She was a Descendant, and he was Bound to her. His single
duty, to keep he safe long enough for her to pass the Blood down the chain of
Lineage. And he had failed. When the band about his wrist had darkened from
Amber to Coal Black, he had screamed an unholy scream as he Faded to her side. Someone
had covered her corpse with a red satin cloth. She was still warm to the touch,
but the Warmth that was her Soul had faded. She lay there, hair askew, skin
much too pallid, eyes staring blankly. He brushed his palm over her face,
leaving her eyes closed, giving her a much more peaceful look.
Nuriel wilted. Each feather in his graceful wings slowly
fading from a golden kissed white, to a dull, matte black. His Light diminishing
as he cut himself off from the Host. They knew, of course. His solitude was not
an attempt to keep the news from the Host, but instead, a self-inflicted
solitude. He couldn’t bear the sympathy of the others. He had failed in this,
his most sacred of duties. He did not deserve their sympathy.
He gathered her to his chest, tucking the satin around her,
and together they flew through the darkness of the city, for the last time. He
alighted on the balcony of the Church of the Fathers. His wing brushed the handle of the French
doors that opened into the study of Father Osiris. The dapper man looked up
from the tome over which he was pouring.
As soon as his bespectacled eyes took in the changes in
Nuriel, he stood, rushing across theroom, the tome falling to a heap on the
floor in his urgency. “Annie?” he choked out. Nuriel knelt with her draped
across his arms, like a knight offering his sword.
(more...)
