Chapter 3 - Sealed Fates

During the time Oriel was confronting Aldes, his delay in the royal palace of the angels was becoming a matter of concern. The chamber was adorned with shining iconographic paintings on the walls, and grand chandeliers holding dozens of candles hung both throughout the room and high upon the ceiling. A massive painting depicted an angelic figure at its center, holding a sword that gleamed as if it bore the light of the sun itself, accompanied by other angels who washed their faces with water above, on the ceiling of the hall.

Servants and guards stood at their posts along the sides of the room, where blue, green, and white vases filled with flowers were also placed. Every column near the chamber's windows bore a golden cross, surrounded by chains. The king, together with his three children, sat at the divine white table before the royal throne, the table adorned with golden crosses, red roses, and gleaming wine glasses. The throne itself stood in the very heart of the chamber.

Usually, Oriel was exceedingly diligent in his missions and regarded as a model for the royal family. Yet there was always the possibility that this reputation was not entirely deserved, as seemed to be the case now.

"Hmpf! It seems my brother Oriel is turning into a disappointment," said the youngest brother, Eliael, 124 years old (the fourth prince). "Who would have thought he'd fail this mission? How laughable."

As mentioned in the previous chapter, the nation of angels had four royal heirs, or rather, three princes and one princess. At first we were introduced to Oriel, the prince tasked with gathering information from the kingdom of Tamasi. Now we are introduced to Eliael. Let us say that his relationship with Oriel is far from good. He is less handsome than his brother, shorter, a little chubby, dressed in a plain white tunic, with short curly blond hair, and devoid of any talent, except for using his intelligence in ways that are far from divine. This has shaped a bitter personality. In short, he is the black sheep of the family.

"Eliael, don't rush to such conclusions. We know that our brother Oriel has carried out every mission with great success. I am certain it will be the same this time as well."

These were the words of Princess Kaela, 153 years old, the second child of the angelic royal family. She was the complete opposite of Eliael, an innocent girl, hardworking, capable, and proud of her family. She wore a white dress with golden sleeves and upon her head a small silver circlet shaped like fig leaves. Her long, wavy golden hair and blue-green eyes regarded her cynical brother with disarming innocence.

"Heh, heh! And what about you, big brother? Do you think our dear Oriel will manage to succeed?" Eliael turned his attention toward his eldest sibling, Tarnael.

The firstborn of the royal family, Tarnael, was 175 years old. He was a figure of seriousness and stoicism, whose opinion always carried weight. His long, wavy golden hair framed piercing blue eyes that seemed to look straight into one's soul. He wore a white tunic with a dark cloak over it, and around his neck hung a perfectly crafted wooden cross on a chain. Atop his head rested a small golden fig-leaf crown. This time, however, he did not move his lips at all; instead, he gave Eliael a deeply intimidating stare. Panic struck Eliael, who began to understand what his elder brother's silence implied.

King Augustel, dressed in a black robe feathered with dark plumage, rose from his throne. His long silver hair flowed beneath his golden crown, his powerful silver beard marking his age and strength. His eyes radiated authority and dominion, commanding the gaze of all present, especially his children. The deep blue of his irises reflected the immense power he possessed. Around his neck hung a cross, glowing with a blood-red gleam against the white shirt beneath the black feathers. Rising in an imposing manner from the royal throne, he declared:

"My children, do not trouble yourselves. Even if Oriel fails to obtain any information, or if he does not return, we will send other visionaries to complete his mission. He can be replaced with ease. Do you understand me?"

The king's word was absolute, and naturally, his children had no right to object. Kaela trembled under the weight of her father's decree. Eliael acted with utter indifference, scratching his ear, while Tarnael remained expressionless.

"Kneel," the king commanded, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable order.

All three children bent their left knees, lowering themselves before their father. Kaela was filled with fear, Eliael with carelessness, and Tarnael glanced at his father from the corner of his eye as he rested on his knee. Augustel returned the same glance to his eldest son, as though the two were locked in debate without a single word spoken. What the eyes reveal, words can never fully express...

Meanwhile, Oriel was in dire straits. Wounded, his left leg bleeding, his face and body marked with blows, and his sword shattered in half a few meters away, he stood utterly diminished before the fearsome presence of Aldes. It was painfully clear that he had thrown himself into a situation where even the faintest glimmer of hope was nearly impossible to find.

"In general, the children of a royal family are nothing more than spoiled puppets. But at least you had the courage to face danger head-on. For that, I tip my hat to you. I imagine you've heard the saying: experience makes its own mark," Aldes told him.

Oriel looked at Aldes, watching him breathe heavily, hatred etched into every muscle of his face.

"What do you want from me? Wealth? Power? Honor? I can give you all of it. Just speak," Oriel pleaded in utter desperation, struggling for breath between his words.

Aldes regarded him with his piercing yellow eyes, full of disdain. With calculated indifference, he began walking toward the chair where he had been seated, each slow step heavy with intimidation. Placing his arms upon the chair, he stared down at Oriel without uttering a word.

"I still don't understand how I ended up in this mess. The portal was clearly the work of my brother's hand. But how did you enter it? What exactly do you want with me?" Oriel pressed on.

"To kill you, of course," Aldes replied with chilling composure.

Oriel was taken aback by the blunt honesty of the answer.

"But as for who ordered your death, that I cannot reveal. It would be rather unfair to my client if their identity were exposed so carelessly."

Oriel listened intently to Aldes' words in that crucial moment.

"But personally, I enjoy watching the reactions of my victims before they even understand why they are about to die," Aldes said, curling his lips into a disturbing smile.

Oriel's muscles trembled with terror, shaken by the demon's unnerving composure. Overcome by fear, he unfurled his wings and launched himself into the air, fleeing at a desperate, frantic pace, hoping against hope to escape his judgment, his death at Aldes' hands.

"It was ******..." Aldes spoke.

Oriel froze the instant he heard the name. His legs quaked, his hands trembled, and his white wings cast a shadow beneath him, an angel paralyzed by the terror and cold grip of death.

"No... it can't be... Of all people, it was him...?" he whispered in disbelief.

"This is the reaction I was waiting for," Aldes replied. "It is my favorite part of the work I do. It's like adding salt to a dish, and salt, after all, is what makes the meal truly flavorful."

Without even realizing it, the upper part of Oriel's head was sliced away, clean, precise, like a knife cutting through a ripe tomato. Blood streamed down across his stunned eyes, like a fountain drowned in misery. He collapsed face-first onto the ground, like a shattered wine bottle abandoned in despair, its cork lying to the side, just as the top of his head now lay beside him.

Aldes watched the angel's body fall lifeless to the ground without the faintest flicker of reaction. Then, with calm detachment, he drew a blue sphere from the pocket of his suit.

"Everything is done. You're still in the forest, Atbara?" Aldes asked into the sphere, his tone unnervingly serene, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

Atbara appeared, a figure draped in gothic attire, wearing a dark cloak over a suit of the same shade, its large white buttons gleaming faintly. His long, wavy black hair spilled out beneath a tall, pointed hat reminiscent of a sorcerer's. His skin was pale as snow, and his clear blue eyes scanned every corner of the Guhojre Forest, every tree, every creature stirring within, as he fulfilled his duty as a guardian. Mounted on his unique steed, a six-legged beast with two long dark-blue horns and piercing yellow eyes, he cut an imposing silhouette.

"Is the task complete?" Atbara asked in a low, cold, and faintly indifferent tone as he guided his mount forward.

"Perfectly executed, in fact. You truly are the right partner for me. I especially enjoyed how you crafted the barrier to match that first child exactly. It threw the wretch into utter confusion," Aldes replied with mocking amusement.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Atbara, riding on in his calm composure.

"Exactly. I have no reason to remain here any longer. I should be going," Aldes replied, his eyes lingering on the broken chair where he had once been seated.

"True enough. I must explore the forest now, lest another suspect like this one move about as he pleases. We'll speak again later," Atbara said, signaling his steed to gallop through the dark trees of the divine forest.

"Of course. Carry on with your work... Vampire Atbara..."