "How do you know all this? How do you… know me?"

He gave a quiet chuckle. "Because I am an archangel, Anastasia. Time, changes to it, they don't affect our powers. Every action you've taken, every ripple you've created… those in the Celestial City will feel it, know it." He straightened, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze. "But not with your life, no. You are too important. You have no idea what you've set in motion."

A wave of bitterness welled up inside her, but she couldn't deny her gratitude for his unexpected help. She steadied herself, looking up at him with a grudging respect. "Then why did you try to stop us? To keep us from getting the Angel Fire Blade?"

Elijah's expression turned somber. "Because that was my task—to ensure that you never reached it. But fate… it has strange plans. I didn't know who you truly were, not until you altered everything with your actions." He paused, and there was a strange resignation in his eyes. "It's still written that you would leave with the weapon, so I have no choice now but to step aside."

The anger and mistrust between them still simmered, and part of her hated him, even now, for the part he'd played in her brother's death before. But there was a sliver of unexpected gratitude, too, that he'd stopped fighting her… for now.

Then, the rumble of footsteps echoed around them. Soldiers from the Vatican, a dozen men clad in black armor, began to surround them, ready to capture them. Elijah raised a hand, signaling them to stop. His second-in-command, puzzled, stepped forward.

"Are we… are we really going to let them go?"

Elijah nodded, his tone unwavering. "Yes. This is how it was meant to happen. Let them pass."

The soldiers, clearly confused, held their positions, reluctantly lowering their weapons. Anastasia locked eyes with Elijah one last time, a silent understanding passing between them. He gave her a nod, a look of unexpected respect.

Without a word, she turned, breaking into a jog to catch up with her group, who were already heading toward the exit. She felt Bastian's concerned gaze, his hand brushing hers as they moved together, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him just yet. Not now, when everything felt so fractured, so uncertain.

As they reached their father's contacts who had a car ready for them, she cast one last glance back at Elijah, who was watching her with that strange, cryptic smile. It lingered in her mind as she ran, the weight of his words sinking deep into her bones, questions swirling, clawing at her from within.

But whatever price she'd unknowingly agreed to pay… she knew it was waiting for her, just out of sight, inescapable.