Part Two

She still clearly remembered that day, when everything had changed.

“Ever heard of the Sword of Angels?”

She frowned up from her bowl of soup at Salte’s perch on her desk, his washed, bright blond hair still such a change from the dirty soot-grey that it almost made her blink. “Hm?”

“I guess it’s the Sword of Angels and something. Probably ‘and Demons’. Lot of legends have that kind of opposites thing. They say the end of the name was smudged out.” He grinned, wiggling his fingers. “Mysterious.”

She eyed him. “Have you been smoking?”

“It’s been a week, honest! I’m aiming to break my record!”

“Good. Let’s make that record a lifetime, then.”

At his long silence, she looked up to see him blinking at her, head cocked. “Y’know, I think I could manage that.”

“Then you will.”

He sniffled, smiling. “My shoulderblades are tingling.”

“Please don’t knock anything over.” The inexplicable appendages appearing from nowhere during her attempt to throw him at the shower had been a shock, but at least a harmless one. In here, though....

“It’s from happiness!”

“My point still stands.”

She sipped at the broth, silence descending.

“...Hey, Lise.” He slid to the window, and threw a smile at her. “Come over to the Agahpeh chapel tonight. I’ll show you something.”

__Present Day__

Strange, how a simple series of decisions could impact a lifetime, she mused in the present as she followed Salte through a narrow rift, the sun somewhere beyond the rocky walls.

He’s been awfully quiet for the last few minutes....

“Salte,” she started, and he turned to tilt his head at her, “you don’t think they’re close, do you?”

“Those creeps from the auction? Hope not.” He shivered.

She eyed him. “You aren’t picking up anything?”

“...My shoulderblades are itching a little.”

“When don’t they. They itch when we’re about to be ambushed, when you see an expensive painting, or when your noodles are too spicy. Is this a hunch or the cold?”

“I dunno.” He went quiet again. “But there was something wrong with them, Lise. And there’s something wrong here now. Just... don’t know what it is.”

It’s never a good sign when he’s serious like this.... And right, too.

He started humming again. “Shame there’s nowhere good to dance here. Should practice.”

And straight back to whimsy he went. She sighed. Perhaps last night had been a mistake.

__One Day Ago__

They’d arrived the day before, having already made arrangements to stay in a local lodge and set off the next morning.

And so she found herself in the midst of a communal dinner with a group of folksong-loving locals and one song-loving birdbrain. Sitting in a circle around a large fireplace/stove in the centre of the main room, it was nice to see people simply having a good meal, though.

The problem came when Salte broke off to yank her in on it.

She eyed his hand as their host, Eelis, chuckled. “Ah, she doesn't want to dance!”

“She just has to be pushed into having fun,” Salte said cheerfully, a soda charm jangling invitingly on his fur-trimmed, grey jacket’s pole-string. “Grew up in a terrible place where it wasn’t allowed.”

She gave him a flat look for that, and reluctantly clasped his hand. “Maybe I prefer to let my dinner digest, first.”

“Don’t worry, dancing’s great for digestion.” He immediately whirled her into a skipping half-waltz. “Hey, you still remember your footwork!”

Give him an inch and he’d take a mile. “I did learn as a girl before that godforsaken ball ever existed, you know.”

“Forget my wings, your memory’s the real blessing here. It’s been two years. And what, ten, before that?”

Stepping into the lead, making him skip back with her to the bouncing tune, she lifted her eyebrows. “More like fifteen.”

His smile turned a tad nervous. “You’re terrifying.”

“Only to strangers.” She smiled wryly. “Though one thing's different. You're taller than me, now.”

Blinking, he whipped his hand out of her grip to measure. “Hey, you’re right! Your cooking’s made me taller!”

“You’re an idiot.”

He laughed, whirling her around and bonking her shorter forehead briefly with his own. “But I’m a tall idiot.”

“‘Tall’ might be pushing it.”

When they took a break, Eelis welcomed them back with a pat on the shoulder, sun-raisined face crinkled into a smile. “It's good to see someone enjoying themselves. You must not be with that other group from the day before.”

“Group?” She stared at him.

“Unfriendly people. They only wanted to know where the trail of angels lead.”

Salte shared her glance. “So they’re after the sword too?”

“Even without the book,” she agreed grimly. “Were they led by a tall man with dark hair and eyes?”

“Hm, perhaps. But you should know, that if you, too, seek it, the—” he said something in his own language— “is the sword of a god who raised these mountains for his throne in ages long past. More should be wary of disturbing that place.”

Salte twitched. “Wait, the.... Can you translate that? What’d it be in our language?”

The old man thought for a moment. “Blade of Heavens and the Devils’ Dwelling.”

“Hah! I told you that smudge was ‘and Demons’!”

“Or ‘and Hell’, apparently,” Lise pointed out.

“Pff, same thing.”

Eelis hummed, eyeing Salte’s pendant. “Our ancestors tell us a man needs ‘the clarity of a pure spirit, the treasure of wisdom, and the heart of mercy’ to gain heaven’s blessing. Why do you seek it?”

They exchanged a glance.

“I... want to keep it safe.” Salte fiddled with the necklace. “It means a lot to me.”

The old man hummed. “Then, perhaps, I should give you something for your journey....”

__Present Day__

“For a long time, our people have guarded this.”

She could picture it as clearly as it had looked in Eelis’s wrinkled hands last night: a mirror, intricate braids lining the perfect circle.

“What is it?”

“The mirror of purity. Gifted to us who live by the clear lake.”

Hesitantly, she’d taken it, glancing at Salte and moving to hand it over—

“No.” A touch had stopped her, Eelis shaking his head. “This is for you to hold.”

Now, watching the back of Salte’s black coat flare with every step down through the cold, dim rift, muttering something under his breath, she couldn’t help but wonder. Every sound echoed eerily as her thumb traced the grooves of her trusty Ivy-45 in its holster.

Many things were strange, here....

Salte’s yelp and the abrupt smack of wings in her face interrupted her musings.

“Ugh, Salte—” She fought not to trip. “Could you at least warn me?”

“Ahaha, uh, that was a little involuntary.” They fluttered, almost shivering, and he threw back a wincing, apologetic smile. “Don’t know what happened there, sorry. Nearly wrecked my cheap but fancy new coat....”

“It’s not that unsettling here.”

“It’s not that. I—” He hissed under his breath, and they ruffled as she followed him through a twisted archway, the rift opening into a valley ending in a cliff-face of spines. “I can’t vanish them away, actually.”

“What do you mean, you can’t....” She trailed off, abruptly registering decorative structures and dark windows. “Wait, is that....”

“So you know that feeling I was talking about?” He fluttered his wings. “I have a pretty big hunch it’s this place. Because wow is that tingly.”

“This is... amazing.” Frozen roots sheltering dangling plant-life curled through the dark walls encasing the buried church. Flitting between windows and overgrown ledges, bats called as they picked their way along the path, their breath puffing white into the still air.

“In the creepiest way possible,” Salte half-laughed, jumping over a mirror-like puddle, the entrance yawning just ahead of them. “Alright, let’s take a look at our beautiful Anomalise’s Etlas just in case... there’s....”

She nearly crashed into him as he froze mid-pageflip, instinctively drawing her pistol. “What is it—?”

A figure stood before the doorway, eerily still.

“Looks like we’ve got a Mister Nowhere knock-off coming out of nowhere,” Salte said, snapping the book closed and manifesting his pendant’s sword. “Hey! Where’re your friends?”

In answer, the man collapsed.

“Ouch.” They both stared down at the sprawled, shivering figure. “You don’t look so good there. Must be the altitude.”

Apparently the altitude had some very adverse effects on Nowhere’s men, including abruptly and traumatically sprouting gargoyle features.

“So....” Salte began conversationally. “That’s not normal, right?”

“No. Definitely not.”

A wave of fire vomited straight at the two of them, and Salte yelped, wings abruptly flaring in front of her. She blinked to find him huffing for breath, the book’s corner on fire.

“Argh!” He flapped it desperately. “Do you know how long it took me to break that thing out?!”

Lunging forward, he slashed for the creature’s neck.

A whip-like tail came up, snapped around the sword, and flung him into the air. Lise cursed, her headshot completely ineffective.

Twisting midair, Salte’s slice crashed into its gauntlets, tearing glowing slashes. It flinched when a shot caught those, its tail flashing for her, and she ducked away barely in time.

“Hey! Alright mister ugly, time to go back to hell!”

Salte snarled, slamming to the ground like a falling star and carving straight through its arm. Blade blurring too quick for her to catch as she regained her balance and took aim, he drove it back and sliced it in half with one last savage flick.

Only for another to jump from nowhere, roaring.

“Salte!”

Her shot snapped his attention back, his eyes mirroring the burning silver of his blade for an instant. Until he seemed to register the crowd gathering, one leaping for her.

“Dammit!” Almost before she could blink, the valley blurred around them, his arms holding her tight. They crashed into the darkness of the church, doors slamming shut behind them.

She found herself on the floor in a dimly-lit hall, staring into anxious silver eyes.

“You okay?” he huffed, warm hands cupping her face.

“I—”

His thumb touched at something that abruptly stung, a complicated expression flitting through his eyes. “You’ve got a cut on your cheek.”

“I’m alright, Salte.” She softened her tone, touching his hand and pulling back. “I’m not injured.”

He let her go—reluctantly, almost—and rose with her. “Whatever those things were, they better not have poisons, too.”

“They looked a bit like your average depiction of a demon, didn't they? I feel fine, though.” She checked her pistol before looking up, light somehow filtering through stained-glass windows onto a very intricate door. “Did you fly us all the way to the chamber?”

“Uh, maybe?” He ran a hand through his hair, wings shifting restlessly, and blinked at it like he didn't know.

She eyed him. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” He twitched his hand away from his hair, and threw out an unconvincing smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. So... where’s the lock on this thing?”

Eyeing him one last time, she reluctantly turned to the beautifully-carved door’s centre, tracing the middle and three familiarly-shaped impressions. “Here, from the look of it. Do you think...?”

“Huh.” He slipped the book out. “Looks like that matches up with....”

Yanking off the cover’s jewel, he clicked it neatly into the half-moon impression, the sound echoing. “Aha! Treasure, mirror....”

Turning to her, he smiled.

And she hesitated. "Should we really rush into this?"

"What d'you mean?" He tilted his head, and gestured to the hall. "That door isn't going to hold those things forever, and the Sword of Angels has to be an upgrade from mine."

A distant, echoing shriek punctuated his words, and that something wasn't right here. She might not have wings to shiver, but unease still brushed her skin even as Salte waited, expectant.

“So, do you trust me?”

A memory drifted back: standing in a secret passage under an old chapel, her “guide” having just slashed open the mysterious door with a sword summoned from nowhere, and gleefully snatched a glittering red crystal.

Salte's silver eyes had shone in the light of her torch. “Look, I’ll be honest, I don’t know where I came from. I don’t know who my parents are. But ever since I heard that legend... I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be cool to be the one who finds it?’ That kind of thing just... calls to me.”

“Is that... pendant something similar?”

“Huh? Oh, nah, I don’t know why it can do that. Don’t know how I got it either.” He’d just shrugged and smiled. “But it also might be a key to get in?”

“You are the strangest person I’ve ever known.”

A laugh. “So what d'you say to becoming partners?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, treasure hunter partners. You want to get out of Nastis too, right? I know you hate being in the army. We could sell this and jump. I know a guy.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“Sixteen!”

“I.... Deserters are executed.”

“Don’t worry about that, I got this.” And he’d held out his hand, smiling. “I promise.”

Looking complete sincerity in the face, she’d wondered back then. It had felt like a bizarre dream, and it still did. Maybe in a way, it always had been.

Who knew what waited for them at its end?

Slipping the mirror from her pack with a sigh, Lise slotted it neatly above the moon-sliver.

Whatever happened, this was what they’d both chosen.

“Whew. Getting shivers now.” Salte lifted the pendant. “Hey, y’know, Lise. I.... After this, what if we....”

“Hm?”

She twitched a glance back at another echoing shriek, and he shook himself, quirking a quick smile. “Nevermind. Later.”

Taking a deep breath, he snicked it in, and with a flash of light, the door cracked open.

An unnatural chill brushed past them as they stepped through, faint light shining off marble floor patterns twining towards a glimmering stand. And there on that stand....

“The Sword of Angels.”

A cold voice sent shivers up her spine.

“What a holy place.” Nowhere melted from the shadows by the stand, ragged cloak rustling strangely. No, not a cloak.... "A shame that a traitor to her country and a creature like you should soil it."

“Does everyone have wings now? You’d better not be some long-lost relatives!” Salte blurted, already snapping forward, reaching desperately—

“No, of course not.” Time stilled to a frozen heartbeat as Nowhere's fingers curled languidly around the hilt. “I don’t associate with your type, I have no idea where you came from. But I do know where you’re going.”

“Salte—!”

The blade flashed up and stabbed Salte through, her gunshot booming. Too late.

Lise felt the air punch from her lungs, claws clutching her heart as if the glittering red tip protruded from her own back, a choked gasp echoing through the room.

The sound of him crumpling as a completely unaffected Nowhere jerked the blade back nearly made her knees give out.

Oh God in Heaven—

No bullets staggered the man. Nothing stopped him from flying straight at her like a demon of death, blade flashing. She threw herself back but still felt it catch. Heat sliced through the ice encasing her.

Salte was dead.

She couldn’t hear over the thunder of her pistol as he slashed casually through it. She didn’t feel anything as she fell to her knees.

The blood on her hand was cold.

Blood-stained metal blurred as her eyes found the light glittering on red seeping around the stand, dancing off the gold-white feathers of limp wings. A broken bird; a fallen angel, as beautiful in death as in life.

She closed her eyes.

The blade stopped a whisper from her heart, light searing her lids red.

Her eyes snapped open in shock to see the hilt rip from Nowhere’s grip and fly across the room into the hand of a blindingly-bright figure.

Wait, where... where was Salte's body?

“No—” Nowhere froze, and the thunderclap of glowing silver rings bursting into being nearly flattened Lise, shaking the church. She couldn’t even breathe as the man stepped back, nails like claws abruptly gripping her chin. “Give me the sword!”

The figure levelled it silently at him, voice booming through her mind when her ears gave out. “Then you shall have it.”

In one flashing stab, nails disappeared and black wings disintegrated, burned away by the thunder of flames cracking stone and shaking the very air.

She gazed up at the winged figure left behind, bleeding tears that steamed away under eyes burning too hot for her to meet. Salte...?

“S-Salte....”

Her mouth moved.

He turned and walked away.

____

“You seem confused.”

“Try ‘burned out of my mind on a high that’s turned me into a supernova’. I’m... I don’t even know what I am.”

On a molten plane somewhere between existing hot enough to nearly kill the tiny frail soul he’d known as ֍ᏰᏋᏗᏬᏖᎥᎦᏬᏝ-ᏰᏝᏗፈᏦ-ᏂᏗᎥᏒᏋᎴ-ᏰᏋᏗᏬᏖᎩ ᏰᏋᏝᎧᏉᏋᎴ-ᏰᏋᏕᏖ-ᎦᏒᎥᏋᏁᎴ ᏰᏋᏝᎧᏉᏋᎴ ᏝᎥᏕᏋ֎, and an infinite expanse of star-glittering light, Salte couldn’t even call this a fun existential crisis. It wasn’t every day a sword-stabbing gave you the power of an archangel when you honestly should’ve died.

“Salte....”

And separated you from the person you cared most about.

“Send me back,” he blurted. “Am I dead? I don’t know where the off-switch is on this thing.”

“Calm down,” chuckled the old man who was clearly not, but would definitely vaporise Lise if he appeared as anything else. “And let me tell you a story about a little angel dropped off at a small-town orphanage in Nastis around, oh, twenty-one years ago.”

“That orphanage shut down ages ago,” he said, dazed, more than just glittering lights giving him a metaphorical headache now. Hold on.... “I... was sent here...?”

He felt like he’d just been split between two different people. “I’ve had a heck of a case of amnesia, huh.”

“Heh-heh, in a way.”

Turning, he looked at Lise, tears on her face, pale and shaking. “Am I... going back, since I’ve got the sword?”

“That depends on you.”

“Salte.... You don’t have to....”

He looked at Lise, the light dimming just enough for her to meet his eyes. And start crying for real.

“Lise....” Folding his wings, the thunder of his steps softened until he dropped on ordinary knees and gently enfolded her in a hug. She was trying really hard to be selfless here, huh, coughing those words out. “You don’t need to try and be strong for me anymore, y’know. I’ve grown up.”

Rubbing circles into her back, healing those nasty wounds, he glanced over his shoulder at old man Father and smiled.

Crinkled eyes twinkled back at him. “Well, we can always do with an extra pair of boots on the ground.” He glanced down, raising his eyebrows. “And those are some very fancy boots.”

“...You’re staying?”

“Yeah.”

Lise's beautiful dark eyes stared at him, and flicked over his shoulder. “Now... I see where you get it from.”

He laughed, flashing bright wings open as the church rumbled. “So, how about we get out of here?”

____

The church, and everything in it, was gone.

Salte set her down on the mountainside, brushing a gentle thumb across her cheek, wiping away the cut and traces of tears as she watched the last rumble die out below. “Salte....”

“Hey.”

She looked up to see him take a deep breath, pulling out a familiar little pendant. When had he...?

“I... wanted to ask earlier, but, bad timing. But I was wondering if. Ah. If you’d like to extend your partnership with me? Maybe... for a lifetime.”

Wait....

"...Are you proposing to me? With a sword charm?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Ah—!” Flustered, he fiddled around before holding it out again, now a perfect ring topped with hilt jewel and wings. “There! So... will you, my stunningly beautiful gun lady?”

Lise breathed a quiet laugh, on top of a mountain with a former urchin who'd turned out to be an angel, an ancient church gone as if it had never existed. Like a dream. The strangest, most wonderful dream she'd ever had.

She smiled at him. “Yes.”