Chapter 6 - For the Sake of the World

In the royal palace of the angels, in the grand chamber, Kaela glared furiously at her brother Tarnael, who stood proudly upon the throne. From that elevated seat, he gazed down at his sister with a new perspective, one that lent him power.

"For the sake of this world? Spare me those lies. Father was the perfect king for us angels. A perfect parent for us. Do you even realize what you've done?" Kaela cried out, her hands clenched, still stained with their father's blood.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Tarnael replied, rising from the throne.

"What?" Kaela asked, startled, her tears spilling freely.

"Let me ask you something, and I want you to answer me with absolute honesty: Did you ever love Father?" Tarnael's voice was cold as ice.

"What are you trying to say—"

"Answer the question. Did you ever love him?" he repeated with the same unyielding tone.

"You're delusional. Ask yourself that question. You filthy bastard!" Kaela spat, breathing heavily from rage and the crushing weight of the moment.

"I see. You chose another way to avoid my question rather than answer it. That's how you've always been, Kaela. You never thought for yourself. You never gave orders, never shared your opinions. You only followed them. Like a puppet, yes, that's what Father would say right now," Tarnael spoke as he turned his eyes toward the lifeless gaze of the king, lying above the pool of blood.

Kaela's eyes widened at his words. Her hands trembled under the weight of stress. She didn't know how to respond.

"Do you see? It's not just you. It's all of you in this chamber," Tarnael declared, shifting his attention to the soldiers and servants nearby. They glanced at one another in fear, whispering among themselves, yet none dared to speak against him.

"You are all puppets, shaped by a goodness that doesn't exist. Angels are seen as pure beings, perfect, incapable of harm, forbidden to kill or even to have the right to kill. Then tell me, why do demons exist if angels are not meant to suffer? They are our reincarnations, the echoes of angels who have endured pain. And still, they multiply like rabbits. But the greater question I have is this: how was I able to kill my own father, if such a thing were truly against our doctrine? You know that what I've done is a grievous crime, an immoral, vile act, and yet none of you speak. You are so blinded by justice, by the canon of morality, by goodness and peace, that you cannot open your eyes when faced with such a deed," Tarnael said, descending the short steps of the throne and moving toward Kaela, who sat weeping beside the dead king's body.

A loud crash echoed against the chamber doors as Eliael appeared, breathless from exhaustion, flanked by three attendants, among them Lazrael, the chief servant. Guards and attendants turned their heads toward Eliael, startled and curious. But the moment his eyes fell upon the dead king lying on the ground, Kaela, who turned tearful eyes toward her younger brother, and Tarnael, whose gaze burned blood-red, as if thirsting for death more than anything else, his reaction was immediate:

"TARNAEL!!!"

His shout thundered through the chamber, releasing powerful whirlwinds of air that tore across the room.

"Well, here we have yet another one following the same protocol," Tarnael said with a faint smile.

"Eliael..." Kaela whispered, her voice trembling with desperation.

Eliael looked at his sister with deep compassion, and at the same time at Tarnael, whose eyes blazed with an avalanche of rage.

"Wh-what!? Your Majesty...?" Lazrael muttered to himself, horrified by what his eyes beheld.

"You're a little late, Eliael. And far too pathetic to take any action of your own," Tarnael said with biting contempt.

"I can't believe what you've done. Please, Tarnael, I beg you. Tell me you weren't the one who killed our father," Eliael pleaded, closing his eyes against the unbearable disbelief, clinging to the hope that he might still hear the answer he longed for.

Tarnael's eyes widened slightly, surprised by his brother's words.

"Poor Eliael. I never knew you were so naïve. You're actually making me feel sorry for you. Always shut away in your worthless little world, spoiled, useless. I feel sick every time I look at you. You are, without a doubt, the most repulsive angel these eyes have ever seen," Tarnael spat, lashing out with venomous cruelty.

Eliael could hardly believe a single word he was hearing from the brother he had idolized, the one he looked up to as his greatest figure. He had always envied Tarnael's intelligence, his cold resolve, the way he made decisions, the way his words carried weight. But to hear such words, poison spilling from the mouth of his idol, was like having a mirror shatter before his face.

"How dare you speak that way about our brother?" Kaela burst out, her voice trembling with both anger and grief.

Tarnael turned his eyes toward Kaela, though this time he said nothing, he only looked at her with full attention. Then his gaze shifted back to Eliael, who kept his head bowed, refusing to lift it toward the tragedy that had unfolded in the chamber.

"Eliael. Wasn't it always your dream to one day meet Bakabali?" Tarnael asked with a smile.

Eliael's eyes flew open, his breath caught in his chest the instant he heard that question from his brother's lips.

"What do you mean by that, Tar—"

"What if I told you I've found the exact ingredients needed to create Bakabali?" Tarnael interrupted calmly, cutting Kaela short.

The entire room trembled with shock at those words. Kaela's eyes widened in disbelief. Eliael slowly raised his head, like a child hearing something wondrous in a moment when no such feeling should exist.

"What are you saying?" Kaela demanded, shaken to her core.

"Royal angelic blood... sealed within a lifeless human vessel. That's all it takes," Tarnael replied, striding toward Eliael. His shoes splashed lightly against the bloodied floor as he passed by Kaela and the fallen king.

"Y-you... you killed Father... just to create Bakabali? Why?" Eliael asked, his voice trembling with naïve disbelief.

Tarnael continued walking, passing the attendants, passing the guards, his shadow spilling across the jars and the scattered drops of blood that seemed to be swallowed by his looming presence.

"A woman... dressed in a crimson gown," he said at last, halting mid-step.

Everyone turned to him, stunned by the strange words.

"A... woman?" Kaela echoed in astonishment.

Eliael listened to his brother intently, every fiber of him quivering with fear.

"I was in the library, alone. It was roughly midday. The sun stood closer to Diaboros than the other moons. My plan was simple: finish reading a book, then return here to the palace. But then I noticed something. Its pages weren't as I had left them. It struck me as odd. I thought perhaps my eyes deceived me, or that fatigue was clouding my mind. Yet the moment I touched one of the pages, suddenly I found myself in a vast forest of pink-colored trees. Their leaves were golden, the sky entirely white. I saw creatures I had never seen before, so blurred I could hardly describe them.

Before me stood a colossal throne woven from ancient trees. Beside it loomed two great wooden heads, faces unfamiliar to me: one a man, the other a woman. But upon the throne sat the figure that bound my gaze... the mysterious woman in the crimson gown. She had golden hair that shone brighter than anything we angels could ever possess. And yet her face bore nothing, no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no brows, no ears. It was only a smooth sheet of skin, seemingly incapable of expression, yet somehow radiating a force so overwhelming it eclipsed every feeling I have ever known in my life."

"The woman's voice echoed inside my mind: 'Tarnael... Uanamangura... has just been born...'

"UANAMANGURA!?" Eliael shouted in astonishment.

"Impossible! I thought it was only a legend," Kaela said, unnerved beyond measure.

The servants and guards reacted poorly to the news as well.

"The legendary dominion that's said to bring an end to divine creatures with its wrath. I never thought I'd hear that name spoken so plainly," Lazrael said, trembling.

"Uanamangura is supposed to destroy everything! How can we possibly fight that?" the guards asked, fearful.

Tarnael studied them, and Eliael and Kaela, noting their reactions, then continued his story.

"'W-what? Who are you? Where am I? What do you want to tell me with this?' I asked, bewildered, searching for answers, for context to make sense of such an extraordinary scene.

"'Kill your father...' the woman said, and then tossed a lifeless human body to the ground, a man in his twenties, completely naked, with short blond hair.

"'What am I supposed to do with this? Why must I kill my father?' I asked then, confused.

"'Uanamangura has been born... If you do not do as I command... this entire world will be destroyed, beginning with you first angels. You, Tarnael, are special. You were born in an age when the fate of the world depends entirely on you. Everything you have ever conceived for your life, your future, your ambitions, means nothing in the face of this moment. Even if you refuse my command, before your destiny claims you I will take, one by one, everyone you love, and present them before your eyes like prey at a feast. You will hear screams that will rattle your bones, pools of blood, chunks of flesh hung here and there. I will make your life a true hell. I will torture you so cruelly that you will think to yourself that death would have been kinder. Your father is already suffering day by day; his life no longer holds value. Therefore it is your duty to reveal the true, cruel nature of the angels...'"

"I couldn't process the malicious presence that woman carried. I had never felt anything so wicked and yet so seductive at the same time. I could do nothing but obey every word that fell from her lips. I was like a slave. It felt as if, the moment I disagreed even slightly with anything she said, my body would be torn to pieces." Tarnael said this, clutching his chest with his left hand, a gesture of the fear and horror he had endured.

"Tarnael..." Kaela whispered, deeply conflicted. She knew she shouldn't side with him, and yet she understood that her brother had no real choice in that moment.

"So my father's death wasn't your doing?" Eliael asked, pained but still tinged with the worshipful awe he felt for his brother.

"Father grew more sorrowful by the day. He treated us terribly. He suffered deeply from Mother's death. I had to end his torment. All the things I said before, I said them to open your eyes, to make you stronger. To make you raise your voices about everything. To reclaim our place as supreme beings and to stop pretending to be saints when the world does not treat us as such. Kaela, Eliael, let us kill Uanamangura together and save the world in a way fit for angels."

Kaela looked at Tarnael, but still her hands would not let go of their father.

"We have already been reborn, Kaela," Tarnael said, staring straight ahead without glancing at his sister.

Kaela turned her head toward her brother.

"Rejoice that Father has finally found peace. Now, he is in another place, a happier one, where his sorrow will no longer exist..."

Two hours later...

The Guhojre Forest, where life blossomed in an uneasy stillness, was being veiled by the shadows of the Nauthvells drifting across the sky, colossal whales that could reach up to fifty meters in length. Their underbellies were pitch black, while their upper sides glowed crimson, speckled with countless white spots, as they soared in herds high above.

Beneath the canopy of dark trees, Gurpets roamed, creatures resembling lemurs, more precisely Verrosian sifakas, though entirely orange with white stripes and deep black eyes. Small antler-like horns, akin to those of shining-antlered deers, curved from their heads. They carried their young inside pouches at their bellies, foraging for the forest's strange fruits and playing with one another. Some drank from a small pond beside their gathering.

Watching along the pond's edge, one could see its waters stirring more and more with each passing second, until the sound of hooves trampling fallen leaves broke the silence. A horse emerged, and upon it rode Atbara, navigating the terrain with sharp glances cast left and right. Animals shrank back from his presence, some fled, while others paid him little mind as he went about his duty.

But then, through the dark underbrush of the forest, Atbara caught sight of a predator, nearly as large as his horse, poised to strike. It resembled a bird, a massive hawk nearly three meters tall, cloaked in blue feathers with long legs. Yet it moved like a dinosaur, its wings not yet fully developed. Its jet-black beak gleamed, jagged with carnivorous teeth sharp enough to tear prey apart with terrifying ease.

"A Sphilinx," Atbara muttered calmly as he dismounted from his horse.

The beast charged at him, seeing him as nothing more than prey. But Atbara merely brushed his hand against the hilt of his rapier for a single heartbeat, an instant later, the predator's body was nothing but a shredded mass, torn into hundreds of fragments.

He stepped forward toward the scattered remains and organs, crouching to touch the carnage he had wrought with his own hands.

"Not bad. Looks like we've secured dinner, Kataba," he said, turning his head toward his horse.

But then, a faint sound stirred from within his coat. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his personal sphere, the source of the call.

"Yes?" he answered.

"It's done," said the voice on the other end.

"Are you certain there won't be any consequences from what you've done? Aldes and I can't afford to complain, after all, you promised we'd be well paid. Still, my professionalism demands that the client's safety comes first, should you require anything further," Atbara replied through the sphere.

"It was something that had to be done, in the name of the angels," said Tarnael, speaking through the sphere to Atbara. He was in a dark room, lit only by a single oil lamp, filled with shelves of books where he sat in a chair. Tarnael wore a dark frock coat, a white shirt with a high collar and ornate details at the throat, tight dark trousers, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail, unlike how it was usually seen, loose in a more feminine style.

"We managed to send you only the head, as testament to your brother's death. I trust you appreciated the refinements Aldes made to it," Atbara said calmly.

"It could not have been carried out more brilliantly. It was the perfect distraction. Your reward is placed within a tree with nineteen branches, twenty-five meters tall, four hundred and forty-five years old, in the northwest of the forest, beneath the moon Pulega," replied Tarnael, ending the connection through the sphere once he had given the details.

"He gave his blessing for his own brother's murder, just to achieve something. What a vile act... yet I like it," said Aldes, stepping out from the shadow of a tree, having overheard the entire exchange between Tarnael and Atbara.

"I don't care who we do business with. What matters is what we gain. That is the only thing of importance," Atbara said, casting a sidelong glance at Aldes.

Tarnael left the sphere upon the table, beside a painting that portrayed his family. His father, with a stoic expression. Kaela as a child, laughing. Eliael shouting into Oriel's ear, while Oriel recoiled in fear. Their mother, laughing awkwardly at the children's antics. And Tarnael himself, smiling. All five of them dressed in tunics trimmed with golden olive-leaf patterns.

He gazed at himself, staring closely at the smile he no longer bore. At the faces of his sister and brother, no longer the same. At his father and mother, whom he could no longer see. And at his brother Oriel, whose severed head now mirrored itself against the painted likeness before him.

"Tch! Fools. I can't believe they swallowed my act," he muttered, looking at Kaela and Eliael in the painting, his own face now clouded with sorrow as it reflected back at him from the small mirror atop the table...