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“It is a title handed down to me by prophecy, a deed-name written by destiny’s hand. Who am I to argue with destiny?”
I took a step toward him, and Abaddon shifted in his seat. I hadn’t noticed his wings, not until they unfurled behind his back and stretched out from either side of him. He looked poised, like a giant bird of prey ready to strike me down at a moment’s notice.
“Not another step,” he warned.
“Abaddon… it’s me, Sarakiel,” I said.
The King of the Ashes rose from his throne, standing upright and curling his wings behind his back. “I know who you say you are, but you are not her. You are a lackey, a minion trying to curry favor with the Morningstar. Know that you have been sent here to be destroyed.”
Abaddon reached out to me with his right hand, and I felt my chest tighten as if it had been caught in a vice. Pain rippled through me in waves, radiating from my core all the way out into my limbs. I felt my throat close, my ribs strain, and my vision begin to blacken.
I didn’t know how he was doing this, but I didn’t have time to figure it out—I had to break free.
I did the only thing I thought I could. I stretched my wings out behind me and flared my Light, bidding it to manifest in the space between them. A bright, golden radiance filled the chamber tearing through it like a tsunami to fill every single dark pocket it could find. The hooded congregation began to screech and hiss, and as the light touched them, they evaporated into pillars of dark smoke.
Abaddon’s hold over me broke a moment later, allowing me a chance to take a breath and regain my senses. I felt like I had just been smashed in the chest with a sledge-hammer!
“How did you?” he asked, his head angling to the side.
“Because I’m not who you think I am!” I yelled.
The King of the Ashes lowered his head again, his red eyes burning. “We shall see,” he said, and then he launched himself at me, using his giant wings to propel himself through the chamber and close the distance between us.
He wasn’t a demon, so the Light pulsating between my wings had no effect on him except to throw his aim a little. He tried to grab hold of me but fell short by a foot or so allowing me a moment to jump back and find my own footing. With my feet firmly on the ground, I was able to avoid the next attempted grab and the one after.
I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was like he was possessed. He kept coming for me, throwing blow after blow when he realized he wasn’t able to grab hold of me like he wanted to. I didn’t have a choice but to put up a shield of blazing Light, one that allowed me to put something hard between us for him to smash his gauntlet into.
My golden shield burned to life with a hum, and when Abaddon struck it, he looked entirely stunned. I took the opportunity to bash him in the chest with it, forcing him back a few paces and stopping the flurry of blows even if only for a moment.
“Abaddon!” I roared. “It’s me!”
Abaddon stared at me, his face now bright and entirely visible against the shine of my shield. He looked the way I remembered him, but there was pain in those eyes, and anger. I realized as I saw him in the light that the red glow of his eyes wasn’t visible anymore, and that behind the glow were those mercurial eyes I had fallen in love with.
It was him. He was in there. And as his mouth slackened, I knew, he had just realized I was me as well.
“Sarakiel…” he whispered, his head shaking. “Impossible.”
“It’s not,” I said, “I’m here.”
“You are in Hell. I saw him throw you into the Pit.”
“I made it out, Abaddon. I made it out of Hell, and I’m here now.”
Abaddon’s eyes suddenly widened. He turned his face away and put his wings up as if to shield himself from my gaze. “You cannot be here,” he said. “You need to leave.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. I’m not leaving without you.”
“You do not understand. You cannot be here.”
“Because he expects you to kill me, right? How many times has he done this to you?”
“That is not the question to ask. The question is how many times have I killed you… with my bare hands?”
“He tortured you…” I breathed. I reached for his wing, trying to touch it, but he shrugged away from me and began marching back to his throne. “What did he do to you?” I called out.
“That isn’t your concern, Sarakiel.” Abaddon turned his head up and looked at the skylight. He reached an outstretched hand toward it, then he clenched his hand into a fist and the skylight imploded. Pieces of it broke off and fell harmlessly around him, cracking into even smaller pieces as they hit the ground leaving Abaddon bathed in a wash of moonlight.
“Leave,” he simply said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Before he realizes I haven’t killed you.”
