[i]Ten years before the present day...

Location unknown.[/i]

Lucien was sitting in what had once been a small city square, the buildings long abandoned and gone to ruin with the merging of Heaven, Hell, and the Surface. She was coming, this much he knew. After all, you just don’t ignore the Essence of an ‘old friend’, and he was reasonably sure that she was in one of the buildings in front of him. Tracking her had taken him years, but he had found her. There was no way she could escape without him noticing, not that he expected her to try and run. He sat on the rubble of what had once been a statue, sharpening his sword, and waiting. Only she would see the tension in his body, the barely controlled fury. Not that there was anyone else to see it, but if there had been; only she would have noticed. The rhythmic and familiar sound of a weapon being prepared for battle did little to calm his fury. Rather, it enhanced it. He was still sharpening his sword when she came out.

“You know,” Lucien began eyes on his sword, “it’s interesting what beings will say if they think it will keep them alive for a little while longer. Very interesting. Sometimes it’s even true. I found Maximilian. You remember him, don’t you? Tall, red hair, typically wielded an axe? Well, after I killed his guards and beat him, I was getting ready to drive my sword through his heart and check another off my list of Cowards-to-be-killed when he babbled something about there being another member I didn’t know about. He babbled about how there was someone that I’d never expect who helped them on the project. My first inclination was to kill him, but I decided to listen. Who knew, maybe I actually had missed someone. He told me it was you. I killed him immediately afterwards.” Lucien stopped sharpening his blade and held it up to examine, still not looking at Cerria. “But, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, you were always gone during the time the parasite was being created. And when my daughter started dying, you avoided me like the plague. Granted, I spent all my time with my daughter. But, what really made me believe Maximilian was the fact that days before the dragged her before a crowd and executed her in front of my eyes, you left. You [i]ran.[/i].”

Lucien looked at Cerria now, and all of that friendship, camaraderie, and trust he once had in her had been turned to a burning hatred. If he could have killed with a look, the small city would have been reduced to nothing more than a radioactive crater. “Before I kill you,” Lucien continued with forced calm, “I just want to know one thing: [i]why?[/i] I would have butchered an entire nation had you ordered it. I would have died for you in a heartbeat. I trusted you. [i]She[/i] trusted you. And you let her die. You didn’t even have the courage to watch the results of you treachery, so you ran. You ran to your precious Surface, while they mocked her. Spat on her. Called her a traitor and a consort to Demons! [i]Why?![/i]” All semblance of calm had deteriorated by this point. The only reason why he wasn’t stabbing her right now was the fact that he needed to know. Needed a reason. Needed something to make sense of the betrayal.

Cerria stood facing her once erstwhile companion, her spear at rest, her body tense and her wings trembling ever so slightly. Unlike him, she had long since lost her armour. They had been best of friends, bonded in a way that only two warriors who had fought and bled together. She shared his sentiment - there was a time when she would gladly have laid down her life for him.

She wasn’t so sure now.

She remained silent as Lucien spoke. He wore a facade of calm initially, but as he went on Cerria could see the layers of self-discipline falling away, until all that remained were his raw emotions - the pain of her betrayal written across his features, the hatred he now felt for her almost tangible enough to cut the air. That hurt her perhaps more than any blade could, or would in the coming battle. She knew that nothing she could say would dissuade him now.

“Why?” She said, resignation strong in her tone. She was in the wrong and she knew it. However she may have changed in recent years, this still felt like a recount of her sins to a jury that had already decided her fate. She planted her spear into the ground and leant on it as she recounted her actions in that terrible time so long ago, her eyes distant as she recalled the past. “Because we were losing… And they manipulated me with the one thing they knew would work. They gave me hope.” She had fallen so completely for the story that the ones now calling themselves ‘the council’ had woven, even though she would never have approved had she known the truth. “They told me…” And her voice took on a tone of loathing and hatred as she recounted their words “They needed my knowledge of destruction and change to create something [i]new[/i]. Something to save us all.” A bitter laugh escaped her then, how naive she had been back then. “I rushed to help them at the prospect of victory.”

With that, an edge of steel came to her voice and she stood straight once more, looking directly at Lucien. “I know you probably won’t believe me now, but I truly did not know that they were using a demon for their task, much less using your daughter to conduct the experiments. Had I known that at the beginning, I would have struck them all down where they stood. I didn’t find out about your daughter until it was too late. I wanted to at least put her out of her misery when I found out… But they would not let me close enough.” Even as she spoke she thought she sounded like a newly fledged girl trying to make her mistakes sound less terrible. She wouldn’t blame Lucien if he thought she was lying.

“As for why I ran? I was ashamed. I had just been party to the murder of an innocent, the daughter of one of the few still alive who cared about me as anything other than a weapon. I blamed - No, I still do blame myself for not seeing it earlier. Not intervening. And so I ran from my mistakes.” Anger was creeping into her voice, but directed against herself. She hated what she had done. “But here you are. All my sins have finally caught up with me, and the lost souls cry out for vengeance. We both know that there is only one way this can end.” Storm clouds were already gathering overhead, and in the distance wildfires spontaneously sprang into being, encircling the pair. Cerria did not yet sink into a combat stance, hoping against hope that Lucien might still have some forgiveness to offer before they fought, but she was ready to spring into action at a moments notice.

Lucien listened quietly while she delivered her excuses, ignoring the storm clouds gathering above, and the fires in the distance. Regardless of how this fight ended, they wouldn’t be a problem for him soon. [i]Losing?[/i] He thought, [i]We were getting annihilated and everyone knew it. Every day the Demons drew closer to Heaven’s Gate, and every day we lost more warriors. She volunteered for the same reasons you did. Victory appeared to be within reach. But she’s the one who paid for it.[/i] He didn’t care about her reasons for joining the Cowards in their projects. He didn’t care that she fell for their lies. He just wanted to hear why she ran when he needed her most. When his daughter needed her most. If her explanation was supposed to move him to forgiveness, or mercy, it didn’t. Shame was no excuse for what she did. Nothing would be a good enough reason for what she did to her. 

After she was done speaking, he lifted his blade into a ready position. “Oh yes,” he sneered, “they stopped you. They stopped the most powerful Angel in Heaven from getting to one girl and her father. Truly, they must have fallen far from power when I finally got to them. Excuse me if I don’t believe that the Cowards were able to stop you.” He flared his wings, getting ready to attack. Already, signs of the Demonic parasite were in him. Black feathers where scattered throughout his wings, and his powers were limited. Not that he was good at anything besides combat. He wouldn’t beat her through anything more than Battle Angel skills. “The great Cerria! The Bane of Demons!” He mocked, practically spitting the words at her. “Driven to cowardice by the mere fact that she couldn’t face the consequences of her actions! She couldn’t watch as my daughter took the fall for her crimes!” He suddenly stopped, relaxing. His voice became soft. “Let me tell you what the consequences were. 

“They drew me away first. To make things go smoothly. Before I could react they had chains on my wrists, and blades at my throat. Then they went for her. She was in constant pain as the parasite ate away at her, and they were not gentle. Her screams announced her coming minutes before we saw her. She called for her mother. She called for me. She even called for you. But her mother was dead, I was incapacitated, and you had run away. They threw her down the stairs, where she fell in a heap, sobbing in pain and fear and confusion. Then they began reading off her ‘crimes’. Guiding the Demon horde to Heaven’s gate. Leading fellow Angel warriors to their deaths. Consorting with Demons, to create vile half-breeds. Her wings, they claimed, had gone black because of her union with the enemy. And the punishment, they announced, was to be death. But they didn’t just simply execute her. Oh no. They cut her wings off first. And then, after she had screamed until she could scream no more, after she had looked to me to save her, and pleaded with me to make them stop, [i]then[/i] they killed her.” He stared at Cerria, grief and guilt surfacing beyond the hate and rage for a moment. “You’re the lucky one.” And then it was gone. Hate and rage returned, and he gripped his blade tightly.

“You had your chance at redemption. And you chose to let her die. You chose to let her be blamed for Heaven’s fall. You chose to let her become the epitome of evil in Angel minds. Your shame does nothing to bring her back. Your shame changes nothing of what happened. Your death won’t either. But it’ll be a step in the right direction.”

With that, he drove forward with his wings, crossing the distance quickly, and stabbed with his sword at her chest. She would pay for her crimes, like the others had. And she would pay in blood.

It was as Cerria suspected. Lucien had no forgiveness for her. Nor should he have. When he raised his blade, she raised her spear and spread her wings. His taunts stung, insults to her martial pride, but they were nothing next to what he said next. The calm of one who has shed so many tears that they can no longer cry anymore came over him, making for an odd sight as he remained poised for battle. He described the death they gave to his daughter. The humiliation. It was a scene she had hoped to prevent, yet never witnessed. Even now, three millennia later, it cut to her very core. As the description continued, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. And then another. As if feeling sympathy for her pain, a gentle rain began to fall from the stormclouds far above. When his rage returned, she faltered from the edge in his voice alone, stepping back once. He was announcing the truth to her - that she was as much a coward as the ones they both despised. The words cut far deeper than the sword in his hands ever could. The blade would end her life, but the words made her [i]desire[/i] the blade.

Yet however much her heart bled for who she was in the past, something fundamental in her had changed since then. Then, she may have cast down her arms and submitted to the killing blow. But now, she would not- [i]could[/i] not simply lay down to die. Just as Lucien was changed, she could see the legacy of her work in his feathers, so had she. [i]If its any consolation-[/i] a tiny voice said in the back of her mind [i]you both died a long time ago.[/i] Then Lucien acted.

With that, a gust of wind filled her wings, pulling her back and upwards. She hung there in mid air with the continual gust filling her wings. A bolt of lightning struck the ground next to Luciens feet, thunder following immediately from far above. “She died because we failed!” She screamed, her words punctuated by another bolt of lightning striking nearby. “She died because you failed! I failed!” Another bolt of lightning, wind growing steadily more fierce in a whirlwind centered on her. “Because our race was flawed! Even in our desperation we [i]failed[/i]!” A wild rage was beginning to overtake her, spurred on by the wrath of nature that was in turn worsened as her rage grew. She [i]hated.[/i] Hated the Demons. Hated the Angels. Hated the humans. Hated fate for causing it all. But most of all, she [i]hated[/i] herself.

The rain came down heavily, beating at Luciens armour. The wind encircling Cerria picked up speed drastically whipping up the dust and even picking up a few smaller stones, making controlled flight for anyone outside the eye a nightmare, even impossible with the water flying almost horizontally. The clouds above were extending down into a cone shape and the distant fires grew ever closer. Her foe had seen it all before, but never had she reveled in the potential destruction of it in his presence. No matter the ending of this battle, this land would be ravaged by its end.

He was unmoved by her tears. They were too late to offer anything. Too late to quench the fires of rage, to silence the howls for vengeance. The lightning bolt through Lucien off his course, sending him in a brief tumble through the air before he landed on his feet, body tingling as it repaired what was damaged in the blast. As soon as he felt the wind pick up, his wings pressed tightly against his back. They would send him flying throughout the air, completely at Cerria’s mercy if he didn’t. Despite the gravity of the situation, and the fact that he was trying to kill someone he had once considered his greatest friend in his long life, Lucien was grinning. It was bloodthirsty, fierce, and filled with joy. [i]This[/i] was simple. [i]This[/i] was free of emotions and philosophy and right and wrong. It was just two warriors, fighting until one fell. This was all he understood. And he would do what he understood to the best of his diminished abilities, until either he fell or she fell. Simple. 

He began walking towards Cerria, using his sword to keep from being swept away by the wind. He had been in this situation many times and knew how to best approach it. Though, he had never thought he would be on the receiving end, trying to kill her. As he stumbled and was nearly swept away by the wind, Lucien briefly envied those Demons who had claws that they could dig into the ground. That would have made this situation easier. As it was, he kept pushing onwards, towards her screaming. The rage and hate in her voice sounded familiar to him. It was the same hate and anger he uses to sustain himself, to keep himself going until the last killer of his daughter had died by his hand.

 As she spoke of how they were flawed, Lucien began to laugh. It was a bitter sound to hear. “And why do you think the Surface Angels were created?” He roared into the storm, trying not to be swept away. “Because [i]our[/i] race was working? No! We were a failed project, so they were created! There are only four of us still alive! The remaining Cowards, you, and me! We’re dying out! And they’re taking our place! They’re the future of the Angels, not us! We’re just war ravaged relics, clinging to life for various reasons! I cling to it because vengeance demands it! The remaining Cowards cling to it because they’re afraid to lose their lives and their powers!” He kept walking forward, towards the blurred image of her, his blade digging deeply into the earth every time he moved. He allowed himself a smirk as he walked. So much for no philosophy. 

“Why do you cling to life? Why do you go from town to town, destroying the humans?” Closer. He just needed to get a little bit closer.

Cerria's self-hate was only intensified as Lucien confirmed what she said. Part of her wanted ever so much to simply fall on his blade. The rest of her screamed in defiance as he questioned her purpose. "They have perfection within them! And yet they [i]squander[/i] it! I simply remove the chaff from the wheat! The slag from the ore!" She didn't add that she had no idea what constituted success and the end of her self appointed task. It didn't matter anyway, she wasn't sure she even believed it anymore. She just reveled in the destruction now.

With a scream of pure hatred, she caused the rain to fall so heavily that it came down in sheets. Beating her wings hard to gain altitude, a hole appeared in the base of the hurricane and she flew up into it, closing the base after her and forcing it down to the ground even faster. The water was getting caught up in the walls of the hurricane now, most of it never even reaching the ground, and it took on the appearance of a dirty waterspout. From the cylinder of calm inside the hurricane, she began to exert her will on the ground, causing it to rumble and shake. In a short time it would begin to open up in great crevasses that would easily swallow a man whole. Demons had fought her with similar tactics to Luciens, and he would not prevail as long as they continued to fight the battles of old. If she had to dash him against every ruined building before piercing his skull with her spear, she would. Until then, she halted the lightning bolts and readied sheet lightning that would envelop the water filled hurricane the moment Lucien was caught in it, or set foot within.

As Lucien walked , step by brutal step, towards Cerria, listening to her scream at him about how the humans were perfect, he realized that she had finally lost it. She had always been on the edge of madness. Now she had fallen headfirst into to it, and there was no going back. Abruptly, what had started out as a vengeance slaying turned into a mercy killing. All of his hate, his rage, dissipated into pity. “What have they done to you?” He whispered into the howling wind, stopping his forward progress. Cerria wasn’t what she had been, all those years ago when Heaven had fallen and he had lost everything. She would have despised the creature she saw now. But the old Cerria was gone. In her place was this…thing. This creature of hate and anger. Briefly, Lucien chuckled. “Or rather, what have they done to [i]us[/i]?” They were similar. Broken by the world around them, all they had left was hate. He had accepted this about himself long ago. But to see this done to a former comrade…someone who was once so proud…it hurt. It hurt enough that he even acknowledged that he cared, the second thing since his daughter died. But there was a difference between the two of them. He had a target. Cerria had no target. No goal. All she knew was destruction and hate. She would keep going, keep destroying, until something or someone killed her. As the rain fell harder Lucien stopped finally, realizing futility. He knew where this was going. So he backtracked. Forced his way as far out of the hurricane and away from the trap.

The earth was breaking. Cursing, Lucien spread his wings and took what limited flight he could. It was far from his usual control, but he had more than someone who hadn’t dealt with her winds and her powers would have. It wasn’t pretty, nor particularly stable, but it worked. Taking this moment, Lucien considered the problem. She wasn’t going to come out of the hurricane. Not when she held the power. So he’d have to go in. It only took a moment for an idea to appear, and then he thrust with his powerful wings. Up he went, slowly, erratically, but up nonetheless. Everything had a limit. A stopping point. She couldn’t have one all the way to the stars. And there would be a hole to slip through up there.

Keeping Luciens shining armoured figure in sight through the storm was difficult, Cerria may have been in an area of calm and free from the beating rain and howling winds, but those things did a great deal to obscure vision, even for an Archangel. But keep sight of him she did, tracking him by the shimmer of the armour that once gave her such pride, such hope. When she saw that he would not fall for her trap, she screamed in rage once more, weeping once more but now with hate. He was rising, slowly but surely, even as he was tossed about like a toy boat in a stormy ocean. She abandoned her control of the rains and the lightning, allowing them to strike as they would, and beating her own wings against the still air of the storms eye. Unimpeded by the storm force winds, she would rise much faster than him.

It still took several long minutes of hard flying, ascending through thinning air, before she rose above her perfect storm. From so high, it seemed serene, beautiful even, but all that did was stoke her rage yet more. She soared higher, making use of the precious moments before Lucien caught up with her to gain the height advantage. The moment his shining armour pierced the clouds, she would swoop down at him with wings folded, aiming to skewer his skull on her spear at as great a speed as she could.

As Lucien’s head broke the cloud cover, his body soon following, the only thing that saved him from being skewered through the skull by Cerria’s spear was his survival instinct and his reflexes, both honed by a lifetime (An original Angel’s lifetime) of war. He looked up and assessed the problem in half a second. His head jerked to the right, and his body began to follow, but he was too slow, the spear crashed into his shoulder driving them both back down through the cloud cover through the sheer velocity of Cerria’s descent and her mass. Instinctively, Lucien’s hand immediately shot up to grasp the shaft of the spear, keeping it in him. “You were always bad at precision strikes.” He said through gritted teeth. The damn spear [i]hurt like hell[/i]. But he kept a firm grip on it. It was his only advantage right now. “But perhaps you don’t need precision with hurricanes and wildfires as weapons.” Without warning, his blade flashed upwards, trying to slice through the shaft of Cerria’s hands and force them to let go of the spear. 

Meanwhile, the blood that had been gathering around the spear where it entered his body stopped dripping down his armor. It began to go up the shaft instead, creeping towards Cerria’s hands, and clinging to the shaft despite the wind and tumbling with a dogged determination. Now that he had her close, Lucien was planning on letting her get away as easily as she pleased. Any amount of pain would be worth it to end this fight quickly before things got any worse than they already were.

The moment Cerria felt the blade pierce Luciens flesh a wave of regret filled her. Had she just killed the only other being in all the realms that understood her?

No. The regret transformed into frustration quickly whens he realised she had missed her mark, worsened when Lucien taunted her through it all. As soon as she realised that her foe was alive and her weapon largely immobile, she spread her wings and willed an updraft to catch her as they plummeted through the roiling clouds. With no ground to provide leverage, it was the only way to wrench the weapon free.

The sudden, massive shock as the wind caught in her wings and decelerated her hurt a great deal, and it was all she could do to keep her wings unfurled and catching the wind. A lesser angel may have had them ripped clean off at such abuse, but Cerria's wings were among the strongest of any Angels, for they were tempered by regular flying in the hellish storms she summoned. Her hands did not fare so well however, and despite trying to grip the shaft of the weapon as hard as she could, she nonetheless felt it slipping away, the smooth metal haft made slick with the rain. She managed to hold on barely at the end of the weapon, though it remained stuck fast in Luciens flesh. This desperate manoeuvre had saved her hands however, as were her foe's blade was set to cut clean through both her arms, instead the tip merely gauged into one wrist. She let out a yelp of pain from the strike, and though it was already healing, it would not be nearly so fast as what Lucien could manage. It was a long time since her body had had to react to any severe injury. In all of this struggle, the pair had slowed in their descent, but the hurricane would not give up its hold on them, even while they were still so far up.

The sudden stop nearly jerked the spear out of his shoulder, but Lucien managed to pull it back in, clenching his teeth harder against the pain. At least they weren’t in a freefall anymore. In the tumbling wind, the point was inevitably moved about in his shoulder, and he could occasionally feel it grating against bone. This experience was made worse by the fact that every time the spear left an area, it immediately began to heal itself of the damage done, having new flesh ready to be rent when the spear came back. Upon hearing her yelp, Lucien bared his teeth into a blood thirsty grin. “What? Been a while since you’ve fought something that didn’t run from you screaming in terror? How long has it been since you’ve felt [i]pain?[/i] Decades? Centuries?” He taunted, a condescending tone in his voice. He hadn’t done all the damage he desired, but at least he had marked her. His blood was climbing over his gauntleted hand, steadily growing closer to the barely holding on hands of his enemy. It would all be over soon. In the meantime, Lucien’s sword flashed forward again, seeking the hands of his enemy once more. His friend. His comrade. His commander. 

Not for the first time, nor for the last, Lucien cursed the Cowards and their ‘plans’. He cursed the Demons and their war. If neither of them had done any of that, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He would be in Heaven, with his family. Just as quickly as he opened that door, that vision, he slammed it shut. There would be time for mourning what could have been later. Until the Cowards were dead, he couldn’t weaken himself. He couldn’t leave any room for regret or grief.

Cerria’s cry of pain turned back into a cry of rage as her friend taunted her. She furled her wings right as he struck out with the blade again and the controlled motion became wild as the pair started spinning through the air again. Once more, an otherwise limb severing strike simply cut across the bare flesh of her arms. This time she made no sound, gritting her teeth and pulling herself down the length of the spear with all her might before Lucien could recover. The last section was difficult as the spear was slick with his blood.

Using the spear as leverage, she deftly kicked off to spin around behind him, snaking her wings around his body in what might almost be considered a loving embrace if they weren’t pressing in with such force. While certainly not strong enough to crush him outright, she could at least hold his wings in place and restrict his movement while her arms wrapped around his unguarded throat and began to crush. “Just give in Lucien!” She half whispered, half shrieked in his ear. “Let me end your pain!”

As she moved down towards him she twisted and wrenched the spear, sending searing pain throughout his shoulder, briefly stopping paralyzing his movement. That was all the time she needed. Quick as the winds she had summoned she was behind him, her wings restricting his movement, her arms crushing his windpipe. Lucien forced his arm upwards, not to claw at the arms cinched around his throat but to grab the spear that was still in his shoulder. He turned it towards her voice in his ear, ignoring the panic that was pushing on the edge of his mind and the blackness that was pushing on the edge of his vision. One thought pulsed in his head. [i]I can’t give in. Not yet. They’re still alive. She must be avenged.[/i] Then he pushed down with all of the strength he could bring to bear. The act brought as much of a scream as could be pushed through his crushed throat as possible and the spear tore through his shoulder and wing, heading towards the chest of his old friend on his back. The blackness was narrowing his vision, but he was still conscious. He could still control his blood. The blood freshly oozing from the entry wound raced towards Cerria’s arm. The blood on the spear, and oozing out of the exit wound, reached for the nearest clothing or skin of hers, seeking to burrow. 

The blood on her hands didn’t need to wait for any of this. It simply burrowed into her palms, tearing muscles and nerves. There wasn’t enough of it to force her arms away from his throat, but there was enough to start tearing its way towards her brain, doing as much damage to everything and anything it could on the way. 

Lucien himself now reached up with his free hand and grabbed at the arm around his throat, pulling on it with all the strength he could. He didn’t have long before unconsciousness claimed him and shortly after that, death. Still, that one thought pulsed through him though shortened as the lack of oxygen got to his brain. [i]She must be avenged.[/i] It was all that kept him going, now and before. He feared that in this instance, it wouldn’t prove to be enough, and he would die at the hands of the shell of his former comrade. And wouldn’t that be poetic justice? The broken shell of a warrior slain by the broken shell of his commander. 

Pain. Cerria’s breath left her as her own spear pierced her flesh, locking her in and Lucien thoroughly into their deadly embrace. If either of them was to escape, it would be at the cost of the others life. With the pain, Cerria’s rage did not increase. Rather, it began to subside. Her grip lessened ever so slightly around Luciens neck... 

And then the real pain started. Luciens blood, now covering her hands and the front of her clothing, seemed to come to life, tearing and biting into her flesh like acid. She screamed from the pain, it was unbearable and blocked out everything else, creeping inexorably up her arms and through her chest. Her Angelic flesh tried to fight it, tried to heal as it went, but that simply ensured that there was fresh muscle and organ to rend and tear anew, for Lucien was bleeding ever more from the wounds inflicted by the length of metal that was Cerria’s weapon.

As the will that was maintaining the fierceness of the storm around them began to fail, so too did the unnatural storm. The winds slowed and the rain lessened to a lazy drizzle, though having been brought into existence they would not simply go away without express command. Cerria’s grip on Luciens throat was now more of an instinctual thing than intentional, and not as strong as the muscles in her arms were shredded and remade over and over.

All she could feel was pain, and the world tinted in red.

At first, Lucien’s pulling was ineffectual. The darkness began to close in more and more, and despite all of his centuries of training and warfare, he began to panic. The end was rearing its ugly head and he didn’t want to meet it. Not yet. Then her grip loosened slightly. Lucien began to pull harder. Then, around the same time she began screaming, her grip loosened enough for him to pry it away from his throat. He felt a twinge of guilt at all the pain he was causing her, just for a moment, before he began sucking in great gulps of air. For a moment, that’s all he cared about. Not the fact that they were rapidly falling down through a violent storm towards ground that was likely still shaking and moving, or the fact that she was still alive and screaming in his ear. All he cared about was getting oxygen into his lungs, painful breath by painful breath. So it took a few seconds before he was able to do more than just gasp for breath and wonder if they were about to hit the ground at any moment. When he finally did get enough air to push back the darkness encroaching on his vision, he gripped his sword tightly and decided to finish the fight, before the ground reached them. The least he could do for the shell of his captain was to give her a quick death.

So it was pity, not rage, which moved his hand. He reached up behind him, towards the screaming, with his free hand and grabbed her head and jerked it forward. Then he shoved his sword towards her skull.

Several long moments later, they hit the ground. They hit it [i]hard[/i]. Most of the bones in Lucien’s body shattered, and he spent long, long minutes laying there while his blood returned to his body and his bones repaired themselves.

Cerria was helpless to stop Lucien when he gathered a handful of her hair in his armoured gauntlet and yanked her head forward hard. Her nose broke on his armour, but the pain from that was inconsequential next to the burning fire in her veins and flesh. Her eyes widened as she saw the sword point towards her, and the world seemed to slow.

Here at the end, there was no rage, no hate and no pain. It didn't matter what was right or wrong. She felt a sense of peace that she had forgotten she could feel and what remained of who she was rejoiced. With a final effort of will, she calmed the air around them and sent one last command to the skies.

Then the tip of the sword struck, and everything went dark.

Far above the broken forms of the two angels lying on the ground, the clouds carried out their last order. moving sedately under the light winds of the storms aftermath, they gathered together into a gargantuan facsimile of Cerria's face, looking down at Lucien's prone form. The lips stretched into a smile, the entire structure illuminated from behind by the sun. Their task complete, the clouds began to drift apart and fall back into their natural flow, bound no longer by any will, nor would they be touched by such a will ever again.