Nakir

Two teenagers and five fallen angels approached the convention center an hour or two before sundown. There was no one there and, conspicuously, nothing in the way to stop them. Whatever Munkar intended, he wanted them inside.

Sammy had expected as much. Munkar wanted the Fallen dead, and engaging inside a building meant neither side could trivially escape by taking to the air. Wherever the ordinary security and few workers who would be at a place like that between major events had gone, they weren't in the way.

The first room was a grand entrance. After enough space for a crowd to mingle, sets of stairways and escalators led upwards. Waiting on the upper terrace was Nakir, still hovering slightly to compensate for her diminutive stature, and no less threatening than any of the other angels when her gigantic sword was taken into account.

“Shamnail was sure you'd turn craven,” Nakir said, “but here you are.”

“I don't suppose you're going to just let us through to Sara?” Sammy asked.

“You know as well as I do what the answer to that is,” Nakir said.

Still, she didn't move to attack straight away. That was good. Sammy stretched a little, indicating for Yomi to enact one of the plans they'd come up with. In the meantime, it was best if she kept Nakir talking.

“Maybe I don't,” Sammy said, “Even if there can never be peace between us, you have to understand that Munkar has gone to far.”

Nakir was silent a long moment, and Sammy feared that she would lash out. As she waited, Yomi's shadow bent beyond what the late sun would allow, and began to creep up the stairs.

“That's not any of my business,” Nakir said at length, “Munkar is Munkar and I am myself.”

“You're aiding him,” Sammy said.

“I am pursuing the judgment of the just,” Nakir said. “That Munkar has the authority to direct such presently, I have no authority to refuse.”

Sammy gritted her teeth. Nakir had never been easy to talk with, and the contrast between her child-like appearance and her high-minded rhetoric was harder to stomach after living among humans and hearing children speak.

“At least tell us where Sara – Sariel – is,” Sammy said.

Nakir remained at a ready stance.

“You shouldn't feel obliged to refuse that much.”

“I don't see the point,” Nakir said, “You'll all die anyway.”

“Consider it a matter of honor, Nakir,” Sammy said, “If you at all recognize how the torments Munkar inflicts go against the precepts of your Lord and Elders, you should at least give us a fighting chance to save her if we get past you.”

“It's preposterous,” Nakir said, “that you who cast yourself to the dirt and severed the light of God would dare to invoke God's law against an angel who, for the moment, remains in good standing.”

“Then what if I say it?” Yua demanded.

“Mortal,” Nakir said, “this should not concern you.”

“Munkar hurt my friends and destroyed my school!” Yua shouted, “You had better believe this concerns me!”

Again, Nakir hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye, Sammy saw Yomi nod.

Eita stepped up with Yua. He said nothing more, but stared Nakir down.

Though her eyes were hidden behind her halo, Sammy could say that the angel was the one to blink.

“Munkar awaits in room 410,” Nakir said, “the theater on the upper floor. You will not reach him unobstructed, and he will not forgive you for raising your hand against him even if the Lord does.”

“That is,” Nakir said, “if you even get the chance.”

Nakir tried to fly upwards, and that was when Yomi struck. Her shadow grasped the shadow of Nakir's sword, and that ripped the real sword out of Nakir's hands. As Yomi's shadow flitted across the floor, the blade whirled through the air, staying wherever it had to to cast the shadow that Yomi had grasped. She spread her raven-black wings and leaped up to meet it, grasping the hilt and facing down Nakir.

Sammy was in the air and at her side as quickly as she could manage to be. Nakir, to her credit, was swift to adapt. She wheeled around Yomi, kicking her away, and delivered Sammy a brutal punch to the gut. Even bare-handed, Nakir's physical strength was unfair, far beyond most other Powers.

With space, the silvery light of a new Regalia began to gather in Nakir's hands, but Yomi was recovered and on her before she could manifest it fully, taking massive overhead swings and forcing Nakir to flit and dive in order avoiding being sliced by her own favorite weapon. Sammy maneuvered around to get behind her, pulling the long knife that had been imbued for her to fight with, but Nakir seemed to be as slippery as she was strong. She burst for the ceiling, weaving between the steel lattices that supported the glass facade, forcing Yomi and Sammy off the chase.

Finally, Nakir dove. She conjured a regalia, one smaller and quicker to manifest, though still a heavy, broad blade in her hand, and faced Yomi and Sammy.

But, in dealing with the two of them, Nakir had neglected those still on the ground. An arrow pierced her shoulder, striking with a flash like lightning as the power imbued into it was unleashed, and even as an angel Nakir cried out. She began to spiral downwards, catching herself just before colliding with the upper landing.

As she began to gain height once again, Yomi dove for her, heedless of the fact that Nakir was now armed. A second later Sammy saw, and Nakir learned, why Yomi had dared, as Yomi's shadow grappled Naikr's on the ground and, in so doing, was able to hurl the little Power into the landing with a massive thud.

Yomi's angle didn't even need correction. At the last second, Nakir tore one arm free of the grasp of Yomi's shadow and lashed out with her new regalia. It wasn't enough to parry, but the resounding ring of crystal glass and Yomi's scream of pain mingled.

Yomi fell away, a spray of golden blood following her as she rolled away to the side, Nakir's strike having cut to and possibly through the bone of Yomi's left thigh. As Sammy herself rushed in, she could see the damage on the other side, as through an obvious chip in Nakir's halo, a golden eye met Sammy's gaze with a mix of terror and rage.

All she needed was one hit, but Nakir was ready to fight now. How many more would have to pay the price to actually hurt her?

Sammy landed as close as she dared and brandished her weapon at Nakir, who for once stood firmly on the ground.

“What have you done?” Nakir demanded. “What have you done!?”

Nakir would get no reply. A second arrow struck her in the throat. The flash was brief, the horror lingered. Nakir's chin was torn from her face, and her tongue flopped down the massive gash that led down to her chest.

Sammy had one chance to strike. Aim for the spine to finish taking her head, or the halo to set her free?

Sammy didn't hesitate, but before she could find her mark, Nakir dissolved into golden smoke, recalled to the Weaver's Heaven.

Sammy only hoped that if they had to meet again, Nakir would still be Nakir.