As Nilrem’s elite squad of ellgru cleared the North Pass, Valen and his dark army followed them like a slow, undulating flood, oozing blackness down the small canyon. At Valen’s command, the gnal descended from the sky and slithered along with the rest. Once through the passage, the pace remained slow and deliberate.

  The large moon was nearly full again as it was twice each day this time of year. Although the smallest moon had not yet risen, the second was also high in the sky and full. The two brilliant moons bathed the mountains in silver, casting weird, rippling shadows as Valen’s legion crept and crawled out of the canyon towards the North Road. He instructed them to keep to the shadows as much as possible; surprise and suspense were just as dangerous as teeth and talons.

  He sent a small contingent into the village itself both to look for living food and to destroy all structures, ensuring any survivors would have no refuge in their homes. The creatures were so quiet, so cautious that no remaining villagers would notice them. They would never see nor hear the demonspawn snaking up the North Road towards the crystal witch’s mansion … or creeping towards Hylander’s beds.

  Caution was something Valen had learned the hard way—over five thousand years ago. He rubbed his hand over the smooth metal plate that made up his skull. The memory of that day when his head had been split open was dim—as were all recollections before that point—but there were bits and pieces that Valen retained. One single memory was all that stood out clear and bright, like a beacon in the fog.

  In that memory, it was deep night on Neworld, much like tonight. He recalled all three moons full and bright, lighting the battlefield like midday. In his fractured mind, Valen could see Nilrem standing there, beautiful, tall, and defiant, his long white hair blowing softly in the night breeze. The Archangel was dressed in his Angelic robes, a bold look on his magnificent, smooth face, surrounded in solidarity by his fellow Angels. Valen was standing with Nilrem, he recalled, his own erstwhile hair full, long and white at the time, like all Angels. He could remember feelings of righteousness and determination, but no fear—none at all. There was never any fear in Nilrem or the Angels who followed him. There was only confidence and self-assurance; they were all certain of their destinies.

  Across from the Angelic Host stood their only impediment—a throng of Fallen Angels and humans, armed and ready for battle. They were led by the great warrior Jared—who stood head and shoulders taller that any of his companions—and the only two humans ever Endowed with the Power—Maho’Ni and M’Randa. They stood between Nilrem and the Sky Chariot, blocking the Angels’ way. In Maho’Ni’s hands was a brilliantly lit weapon that looked like a sword, though Valen knew it was not. He could not now recall exactly what the weapon was, but it was not a true sword.

  Sharp words were traded between the groups, harsh and cruel barbs shouted by both sides. Nilrem marched angrily toward Maho’Ni—casually pushing Jared aside—until he stood face-to-face with Maho’Ni, his tall and supple body towering over the wiry dark-haired human. The glow of his angelic shield was intense and bright, a red aura of power designed to protect him from any harm the humans or even the Fallen could attempt on him. There was a look of ultimate confidence on the Archangel’s face, lit brightly by the shine of Maho’Ni’s sword-that-was-not-a-sword. Valen distinctly recalled the look in Nilrem’s eyes as he spit the words, “We … are … Angels! You cannot destroy us! Yield now or die!”

  Jared rushed towards the Archangel, an ancient weapon in his enormous hands, but Maho’Ni threw a warning glance at him and shook his head. Reluctantly, the large and mighty man skidded to a stop, glowering at Nilrem. He stood still, but he did not lower his weapon.

  “You are Servants of the Vessel, Merlin,” Maho’Ni replied calmly, looking almost sad as he held the shimmering weapon before him. “You have all forgotten yourselves. And you, Merlin! You are my most trusted advisor, my confidant … my friend. Please, come back to us … come back to me.”

  “I no longer respond to that name!” the Archangel shouted back, putting his nose only inches from Maho’Ni’s. “I am the opposite of everything it stands for! I … AM … NILREM!”

  “And I am so sorry,” Maho’Ni whispered as he thrust the radiant sword-like weapon easily through the red shield into Nilrem’s head and twisted. The red glow around the Archangel vanished, and the scene became totally silent. There was no explosion, no lightning, no brilliant glow; Nilrem simply melted, like a wax candle in a furnace. His face liquified. His beautiful white hair ran down his back like water. His head collapsed into his neck, then his shoulders. Finally, Nilrem’s chest caved in, blending like a thick porridge into his stomach and his legs. In seconds, the Archangel was little more than a gray-white puddle on the ground.

  At this point, the beacon of Valen’s memory faded. He had only few more scattered memories from the melee. One was a very dim recollection, like a shadow in the twilight. He was facing a ragged M’Randa holding the weapon that looked like a sword but was not. He did not remember what was said or even where they were. But he did recall M’Randa—the Soul of the Vessel—swung the glowing weapon at his head with a cry of pain and defiance. There was nothing more of that battle he could remember; he assumed that was when he lost the top of his skull.

  Valen’s damaged mind was also plagued with vague visions of another heated skirmish, though he could not recall who he fought. There were glimpses of travelling into the heavens on the Chariot. And there was a nagging sense that he and his fellow Angels had actually battled with the Vessel Herself. The only thing he knew for certain was that when he came to his senses and his memories became clear again, he was stranded on the bleak, empty surface of the large moon. Alone. Surrounded by debris of twisted metal and pieces of the lifeless limbs, torsos and heads of his Angelic family. The entire scene was lit by an enormous fire that burned bright blue against the black sky. The ghostly flames stretched from one horizon to the other.

  That was when he heard the voice. It was frail and tiny, like a whisper of whisper. But he recognized it. He ran towards it and towards the titanic azure flames that ascended into the sky. He ran quickly but carefully, threading his way between pieces of metal and glass and even what appeared to be remnants of trees and houses that were scattered all over the otherwise barren moon’s surface. As Valen crested a ridge, he stopped suddenly and stared at the devastation before him. A trench the size and depth of a great river burned blue, filled with wreckage that looked like the broken rib cage of a massive creature, taller and wider than the surrounding mountains. It could only be the remains of a god. He was certain it was the Body of the Vessel. Valen was stunned, unable to comprehend what he saw and unable to even move for what could have been hours.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Then he heard the voice again, louder this time, closer. The surviving Angel sprinted down a rubble-ridden slope and toward the sound.

  He looked about frantically and listened intently.

  Help us! said Nilrem’s voice. This was not a physical voice, Valen knew, so he reached out with his mind, speaking in ways only Angels and the Endowed can. I am here, Nilrem! he shouted in his mind. Guide me to you!

  You’re a good Angel, Valen, the voice of Nilrem said in his head. You can find us. Use all your senses.

  Valen nodded and tried to feel the vibrations around him, the movement of invisible particles, the thrum of energy from the sun … and a dozen tiny pulses, like heartbeats. He followed these rhythmic beats, noisily tossing ruined items aside, making his way to … box. It was a small metal enclosure, pocked, bent, and heavily damaged.

  With little effort, Valen wrenched open the door with one hand. Inside, laid out in neat rows, were a dozen hand-sized spherical receptacles—all empty. He suddenly remembered what should be in this enclosure: the Incarnates! These were the ancient mind-vessels from the Before World, refreshed through ancient rites to preserve their souls against bodily destruction. Long ago they were hidden within the Sky Chariot for safekeeping. And now, they were missing.

  Panicked, the Angel began searching through the flotsam inside the small cabinet and found several of the glowing gem-like spheres scattered throughout. He pulled up a corner of his robe and made a sack of it, putting each of the small globes inside as he found them. Most were completely undamaged, but a few had been cracked, and one was in three jagged pieces.

  Soon, Valen gathered all twelve orbs—or what was left of them. He searched through his collection and found the red orb—it was in perfect condition. I have you, my Lord, he told it.

  Well done, said Nilrem from his Incarnate, which pulsed with a red light as it spoke to him. What of my body?

  My head was damaged, my Lord, so I am not certain, but I believe your body was destroyed. Valen felt rather than heard the intense anger from the red globe in his grasp. It was sharp, hot, and full of vengeance.

  Destroyed?! the Archangel screamed silently. The orb almost vibrated with righteous indignation. Then it grew quiet. No matter, Nilrem said, quietly, calmly. I am prepared for this unlikely event. I will need your help, my good servant.

  Anything, Valen told him. Anything, my Lord.

  Where are we?

  Imprisoned. On the great moon.

  The same prison as the budmother? the disembodied Archangel asked, more to himself than to Valen. That was a mistake. A critical one. The Archangel paused, then said quietly, It will take time. Oh yes, it will take a very long time. But we will have our vengeance. Venom dripped from his words. First, you must find the budmother and then … our dreams will be realized.

  Over five thousand years later they had indeed broken free of their prison and returned to Neworld, ready to take their vengeance. But all those millennia ago, Nilrem and his troops had been too certain of their superiority, Valen realized. They were too anxious for their freedom, too ravenous for their ultimate goals. They had not been cautious.

  He was not going to make that mistake again.

  Send in the first wave, he commanded, silently. Make lots of noise. Let them know you are here!

  As a group, several of ellgru began galloping toward the crystal temple, screeching eerie howls, teeth bare, ready to attack. Three of the larger irdfollowed, their rock troll bodies looking and sounding like pieces of the mountain had come to life. A small group of gnal took to the air, shrieking defiance as they circled the roof, ready to dive through it. A smile crossed Valen’s face as he heard human screams coming from within the building along with the bangs and thumps of furniture being overturned in their haste to escape.

  Too late, the Angel thought. There is nowhere to run.

  The first wave of ellgru hit the iron pole fence with enough force to bend them to the ground. But they did not bend. The poles didn’t even quiver or ring with the impact. The lizard men, on the other hand, broke against the poles with a sickening wet crunch. Instantly, the fence began to light up green and make a low hum. Green lightning began shooting from one pole to another until the entire enclosure was nothing but a solid barrier of emerald light. A smell of burning garbage filled the air and the ellgru who had survived the impact with the fence cried out in pain as their bodies were consumed by green flames.

  Amidst this chaos, the gnal plummeted from the night sky in a blur, diving fast enough to crash through the roof of the Great Hall. They never made it that far. Spires on the roof came alight with red beams of energy that skewered each of the giant bats, slicing most of them completely in half or worse. Pieces of gnal fell in dripping chunks to the ground below.

  Again! Valen commanded, silently.

  Another wave of ellgru swept into the fence, climbing over the fallen bodies of their brothers … and that wave was also destroyed. More goal shot from the heavens only to be cut to ribbons by the red beams.

  Again!

  Group after group of the large lizard men ran towards the fence only to burn in the green fire. Those on the bottom, Valen could tell, were still alive. They were burning intensely, unable to move their damaged bodies, but they were very much alive. Through the link he had with the budmother, Valen could hear their minds. They didn’t feel pain but they were … frustrated.

  After the seventh wave of ellgru had attacked, the pile of bodies was so high that the eighth wave got to the top of the fence before the flames overwhelmed them. Two of the large, black lizard men toppled over the enclosure … and with a sickening plop, fell to the ground inside the courtyard. Valen knew that in a few moments, the fallen ellgru would heal through their body with their mother. And they would be ready to attack.

  He sent in the ninth and tenth waves, watching in glee as their burning bodies plunged to the courtyard with their brothers. His army was getting through slowly, but certainly.

  The rock trolls stood silently, watching the carnage, then looked at each other and as one dug their house-sized hands into the stone of the mountain where the fence posts had been secured. All of them grunted in pain as a wave of green light washed over them. Still, they did not relent. Pain in their silver eyes, they lifted with all their might, raising up the stone of the courtyard like a single massive boulder, until it shattered into a thousand pieces. Stones, rocks, and pebbles exploded everywhere … along with dozens of the fence poles. The long metal poles glowed green for a second or two as they flew with the other rubble, then went dark, as did the remainder of the fence.

  Perhaps I should have started with the ird, Valen thought. He shrugged mentally. No matter. Nothing was stopping them from entering the crystal temple now. And enter they did, hurling pieces of the former courtyard at the mansion, shattering several of the beautiful stained-glass windows.

  With his Angelic senses, Valen could feel the terror of humans within the building as they tried to flee, running deeper into the temple. And he could feel something else there, as well; something that would please Nilrem immensely. He sat up straight astride his ird and urged it forward, through the ruined defenses, into the temple. In addition to pleasing his Master, Valen found he was excited for his own sake.

  The Soul of the Vessel was within that building, and Valen intended to take his vengeance.