The City of Angels Still Bleeds

“For the LORD your God shows no partiality and accepts no bribes.”
That was what the scriptures said, what the angels preached, and what everyone in Elyndra pretended to believe.

I didn’t.

Because I had seen who the angels chose, and who they left behind.

My name is Kael Virex. My Grace is 9.

The number hovered faintly above my wrist whenever light touched it. Dim enough that most people would not notice unless they were looking for it. In the lower district, numbers like mine were not rare. Single digits. Low teens if you were lucky. Enough to survive, never enough to matter.

Grace decided everything. Where you lived, what you ate, what kind of work you were allowed to take, and whether anyone above you would even acknowledge your existence.

They said it measured purity and reflected how closely your soul aligned with heaven. Reach a high enough number, and one day you might ascend. Leave the lower city behind and rise into the sky where the angels lived.

That was the promise. It was also a lie.

The food line ran out before it reached me.

“There’s nothing left,” the clerk said, not even looking up.

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“Then you should have come earlier.”

“I was working.”

“Not my problem.”

The window shut before I could say anything else. I stood there, staring at my reflection in the cracked glass. Above the clerk’s wrist, his Grace shone steady and bright.

Enough to eat. Enough to live. Enough for people to pretend his soul was cleaner than mine.

Above us, the city gleamed like something untouched by reality. Floating districts drifted through the sky, bathed in soft light. White towers stretched upward, impossibly clean, untouched by anything below. Angels moved between them with slow grace, their wings catching the light in a way that made people below lower their heads.

Some prayed. Some cried. Some reached upward like they might be chosen next.

The angel never looked down.

“Oi, Kael.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

Lynae walked toward me, coat pulled tight around her shoulders, her expression as sharp as ever. Without slowing, she tossed something in my direction. I caught it instinctively.

Bread.

“You’re going to lose Grace for this,” I said.

“Only if someone reports me.”

I looked at her wrist.

High enough to have a future.

“You shouldn’t waste it,” I muttered.

Lynae always acted like she was doing things on a whim, but she never gave away food unless she had skipped a meal herself.

Lynae watched me eat without saying anything. That was rare for her.

“You’re taking the expedition tonight, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her expression tightened just slightly.

“That one’s not normal.”

“They never are.”

I swallowed another bite and looked away. Above the streets, another angel passed across the sky. Everyone bowed their heads again. Even Lynae lowered her eyes.

I didn’t.

Maybe that was why my Grace stayed at 9.

The job board was crowded when we arrived. Veilbreakers stood shoulder to shoulder, tearing down notices before anyone else could claim them. That was what they called us. Veilbreakers. People who crossed into the cracks of the world and dealt with whatever the angels chose to ignore.

Just people desperate enough to walk into places the blessed would never step.

The board stood beside an old chapel wall, beneath a statue of an angel with both hands extended in mercy. Someone had carved words into the stone below it.

"May all who suffer be seen."

The statue’s eyes were covered in dust.

Expeditions were the worst kind of work. Higher rewards. Higher risks. Everything depended on Grace. The higher your number, the better your role. Front line. Command. Blessed equipment. Extraction priority. The lower your Grace, the more replaceable you became.

People liked to say everyone had a chance to climb.

They never said some people carried everyone else’s weight.

I found the notice almost immediately.

No classification. No details. Just a location and a reward.

+40 Grace.

My hand tightened around the paper.

Forty Grace was enough to change my life. Not completely. Not enough for Ascension. But enough to move me out of single digits. Enough to make clerks pause before shutting windows in my face. Enough to make people hesitate before calling me disposable.

“Don’t,” Lynae said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.”

I tore it down anyway.

“Kael,” she said, grabbing my wrist. “Listen to me. Jobs like that aren’t vague by accident.”

“I need this.”

“You need to survive.”

I looked at her, then at her Grace again.

“You can still climb,” I said quietly. “I can’t.”

She stared at me for a moment. Her grip loosened, but she did not let go right away.

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Her fingers finally slipped from my wrist.

Neither of us said anything after that.

The expedition group gathered near the descent point just before dusk, where the lower district thinned out and the streets gave way to broken stone and old purification gates. Even the beggars avoided sleeping near Veil fractures. They said dreams went bad around them.

There were eight of us in total.

I did not recognize most of them. Their Grace told me enough.

That was the leader. Tall, clean armor, polished blade, and the kind of face that looked like it had never needed to ask twice for anything. His registry badge read Seron Vale.

A woman with silver hair tied behind her head. She kept checking the edge of her spear like she was bored already.

A broad man with a shield on his back and a grin too relaxed for someone about to enter a Veil.

A quiet Veilbreaker adjusting prayer beads around his wrist.

Then lower.

A nervous boy who looked younger than me, gripping his pack with both hands.

A woman with tired eyes and old scars along her jaw.

And then mine.

Seron’s gaze stopped on me the longest.

“You’re the lowest here,” he said.

“I know.”

“Support rear. Carry reserve charms. Do not move unless ordered. Do not engage unless there is no other option.”

The woman with the spear glanced at me and smiled faintly.

“Grace 9 and still signing for expeditions? Brave or stupid?”

“Hungry,” I said.

The shield bearer laughed.

“At least he knows.”

Seron did not laugh. “This is not a charity run. If you slow us down, we leave you.”

No one reacted. Not because it was cruel.

Because it was standard.

Low Grace did not argue. Low Grace followed. Low Grace survived if lucky.

An official from the Sanction Hall approached with a thin tablet pressed to his chest. His robe was clean, his shoes cleaner. He did not look like someone who had ever crossed a Veil fracture himself.

“Expedition record confirmed,” he said. “Objective is investigation and suppression of abnormal activity within the designated fracture zone. Completion reward will be distributed according to contribution and Grace compatibility.”

Contribution.

That word always sounded fair until someone higher decided what counted.

Seron pressed his thumb to the tablet. The others followed. When my turn came, the official hesitated just long enough for me to notice.

“Grace 9,” he said.

“I can read.”

His eyes lifted, then returned to the tablet.

“Be advised. If your Grace reaches 0 inside the Veil, recovery is not guaranteed.”

Recovery.

That was the word they used.

Not rescue.

Not saving.

Recovery.

As if what came back might not be human anymore.

I pressed my thumb against the tablet. A faint warmth passed through my hand.

The Veil fracture pulsed in front of us, a dark tear in the air that distorted everything around it. It did not look like the gates angels used. Those were radiant, clean, controlled. This looked like reality had been cut open and never healed.

The group shifted into place. High Grace in front. Mid Grace in the center. Low Grace in the rear.

I felt Lynae watching from behind the barrier line. When I looked back, she was standing among the onlookers, arms folded, face unreadable.

For a second, I almost raised my hand.

I didn’t.

“Move,” Seron said.

We stepped through.

The air grew heavy and cold, pressing against my lungs. The ground beneath my feet felt uneven, damp, and wrong. The walls curved unnaturally, like we were walking through the throat of something that had swallowed the dark.

Our footsteps echoed too loudly, traveling farther than they should before returning warped and delayed. The shadows along the walls stretched just a little too far when we moved.

“Standard sweep,” Seron said. “No unnecessary contact. If the source is minor, we seal and withdraw.”

The prayer bead man whispered something under his breath. A soft glow flickered over his wrist.

A thin veil of pale light wrapped around his hand.

Grace responded to him.

I looked at my own wrist.

Nothing.

Of course.

At high enough Grace, the system answered. It sharpened blades, strengthened limbs, closed wounds, and called down fragments of angelic power.

The boy with Grace 23 glanced back at me.

“Is this your first expedition?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He tried to smile, but it did not last.

“My sister said I only need twenty more Grace to qualify for a district transfer. If this goes well, I can get out of the east quarter.”

He said it like he was afraid the words would break if he spoke too loudly.

“Good luck,” I said.

“You think it’s possible?”

I looked at his number, then at the darkness ahead.

Twenty more Grace.

For him, that sounded close.

For people like us, close was usually the cruelest distance.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s possible.”

I hated myself a little for giving him hope.

We moved deeper.

At first, there was nothing. No demons. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just empty corridors and a silence that kept getting heavier.

That was what bothered me.

Veil zones were never clean. There were always traces. Claw marks. Burned walls. Blood. Something.

Here, there was nothing.

That was what made it worse.

Seron slowed his pace just enough for the front line to tighten formation. No one spoke. Even the shield bearer had stopped making noise. The silence pressed in from all sides, thick and unnatural, like the Veil itself was holding its breath.

The air shifted. A faint heaviness settled across my shoulders, like something unseen had stepped into the space with us. The boy with 23 Grace stiffened beside me.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered.

I nodded.

Then the ground trembled.

Seron raised a hand and the group halted instantly. The second tremor came harder, followed by a sharp crack somewhere ahead that echoed too long before fading into silence.

“That’s not normal,” the shield bearer muttered.

“No,” Seron replied, his voice calm but tighter now. “It isn’t.”

Something moved in the darkness ahead, fast enough that none of us could properly track it.

“Fall back,” Seron ordered.

We turned without hesitation.

And stopped.

The path behind us was gone.

Gone.

Where there had been a corridor, there was now only smooth black stone, unbroken and seamless. The boy next to me stared at it, his breathing growing shallow.

“That’s… that’s not possible.”

“It is now,” Seron said.

The calm in his voice didn’t reach his eyes.

“Find another way,” he continued. “Stay close.”

We spread out just enough to search without losing sight of one another. I pulled out a signal flare and struck the ignition charm. A weak spark flickered, then died. I tried another. Nothing.

“Signal suppression,” the man with the prayer beads said under his breath.

The boy beside me swallowed hard. His Grace flickered.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

The air shifted again, heavier this time, pressing down from above. Everyone felt it. The shadows along the walls stretched, pulling away from their natural shape.

We regrouped immediately, tighter than before. Even I was pulled closer toward the center, not for protection, but to keep the line intact.

Something dropped from the ceiling behind us.

The boy turned.

That was his mistake.

A shape surged forward and grabbed him before anyone could react. His scream cut through the chamber as the woman with the spear lunged after him. Her weapon flared with Grace as it struck the thing’s arm.

The blow landed.

It did nothing.

The creature dragged him backward into the darkness before she could reach him. His scream ended abruptly.

No blood fell.

No body remained.

The formation collapsed.

“Move!” Seron shouted.

We ran. The stronger ones pushed ahead, the weaker ones struggled to keep up. Someone slammed into my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance as I forced myself forward.

The shadows shifted around us, stretching and recoiling in ways that made no sense. Something followed. I could feel it, even without seeing it clearly.

It was certain.

Then the light came.

It didn’t grow or build. It simply appeared, absolute and overwhelming. The darkness recoiled instantly. The movement stopped. Even the thing behind us hesitated.

I looked up.

An angel descended into the fractured chamber.

His wings spread wide, each feather glowing with a light so clean it felt unreal in this place. The air bent around him, forced into stillness by his presence.

No one spoke.

Seron dropped to one knee. The others followed immediately. Even the ones who had been running seconds ago lowered their heads without hesitation.

I didn’t.

The angel’s gaze moved across us slowly, as if reading something written over our bodies.

Seron. 112.
Mira. 87.
The shield bearer. 64.
The others. 51. 23.

Each number steady. Bright. Worth saving.

Then his gaze reached me.

For a brief moment, something tightened in my chest. Just the instinct that maybe, this time, it would be different.

Nothing happened.

His gaze moved on.

The light shifted and wrapped around the others first. One by one, they disappeared, pulled upward, saved. Seron vanished without a word. Mira followed. Then the others dissolved into light.

The boy beside me reached forward, his voice trembling.

“Please—”

The angel looked at him. Paused.

Then the light shifted away.

A force struck the boy’s chest, knocking him backward. He hit the ground beside me, gasping.

His Grace flickered.

The angel did not look at him again.

I stepped forward.

“Wait.”

The word felt small.

A pressure met me instantly, stopping me where I stood. Not violent. Not angry. Just firm. Final. Like stepping into a space that was never meant to exist for me.

Someone brushed past my shoulder.

The light took him.

I looked up.

The angel was already turning away.

The light began to fade.

“Wait,” I said again.

It didn’t matter.

The last of them vanished.

The silence returned.

The shadows moved again.

Closer.

Behind us, a narrow fracture of light flickered. The exit. It was already closing.

The boy beside me tried to stand. His legs gave out.

“They left us,” he whispered.

I didn’t answer.

I was looking at my own wrist.

Still there.

“…Of course,” I muttered.

The ground trembled again.

Something moved in the dark, slow and deliberate.

Watching.

Waiting.

And for the first time, I understood.

The angels hadn’t abandoned me.

They had judged me.

My Grace was still 9.

And heaven had decided that was not worth saving.

I turned toward the darkness.

Alone.