Chapter 18 - The Bud of Evil

A dark chamber, where two candles were the only source carrying the color of life. Old, classic cabinets lined the walls, filled with books bound in hard covers, most of them a deep maroon. Mosaicked paintings adorned the room, depicting dragons in flight, breathing fire, destroying kingdoms, fortresses, castles. They were portrayed as terrifying creatures, knowing only how to bring ruin and hunger for conquest.

These images appeared pale in the dim glow of the flickering flames; a small fire reflecting what had long been lost to time, the forgotten gods of fire. Yet the faint radiance revealed one painting unlike the others: maidens clad in white cloaks, semi-transparent, with long flowing green hair, pale skin, and crimson eyes. They moved toward a pool of water, a symbol perhaps of the peace the dragons had found after discovering themselves.

Queen Kaliga sat in her chair within this chamber, reading scrolls and old notes in her quiet solitude. She wore a brown dress, her hair, an intermingling of chestnut with a faint golden tint, was tied in the style of a Slavic maiden. Upon the table before her rested her crystal sphere, set on a special stand, its surface reflecting the wavering candlelight.

Suddenly, the sphere flared with an unexpected rose-colored glow, a sign that someone was attempting to communicate with the queen.

"Magura has failed," came a soft, emotionless voice through the sphere, before vanishing.

Kaliga, who had been holding the parchment with both hands, now clenched it in a surge of anger and disbelief until she tore it apart. The flames of the candles shuddered at her fury, though they did not go out.

"Magura? Of all people, Magura has failed? Who in the hell is working against us?" she muttered to herself, cloaked in the shadows of this mysterious chamber.

Meanwhile, in the Guhojre Forest, Atbara held the crystal sphere close to his lips without revealing his face, then slipped it back beneath his cloak. He took a deep breath and continued riding through the dark trees.

The Kingdom of Saint Zagra, or rather, a great portion of it, lay in ruin. The once fertile, joyous land of sanctity had become nothing more than forgotten rubble and blood. Nearly ten percent of the kingdom had been reduced to a desert of death and devastation, surrounded only by a faint oasis of divinity.

Tarnael stood frozen before the harrowing sight, unable to summon any words, unable to show even a trace of emotion. He stared at the lonely feathers drifting in the air, at the angelic children crying, mourning, and at the lifeless bodies of his kin carried away by the rescue parties, maimed, broken, and killed in spirit as much as in flesh.

"It is believed that two thousand soldiers, nine generals, and at least three and a half thousand civilian angels have been massacred in this sudden assault, Your Majesty," reported an angel standing beside Tarnael.

"Five thousand angels slain by a single demon?" Tarnael asked, his voice shaken with fear.

"I am afraid so," the reporter answered.

"And Marshal Ovidius?" Tarnael pressed on.

"Utterly shattered by the demon's power. He refuses to speak to anyone. We've tried questioning him about the incident, but we've learned nothing. He is like a lamb terrorized by a pack of wolves," said the reporter.

"I see... not even a Guardian of Hell could cause such devastation," said Lazrael, who had just arrived at the scene of the massacre.

"Lazrael... where have you been?" Tarnael demanded.

"I was inspecting the tube, to see if it had suffered any damage from all this chaos. Fortunately, not even a scratch," Lazrael replied.

"What use is Bakabali to us, when so many angels die like a flock of helpless sheep?" Tarnael asked, gazing at the sorrowful panorama that had desecrated the angels' grace.

Everyone fell silent, their faces heavy with immeasurable gravity, including Kaela and Eliael, who stood quietly behind him.

"Our lives are meant to have meaning, not to be torn away in such a manner, especially by a demon. Has anyone discovered what this demon is?" Tarnael asked the reporter.

"Her power is believed to surpass even that of a Guardian of Hell," the reporter answered.

"Her? Wait! You mean it's a female?" Eliael interjected.

"It has long been assumed that only the demon king, Xael, could exceed the strength of the guardians of Hell. But this demon's infiltration overturns that belief," the reporter continued.

"Lapis holds a decisive advantage over Lagus, since the membranous channels of the organs responsible for generating such energy, their very presences, act in direct antagonism with one another. And yet she managed to slaughter the generals, shatter the marshal's spirit, and erase an entire legion of soldiers from existence, almost without effort," another reporter added grimly.

"There is only one answer, then," Kaela said in a voice of unwavering seriousness.

Everyone turned their gaze upon her.

"She must be the demon king's sister."

The words stunned them all. A simple reply that unraveled an entire paradox. A single, unassuming key that could unlock the most complex of locks.

"Your Highness, there is a strong chance you are right," Lazrael admitted.

"It is the only explanation that makes sense. But who would have imagined the king even had a sister?" one reporter wondered aloud.

"Does this mean the demons are declaring war on us?" asked another.

"What?"

"Impossible!"

"No chance!"

The gathered angels reacted all at once, voices rising in disbelief at such an out-of-context claim.

"I do not believe so," Tarnael said firmly.

"Your Majesty..." the two reporters muttered, unease written across their faces.

"I do not think this is the work of the demons at all. More likely, it was the dominions," Tarnael declared.

"Hm!" Lazrael suddenly reacted.

The others stirred as well, but the sound that escaped him was louder than theirs.

"What is it, Lazrael?" Tarnael asked.

"N–Nothing, Majesty. Only that this theory appeared rather abruptly. Could you explain why you think this way?" Lazrael said.

"This has been one hundred percent an infiltration mission. The Dominions know we have gathered information regarding the Uanamangura. And what do they do? They send an infiltrator who is not of their own race, so that if something were to happen to them, no trace could be tied back. That is why the Dominions employ individuals of other races. I have read as much in their histories. It is a tradition they have followed throughout nearly all of time.

If the demons had truly declared war upon us, why did this one appear first in the royal palace, and only afterward in the kingdoms? Does that not strike you as suspicious? Should it not have been the other way around, if her purpose truly lay there? Only the cunning mind of the Dominions could weave such strategies.

They wanted to know what we were planning, and perhaps they have already discovered it. This demon merely broke cover, forced to fight before aid could arrive in time," Tarnael said, his gaze fixed upon the blood-soaked horizon, not once turning his eyes toward the others.

"Impossible!"

"Everything you've said makes perfect sense, Majesty. I am deeply impressed," one of the reporters admitted.

"How could they wield such powerful armor among them? I am astonished," Eliael remarked.

"The Dominions are themselves immensely powerful. It is said that their general, Igorus Friola, could burn an entire continent without much effort. I cannot even fathom how much strength their marshal, their king, and their queen must hold," another reporter said gravely.

"Truly terrifying," Kaela whispered in unease, listening intently to every word exchanged.

"This is not the time to speak of madness. They are strong because they have driven themselves beyond their limits. We are gods of honor, for heaven's sake! I will no longer accept such humiliations. Life is not a field of flowers, but a field of trials, where the strongest triumph.

Though they are our enemies, there is one thing I respect about the Dominions: their power to change their own fate. Their power to give hope to the future. Their power to ignore whatever obstacles may stand in their way.

We too hold the potential to be gods, in the truest sense of the word. We are angels, punishers of sinners and supporters of absolute justice, which this world deserves. Amen!"

At this speech, all the angels found courage anew. They began to cheer, to cry out Tarnael's name, and shout Amen in unison.

"We shall build an army, so vast in number that its very presence will strike terror into our foes. An army that will end this needless tyranny of the other gods. An army worthy of the paradise I will create. Amen!"

"AMEN! AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!"

"He never stops giving speeches, but that's what I like about you, brother," Eliael said proudly.

Kaela watched the entire scene unfold, white feathers filling the air, while the word Amen echoed from every direction, above the flat, blood-soaked earth.

"I truly enjoyed your performance today, Your Majesty," Lazrael's voice echoed through a dark corridor lit only by fire lanterns mounted along the stone walls. He walked side by side with Tarnael, who maintained a stoic composure as they moved toward a hidden chamber.

"So, your prediction proved correct. A demon has breached our nation. And not just any demon," Tarnael said, turning his eyes toward Lazrael as they continued their stride.

"Magura Donogrey. The sister of Xael Donogrey, the Demon King," Lazrael replied, his voice uneasy.

"We've caught quite the prize," Tarnael muttered under his breath, a faint smirk curving at his lips.

"We've arrived, Your Majesty," Lazrael announced, opening the door at the end of the corridor. Inside, Magura sat imprisoned within a great iron cage, her arms crossed as she kept her eyes closed in silence.

"Magura..." Tarnael whispered to himself, gazing upon the demoness.

"Is she not a rare beauty? Elegant, fierce, foul, wicked, and yet honest. You will never find such qualities in our women," Lazrael said with sly amusement.

"You mean your women," Magura retorted, opening her eyes and rising to her feet.

"Heheheh..." Lazrael laughed like a mischievous boy.

"Looks like you've brought a bastard with you," Magura spat with contempt.

"Allow me to introduce the new King of Angels, Tarnael Frizina," Lazrael declared theatrically, his arms spread wide like a jester ready to present his act in some accursed circus.

"A new king, is it? How far the angels have fallen. To crown a child as their sovereign," Magura said mockingly.

Tarnael let out a low growl in protest at her words.

"He is also the son of Simonaela Frizina. Does that name sound familiar to you?" Lazrael asked, smiling.

"Why would you mention my mother here, Lazrael? Especially in front of her? Hm!?" Tarnael snapped, whipping his head toward Magura, only to notice her eyes cast down, filled with shame and remorse.

"W–What?" Tarnael gasped in shock.

"Judging by your reaction, Lady Magura, I would say you knew Simonaela Frizina, and more than that, you knew her well," Lazrael said.

"What are you implying, Lazrael?" Tarnael asked, confusion heavy in his voice, desperate for an explanation to pierce the fog of ignorance.

"In short, Your Majesty, Magura is the reason your mother was burned by humans," Lazrael replied, his voice playful, almost mocking.

The light in Tarnael's eyes darkened with shock at Lazrael's words. His face froze, drained of all expression, leaving only a silence heavy with unspeakable disbelief. Slowly, he turned his deadened gaze upon Magura, staring with hatred, disdain, and disgust.

"You... what did you do to my mother?" Tarnael asked in a voice so low it trembled with quiet fury, like a volcano moments before its most violent eruption, like a mountainside heavy with snow seconds before the avalanche devours all.

"Your Majesty began losing respect for your father because he seemed increasingly pathetic, pathetic from the grief of losing his wife. The empathy you showed, especially toward one not of your kind, cost you more than you realize. This is the price a demon pays for stepping beyond its nature: hatred from all sides," Lazrael said.

"So, he is Simonaela's son. The resemblance is undeniable. I kept asking myself why he looked so painfully familiar, and now I see," Magura said in a sorrowful tone, lifting her head at last to meet Tarnael's shattered eyes.

"Hm!?" Tarnael reacted, bewildered.

"Do not fall prey to her words, Your Majesty. One must never trust the tongue of a demon," Lazrael cautioned, though his own expression flickered with unease at the contradiction in his statement.

"Simonaela was a remarkable woman. One I respected to the very end. She loved me as I was, a cursed creature. And still, she gave me her affection. I can never forgive myself for what happened to her. I killed the humans who did it, but what meaning was there in revenge? She was already gone. She was the only angel I ever respected. The first and the last to love me for what I am,. I tend to forget all the time, but for some reason, she still dwells inside my mind. I was grateful to be appreciated for who I am, even for a few years," Magura said with raw sorrow.

Tarnael listened in silence, without interruption, his gaze locked with hers. It was as if he sought to read her thoughts, to peer into the depths of her soul. But he would not.

"Your Majesty..." Lazrael said nervously, uncertain of what Tarnael's response might be.

"Kill her," Tarnael ordered coldly.

"Hm!?" Lazrael reacted.

Magura's eyes widened in shock.

"You told me she could be sent to the Clouds of Angapotea, didn't you? This cursed demon. Kill her," Tarnael repeated, utterly devoid of empathy.

"As you command, Your Majesty," Lazrael answered with a sinister smile.

"W–What? You cannot do this! You are her son! You cannot be so—"

A green energy burst forth from Magura, like a formless phantom tearing away from her body. What remained was only a lifeless shell, an empty husk that could no longer echo even the waves of the sea. Magura collapsed to the ground, dead.

"'I cannot be so cruel'? None of you have any idea... just how cruel I can be," Tarnael muttered, turning away, leaving behind a chamber steeped in the stench of Magura's death...