[i]Lucien[/i]

The Tamer Angel looked up at him with fear filled eyes as he stood above her. His sword was stabbed through her shoulder, pinning her to the ground, and she glanced quickly to about her looking for allies. “There’s no one to help you. Your pet demons are dead. The Battle Angel with you is dead. The Musician who joined you is dead.” Lucien bared his teeth in what barely passed as a grin. “You’re all alone. It’s just you and me.” The copse he had chosen to fight against his pursuers had unfortunately contained a camped Musician who had heard he was in the area, and was planning on executing the Renegade Angel. What was supposed to be a structured defense turned into another struggle for survival. The battle had left the area ravaged. Small craters dotted the ruined landscape and most of the trees had been reduced to stumps. Lucien’s armor was covered in blood, bits of gore, and was rent and broken in several places. There was a headless Angel corpse, still clutching her blade, leaning against one of the few trees still standing. Demon limbs and gore were scattered everywhere, and a human lay slumped over his violin, his throat slashed. 

Pushing his blade down to the hilt into her shoulder and the ground, drawing a cry of pain, he stepped back. “Don’t go anywhere just yet. I have a job for you. But first…” Lucian picked up the Battle Angel’s head, gently placing it next to her body. Quickly, occasionally glancing over to where the Tamer was to make sure the Angel hadn’t tried to escape, he built a small funeral pyre and placed the Battle Angel’s body on it. Carefully, almost tenderly, he arranged it with the sword on her chest and both hands grasping the hilt. Her head was placed so that only a close look would show the decapitation. Then he walked over to the Musician’s still smoldering fire and picked up half a dozen burning coals and put them in the pyre. Any burns they caused were immediately healed. As the corpse began to burn, he returned to the trapped Angel.

The Tamer looked distinctly uncomfortable and on the verge of panic, and for more than just the madman above her and the sword in her shoulder, Lucien knew. Her wings were pinned beneath her, and for someone who has lived most of their life with them, feeling them trapped was one of the least calming things that could happen. Lucien sympathized. If she hadn’t been trying to kill him not a few minutes ago, he would have let her up. As it was, he leaned down close to her, mindful that she still could move her hands. “I want you to deliver a message to the Cowards, the Council as they pathetically call themselves. Tell them I’m coming. Tell them there is no where they can hide, no where that is safe from me. And tell the rest of the Angels that I’ll only kill those who try to defend them. I’ll even let them put me on trial and execute me after I’ve exterminated the Cowards.” He yanked the sword out of her shoulder, drawing another scream. “Go! Before I change my mind and decide to write the message in your blood!” 

Scrambling to her feet and practically springing away, she unsteadily took flight, flapped her wings twice, and then was gone. Almost as soon as she left, Lucien’s knees buckled and he threw up, spewing black liquid all over the ground. His eyes looked blood shot, only all the veins were black instead of red. They pulsed for a few seconds as he threw up, then retreated away from his iris once more. Lucien slowly picked himself up. “Not yet. They’re not dead. Not yet.” He snarled. Looking back at the burning corpse of the Battle Angel, regret and anguish crossed his features. Then he locked them away behind an iron door of hate, rage, and the desire for vengeance. He would mourn and regret his sins when they all lay dead at his feet.