The Fall of the Lightbringer Omnibus eBook Bundle

Chapter One

For an Angel, the punishment for Sinning is damnation, there are no exceptions... which is why what I was doing was really, really stupid. 

I could argue that I hadn’t been given much of a choice, but there was always a choice, and this one was objectively the wrong one. Not only was I going against my Commander’s orders; I was also betraying God and Her Sacred Word. 

It doesn’t get much worse than that, but what they were doing was wrong, and I couldn’t stand for it.

I had chosen to make my move in the dead of night, when all in the Sacred City was still, and peaceful. Here, amidst the golden basilicas that radiate with brilliant light during the day, and the huge towers with bells that tolled for all to hear, I was a shadow, racing through the air on silent wings.

My target, if I could be believed, was a detention center. It wouldn’t have made sense to neither angel nor mortal that such a place would even exist in Heaven, but it did… because it was necessary. Of course, only a handful of us knew—those who had to know. 

I was one of those angels, because I was a Lightbringer; one of God’s own Commanders and Architects. Though we would never see God or hear Her speak directly, it was our responsibility to take her Sacred Word and, with the angels under our command, ensure it was carried out. 

Today, God had chosen to sentence one of my angels, Gadriel, to the pit for a crime that made no sense. And so, today, I was breaking my vow to God, betraying Her orders, and doing what I felt in my heart was right. 

Which, again, was really stupid.

A glimmer of light in the darkness caught my eye, forcing me to duck into an alley and land. I raced toward the end of the narrow street, pressed my back against a wall, and stood motionless for only a handful of seconds. Long enough for the patrol of Guardians to pass silently overhead, despite the giant, white wings that carried them through the air.

I took a deep breath, then exhaled. 

For a panicked instant I thought I had been caught, but the moment passed, and I was able to recover my composure. The detention center wasn’t far, so I continued on foot, sticking to the alleys and side streets of the Sacred City. 

During the day, the buildings around me shone like they were made of pearls. Everywhere you looked, something shimmered, or glittered. The air smelled like the freshest meadow. It was as if the city had an aura about it, an inherent goodness to it that emanated from everything and everyone in it, and with good reason. 

At night, the scent remained, but the buildings soaked in the darkness around them. Looking at them was like staring at a sky full of stars; midnight tapestries that sparkled and shimmered, only in a quiet, subdued way that… kind of made me feel cold, and even a little numb.

It was almost unsettling, really.

I had reached the end of an alley. Across from me was a long, open stretch of courtyard that led to a long building with golden domes above it and beautiful, marble columns along its façade. This place was known as the Chantry, and while it wasn’t the largest building in the Sacred City, it was one of the most important—and hardest to get into.

It was heavily guarded, even at night. Guardians wearing suits of golden armor stood at its main doors, watching for signs of trouble. There was never any trouble, not really, but they stood there, dutifully, watching… waiting. I was going to have to break into the Chantry using a side door, or a roof access. 

Think, I thought to myself, and do it fast.

I heard a thump, somewhere behind me, and the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on their ends. The cold hand of panic gripped my throat. I wasn’t sure whether to turn around and face whatever had made the noise or dash into the courtyard and take my chances with the Guardians. 

I was about to make a break for the Chantry when a small, round creature fluttered into view ahead of me, forcing me to take a few steps back into the alley. The Cherub blocking my path folded his arms in front of his chest and gave me an angry scowl. He had soft, curly blonde hair, rosy, red cheeks, the tiniest white wings, and a little white toga wrapped around his almost baby-like body.

“Sarakiel,” he said, emphasizing the word as if I was about to get scolded—and I was. “Lightbringer of the Seventh Choir, Tenth of Her Name, and all-around pain in my ass, you have three seconds to explain yourself.” 

“Could you keep it down?!” I hissed, drawing the Cherub further into the alley. “I’m trying my hardest not to get discovered, here.” 

“That’s your three seconds. Guar—” –I grabbed the Cherub before he could call for the Guardians and wrapped my hand around his mouth.

Breaking into the Chantry to free a condemned angel was stupid; wrestling with a Cherub was insanity. They were far stronger than they looked, they technically outranked even me, and they had a direct line to God. 

I hadn’t crossed a line I could be punished for until this very moment. 

“I’m sorry!” I said, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t want to have to trick you and sneak out like that earlier, and I definitely don’t want to be doing this right now, but come on, Micah. I knew you’d never let me go.” 

The Cherub wasn’t struggling. He didn’t have to. He knew he could break free whenever he wanted to, and that meant he was listening. I felt him mumble behind my hand, so I released him—slowly. 

“I’m not an idiot, Sara,” Micah said. “And I’m not angry at you. I knew from the moment the sentence was issued that you’d try something like this. What I am is disappointed.” 

I shook my head and shut my eyes, the sting of Micah’s words hitting me hard. “That’s worse.” 

“I’m disappointed you thought I wouldn’t understand.” 

I opened my eyes again. “What?” 

Micah paused, then squirmed. “Could you let me go?” he asked, “You’re squishing my wings.” 

“Oh, sorry,” I said, and I gently released him. 

The Cherub beat his little wings and hovered beside me, just high enough that he could look me in the eyes. “I am sorry you’re going through something so difficult,” he said, “But this isn’t the way.”  

“I thought you said you understood.” 

“And I do, but one of God’s most Sacred Commandments was violated—one of two, I might add. You didn’t make that choice, Gadriel did. Don’t let yourself get caught up in her mess.” 

“She fell in love, Micah, and for that she’s being sent to the pit. How is that right?” 

“She fell in love with a human. God’s only two Commandments are clear, we are not to interfere with human lives until they reach Heaven. Not only did she interfere in his life, but she also possessed another human’s body just so she could be with him.” 

“Love them with everything that we are, everything that we have. That’s the other Commandment. Don’t you think there’s a conflict, there?” 

“You did your best arguing her case before the judges… and you lost. No one could blame you for what is about to happen to her.” 

“I blame myself,” I snapped. “I do.” 

Micah sighed, then shook his head. “You got too close to them,” he said. “Gadriel and the others, they are subordinates of yours, not friends. Your task was to lead them, to show them how to carry out God’s will, to ensure Heaven runs as it needs to, and to watch over the humans in your care. You weren’t supposed to get embroiled in their affairs, and you certainly aren’t supposed to break into the Chantry to free someone who has already been sentenced to Damnation.” 

“I don’t have another choice. I won’t let them do this.” 

Micah fluttered a little closer to me, concern and sadness filling his small face. “Are you hearing yourself?” he asked. “I blame myself. I won’t let them do this. When did this happen?” 

“When did what happen?” 

“When did you start believing you knew better than God?” 

That gave me pause. I watched him, scanning his golden curls, his blue eyes. He felt sorry for me—I could see it. To him, I looked like a bird that had strayed off her path and needed to be coaxed back into line with the rest of the flock before she got lost.

But the way I felt inside? I couldn’t help but feel like I was already lost. 

“I’m sorry, Micah,” I said. “I’ve let you down. I’ve let everyone down. What Gadriel did was wrong, she shouldn’t have possessed a human, but we’re told to love them… how are we supposed to do that from all the way up here? The only reason she possessed another person was to be near the human she loved.” 

“I’m glad you can accept that she did something wrong,” he said, “But you haven’t done anything wrong yet. You are young, your command is new, and your heart is in the right place. I’m here to talk some sense into you before you do something you’ll regret. Something we’ll all regret.” 

“There has to be another way. She can’t just get thrown into hell for what she’s done.” 

“There is no other way—God’s word is law. You know that.” 

I looked across the way at the building beyond the courtyard. I had flown past it an infinite number of times. I knew what it was, what secrets it held within, but I had rarely been inside—and even then, I had never been to the detention cells hidden beneath it. 

The truth was, I had no idea how I was going to pull this off, how I was going to get her out. Even if I did manage to navigate the maze, find her, and extract her without being caught, where would she go that the entire Host of Heaven couldn’t find her? 

This plan had holes in it, but Gadriel was somewhere in there, locked up… and suffering. You see, it wasn’t enough to simply throw an angel into the pit and be done with it. The angel needed to be broken, first. They needed to suffer, to hurt, to know Heaven was around them and understand that they would never feel it’s warm embrace ever again. 

They needed to know what it was like existing outside of God’s love, to feel the pain they had caused Her.

And then, when they were at their lowest point, once the Light had been all but stripped from them… then, they were ready to be cast out into the eternal void. Damnation didn’t start in the pit—it started here, and no matter what Micah said, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything about it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. 

“Sarakiel, please,” Micah begged. “Don’t do this.” 

“You can stop me. I know you can. But if you understand what I’m going through, then you know that I have to do this. I have to get her out.” 

Micah took a deep breath in, then exhaled. “You’ve made your choice, then?” 

I looked back at the little Cherub floating behind me. “I have,” I said, blinking back a tear. 

The Cherub’s lips fell, his throat worked silently, inaudibly, his eyes glistened. In that moment, I knew I stood on the opposite side of an invisible line, and that I had broken his heart. 

“You remind me of him, you know,” he said, after a pause.

I angled my head to the side. “Remind you of who?” 

“The First. You sound just like him.” 

My insides went cold. “No,” I croaked. “No. I’m nothing like him.” 

“I was there, Sarakiel. Lucifer was an idealist, like you. He questioned God’s orders frequently, and often did what he thought was right, even if his actions went against Her will. If you were to have heard him speak, you would hear yourself now. Like you, he thought he knew better than God… he didn’t, and his punishment is everlasting.” 

“Lucifer was vicious, reckless, and dangerous, and God was right to do what She did to him.” 

“Yes, and if I let you go any further, your fate might be as his. I can’t allow that.” 

Movement caught my attention. It wasn’t a thud, or a knock, or the shuffling of feet, but the beating of wings — huge, powerful wings. Turning around, my throat tightening, my heart hammering inside of my chest, I watched as a mighty figure descended from the night sky. He was wreathed in fire, clad in gold, and in his hand was a sword made of the purest Light. 

With eyes that burned like the first, primordial stars, he gazed upon me. The Archangel Medrion. His sword arm raised, its luminous tip aimed at my throat, and with a voice like the roar of a thousand lions he spoke.

“You will go no further, Sarakiel,” he commanded. “You are in my hands, now.”







Chapter Two

The Archangel Medrion wasted no time. With a vice-like grip, he grabbed my arm and yanked me, wordlessly, toward the Chantry building. Micah tried to protest, begged the Archangel to stop, to let me go—I only needed to be deterred, not imprisoned.

But Medrion was having none of it.

He wasn’t interested in Micah’s words. He had no time for my struggles, my demands that he let me go. All he wanted to do was throw me, a far lower angel, into a cell to make me think about what I had done. And as the wreath of flames and light that surrounded him died down, and I saw his true face, I realized.

He almost seemed happy to do it.

He had a smirk on his lips as the Chantry Guardians parted to receive us. His eyes narrow and sharp, his chest puffed out, his chin held high. Medrion dragged me as if I were some rabid animal on a leash and he, my master, was the hero of all for having stopped me before I could hurt anyone.

Medrion barked at one of the Guardians by the Chantry door, and the angel came into the building after us. The other was told to keep Micah out of the building. Though the Guardian following us seemed a little confused by what was happening, he dutifully accepted the Archangel’s commands and fell into step with us.

It was beautiful in here—the building’s inner, pearlescent walls shifting with the bare light coming from little candles and the occasional burning sconce. There were columns, and arches, all gold and white. The fountain at the heart of the ground floor, which during the day danced, and glittered, lay dormant, and quiet. 

All that could be heard were the Archangel’s powerful footsteps, and the sounds of my struggles. 

“Let me go!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the Chantry’s walls and shooting off into its domed ceiling. 

Medrion ignored me.

When I spotted a column we were about to pass by, I reached for it, and wrapped my other arm around it. He was a lot stronger than I was, but the resistance I had put up made him pause for an instant, causing him to cease his relentless march. 

He turned to look at me, and while the fiery aura he had presented when he first landed was gone, I could still see it in his eyes—his blazing, orange eyes. 

“Could you give me a moment to explain myself?” I asked.

Medrion regarded me cruelly, his lip turning up into a sneer. “You dare?” he simply asked, with a voice that made my insides sink into the floor.

“You can’t just throw me into a cell like this. I’ve done nothing wrong.” 

The Archangel’s eyes narrowed further. His grip on my arm tightened, and this time, I really thought my wrist was going to snap under the pressure, but I didn’t have much time to think about it. He wound back one of his arms, and back-handed me across the face so hard my head flew into the column I had been holding onto.

I saw stars. The world started to spin. Lights flashed and danced in front of my eyes, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I wasn’t even sure how I had gotten to the detention cells, but I regained my senses when I fell to the floor and I heard the slamming of the cell door behind me. 

My face was hot, and the points of impact were throbbing. Turning my head, I saw the back of Medrion’s wings as he marched out of the detention center, leaving me alone and in the company of the Guardian who had followed us from the door. 

Though he had watched everything so far, he had said nothing. 

I picked myself up and moved toward the cell doors, cradling my cheek with one hand. I was in pain, it was cold in here, and dark, and I had no intention of staying. I grabbed hold of the bars and looked to the Guardian keeping watch. He wasn’t looking directly at me—his eyes were fixed dead ahead, like they were supposed to be. 

When I called out to him, though, he side-eyed me, breaking protocol if only for an instant.

“Guardian,” I whispered, “Please, I need your help.” 

The Guardian said nothing, but I could tell he was struggling to keep his light, brown eyes off me. 

“None of what just happened was right,” I said, “Even Archangels can’t just throw us in here without orders from On High. I want to see Micah, the Cherub that was with me. Please. Micah can help… are you listening to me? I’m a Lightbringer! You can’t just leave me in here!” 

“It won’t work,” came a soft, meek voice from somewhere in the dark. “They won’t listen.” 

I paused, my insides going cold all of a sudden. Swallowing hard, I slowly craned my neck around my shoulder. “Gadriel?” 

“Yes.” 

She sounded distant, and small. I couldn’t see her. There were other cells in the detention center, but it was so dark in here, it was hard to see anything other than the light in the Guardian’s eyes catching on bits of his golden armor.  

“I can’t see you,” I said.

“That’s for the best,” came her reply, soft, and weak.

I moved deeper into my cell, toward the prison’s outer wall, but I still couldn’t see her. Rolling my shoulders, I shook out my wings, and with a deep breath, channeled my Light through them. The Light was the source of our power, the force that bound us, animated us, empowered us. We were beings of pure Light, and we could make that power manifest itself in different ways. 

What I needed right now was to see, so I concentrated on creating a halo of light to radiate from the space between my wings, but it didn’t work. Instead of finding my Light when I reached for it, I felt cold, numbing darkness… and then nothing.

“It won’t work,” Gadriel said. “This place takes away your Light.” 

“What?” I asked, “How?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Her replies were short, and stunted, as if she didn’t want to speak. I pushed my hand through the bars between cells and tried to reach for her, but what I touched recoiled from me. I heard a shuffle of feet, and hands, and wings. 

“Don’t,” she said. “I don’t want you to see me.” 

“Gadriel… what have they done to you?” 

“What they were supposed to. I am bound for the pit, Sarakiel. You know what that means.” 

I knew what it meant but knowing a thing and experiencing it were different. She shuffled again, and this time, I thought I saw her cheek despite the gloom. An image of her face as I remembered it played in my mind as she turned. She was beautiful, fair skinned, and lithe. She had piercing, sharp blue eyes, hair the color of night itself, and dark wings to match.

Gadriel was an arrow. A Seeker, an angel with the gift of finding things, people, and places that were lost. She was my Seeker, and she was the best I had ever seen. Quick as the wind, nimble, agile, and curious. That was one of the things I loved about her the most—in our curiosity, we were sisters.

But the flash of memory faded in an instant, only to be replaced by the darkened impression of a mistreated woman. Her cheek was swollen, her eyes glistened, and even in the dark, I thought I saw blood on her face. My stomach churned, anger now welling up inside of me; anger dancing with grief, swirling together to become rage. 

“Who did this to you?” I growled, my voice low. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“Please, tell me.” 

“Why? There is nothing you can do. I broke the rules, and I am being punished for it.” 

“You fell in love! That is not a crime!” 

“It is to them. It is to Her.” 

“Gadriel, please… you have to fight.” 

“I can’t. Not anymore. I think… I’m ready.” 

“No!” I grabbed the bars and pulled myself to them, pressing my body against them as hard as I could, as if I thought I could merge with them and push through them. “Don’t say that, Gadriel. Don’t let them break you! If they can’t break you, they can’t send you to the pit.” 

“I am already broken, Sarakiel. I don’t want to exist anymore… but that is not your fault.” 

I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead against the bars, silent tears streaking down my cheeks. “Don’t do this,” I begged.

“I know who you are,” she whispered. “They will tell you that your heart is what makes you weak, but you have shown me nothing but love at every turn. I promise, I will take that with me and keep it safe for all eternity.” 

“Please. There has to be a way.” 

“This is the only way.” 

I felt her hand come reaching out of the darkness and go searching for me. I still couldn’t see her properly—there were only impressions, glimpses, flashes of blood, and tears superimposed on the image I held of her in my mind; an image that was starting to crack.

I took her hand and squeezed it. It was cold, and frail, and thin. Not lithe, but thin. She was a shell of her former self. “Don’t mourn me, Sara,” she said, “I felt love, real love. I don’t have any regrets.” 

I broke down, then. I couldn’t hold it any longer. The pain, the anger, the tears, all came rushing out of me in an uncontrollable flood. It was like an out-of-body experience, as if I were standing beside my body, numbly and coldly watching myself sob. 

The door to the detention cells suddenly burst open. The room filled with light, forcing Gadriel to retreat toward the back of her cell. I saw her now, fully, as the Light behind Medrion’s wings flooded her cell. Grief wanted me to look away, but anger forced me instead to look on, to witness the damage they had caused. 

It wasn’t just her spirit they had broken, but her body too.

I rushed toward the edge of my cell, grabbed the bars, and stared at Medrion. Anger burned like a furnace in my chest, and against the welt on my cheek. “Who did this to her?!” I snarled. “Was it you?” 

The Archangel Medrion watched me for a moment, his burning gaze turned to me. I saw the light in his eyes begin to dim, just enough to let our pupils lock. There was no compassion in him, no mercy, no love. There was only a glimmer of malice in the way his lips curled, and a hint of satisfaction in the glint of his eyes… which he quickly brought to bear on Gadriel.

“It’s time,” he simply said, and the door to her cell burst open by itself.

Gadriel, weak through she was, picked herself up. She was wearing a white rag that was stained black, brown, and red, she had marks all over her body, and cuts on her face and neck. She didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, she looked over at me, and smiled, weakly. 

“Remember me,” she said.

“Gadriel, no!” I yelled, and I pulled myself away from the door to my cell and raced toward the bars between ours. The light in the room suddenly intensified, and I felt an invisible force slam against my chest with such strength, it picked me up and hurled me into the opposite wall. 

I hit it with my shoulder, and then slammed into the ground. Flowers of pain bloomed all over. I tried to get up, but that same force which had slammed me into the wall now pinned me to the ground, pushing me lower, and lower. As much as I tried to resist, eventually, my arms gave out, and I hit the ground.

From where I lay, I could see Gadriel moving. She was walking toward Medrion, though shuffling was a better word. Just as she reached him, he grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her the rest of the way out of the cells. Her staggering out of the room was the last I would ever see of her, because I knew where she was headed.

The pit.

It was over.

“You,” Medrion barked, his voice filling the cells just as his Light had. “Lightbringer,” he added, contempt in his voice.

I struggled to find his face with my eyes from where I lay, but I did my best to look up at him. “Don’t do this,” I croaked.

“It is done. And you are next.”








Chapter Three

I was left alone with my thoughts after Medrion shoved Gadriel out of her cell. I didn’t know where exactly she was being taken, or what the pit even looked like. I doubted if anyone did, except of course for the Archangels whose solemn duty it was to hurl their fellows into it.

He didn’t look solemn to me, though.

I couldn’t get the look in his eyes out of my mind. I had seen Archangels before now, and those days had always been as wonderful as they were rare. Archangels were truly radiant beings, leaders among angels, some of the oldest of our kind. Visionaries, warriors, protectors, scholars, and everything in between; Archangels were in charge of Heaven’s highest operations, ensuring the system’s most vital functions worked as they should.

They were heroes. Rockstars. The best of us. They exemplified everything an angel was supposed to be, and what each of us meant to become. Never in my entire existence would I have thought they were also jailors and executioners… and that one of them might enjoy sending angels to the pit.

All I could do as I sat in my cell was hope I was wrong and wait.

Wait until something happened. Wait until someone came into the room, a change of the guard, maybe, or possibly another angel sent to brief me on why I was here, and what was to become of me. I hadn’t broken into the Chantry. I hadn’t freed Gadriel. I hadn’t broken any rules, and yet, I had been imprisoned. 

Someone had made a mistake, I hoped.

I was sure that whoever was responsible for deciding who gets imprisoned would walk into the room at some point and get me out of here, because I didn’t know how long I would last in the numbing dark.

The problem was, this place, these cells, were a pit of their own. The Guardian in the room didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t answer questions. He didn’t interact with me in any way, save for the occasional glance. Nobody came to relieve him, nobody came to talk to me, and lacking any windows, I couldn’t tell whether it was day or night.

It was dark, almost impossible to see. No noise entered the room from the outside, and yet I could feel the presence of an outside, if that made any sense. There was no bed, nowhere to sit but the floor. I couldn’t get comfortable in here. Occasionally I would feel as if I was being pinched by small needles, despite there not being any around.

So, I waited, shifting positions, going from one corner of the room to another, from standing, to sitting, to standing again.

My mind started running in circles, flashes of Gadriel’s slender face against the light of the burning sun above peppering my thoughts. She was always smiling in my memories, if silently. I wondered where Micah was, if he had been told to leave… if he would be coming back. 

I thought of the other angels under my command. Hamma, my Guardian. Veriel, my Oracle. Zephon, my Trumpet. We angels all served different functions in Heaven, and on Earth. Zephon, a Trumpet, was the only one of us strong enough to hear God speak, the only one of us who could without his head exploding.

The Word once given, Zephon would then bring it to me, the Lightbringer of the group. It was my job to interpret Her Word, and then decide how best to carry out Her orders. If, for example, we were told to protect a human from harm, Veriel would determine how harm would befall that human. Gadriel would find them, wherever they were on Earth. Hamma would then swoop down at the last moment, invisibly, and shield the human from whatever grisly fate awaited them.

If there was demonic influence at work, it was also my job to exorcise it before leaving.

There were many groups like ours, each tasked with protecting various important humans and ensuring they never entered Heaven before their time. We were the architects of fate, blessing a bloodline here, saving someone else there. They would never see us; would never know we were there—but we were.

Always.

I was new to my position. The group under my command was my first command, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t done everything God had asked of me. Every last one of Her orders had been carried out quickly, and efficiently. We had never been seen, had never made a mistake, and we had never caused a problem.

At least, not until Gadriel… I shook my head. It still wasn’t her fault. 

We were told. We were all told. God’s First Commandment is that we should love humans with everything that we are, everything that we have. Her Second, and final Commandment was that we should never interfere with their lives unless specifically ordered to do so.

Gadriel… she had fallen in love with a human, and she’d broken another couple of rules by possessing another one in order to get close to her love for a while. A slap on the wrist, sure, I would understand that. But the pit? I’d heard stories about that place. We all had. It was our cautionary tale. A literal pit where broken angels were thrown, discarded, and left to rot away to nothing.

I couldn’t imagine a worse place.

The door to the dungeon—that was what I had decided to call this waiting room—opened without warning, letting warm, golden light filter in. It was warm, and inviting, but it had come so suddenly, I recoiled from it like a frightened beast. 

The Guardian by the door turned to face the newcomer. We were both surprised to spot a small, baby-like Cherub come fluttering into the room. “Micah!” I yelled, my heart surging. I raced toward the bars. “Finally!”  

The Guardian rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I have been instructed not to let anyone in, except for the Archangel Medrion.” 

“Stand down,” Micah said, “I have authority here.” 

The Guardian seemed to relax, but not fully. The situation was still tense, at least it was until Micah came fluttering over to my cell doors. “I’m glad to see you in one piece,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I be in one piece?” 

Micah paused. “You were brought in three days ago.” 

“What? How has it been three days?” 

“Time works differently the closer we are to the pit, and to Earth.”

“Nobody told me that.” 

“Because you didn’t need to know.” He shook his head, paused, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sarakiel. I had no idea it would come to this.” 

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re here to set me free, right?” 

Another pause. “When I summoned the Archangel, I thought he was going to simply teach you a lesson about meddling in God’s affairs. I didn’t think it would lead to this.” 

A cold block of ice sank into my stomach. “Micah… I’m going to need you to explain things to me properly.” 

“You’re going to the pit.” 

The block of ice suddenly grew spikes and exploded inside of me. “The pit? What are… how? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop them.” 

“Wait, are you telling me this isn’t some kind of joke?” 

“I wish it was. I don’t know how this happened.”  

I stared at the Cherub, my gaze hopping from his left eye to his right, then back, again, and again, and again. I almost couldn’t think. The pit? No. They’d made a mistake. They had to. “How… I mean, why? Don’t I… get a trial, or something?” 

“Under normal circumstances, yes, but these aren’t—”

“—hold on, wait. What are you actually trying to tell me?!” 

Micah shook his head, the little Cherub’s blonde curls waving gently with the motion. He was sad. I could see it. I could feel it. The weight of his guilt hung heavily on his child-like face, and it hurt to look at. Even though I was the one on the other side of the bars, I felt like I needed to console him, to comfort him.

“It’s all my fault,” he said. “I summoned Medrion. He heard what you said, decided you were guilty of conspiring to release the condemned, and single-handedly made the decision to have you thrown into the pit.” 

“And he was just allowed to do that?” I asked. I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, could hear the breaking of my voice. I was shaking.

“He brought his case before God… and She approved.”

I grabbed hold of the bars and held them so tightly my knuckles turned white. “That… that bitch!”

The rumble of thunder pushed through the cells with enough force to shake the bars. 

“Watch your language!” Micah hissed. “Need I remind you where you are?” 

“You just told me I’m about to get thrown into the pit because some Archangel decided it. I hardly think blasphemy is going to make my prospects any worse. And God can get annoyed all She wants—I’ve been sentenced without trial. This isn’t right, Micah.” 

Micah lowered his head again. “It’s not. I have to agree with you. Things have been getting worse ever since...” 

“Worse?” 

“I’ve already said too much.” 

“Micah, please—you have to help me. You said yourself, this is wrong.” 

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do. You have to believe me when I say that.” 

“What? You’re a Cherub! You can open this cell right now and get me out of here, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” 

“The order came from God. I can’t go against Her wishes.” 

“Yes, you can. If I can, so can you.” 

“Cherubs and angels are different beings. I’m incapable of going against Her desires and forced to ensure Her Commandments are upheld. That’s why I had to summon Medrion when you chose to continue on your quest to liberate Gadriel. I didn’t want to do that… you have to understand.” 

“This can’t… this can’t be happening.” I stepped away from the bars and ran my hands through my hair. “It can’t.” 

“Sarakiel, please…” Micah pressed himself against the bars, his hand extended. “Please, forgive me.” 

“Forgive you?” I hissed. “Forgive you? You’re the reason I’m going to the pit!” 

He shook his head. “No, Sara—you are. This is a problem of your own making.” 

“Why do you want my forgiveness, then?” 

“Because in the short time we knew each other, I like to think we became friends. The thought of losing you, the thought of where you’re going… it weighs heavily on me.” 

“Right… you want absolution.”

“I do. I never meant for this to happen. I was trying to help you.” 

Damnation starts here, I thought, my own voice rising from within the panicked recesses of my mind. If they can’t break you, they can’t send you down there. 

I could see it on the little cherub’s face. The pain, the disappointment, his mounting grief. He was already hurting, and I realized, he was right. He had only been trying to help me. I had decided to break the rules, and I was about to be punished for it. 

Yes, I was angry, yes, part of me wanted to make him sit in his pain, but that was the call for vengeance—and it would be my ultimate doom.

As long as I was here, there was a chance I could stay. All I had to do was fight, resist, and not let them break me the way they broke Gadriel. I would show them I could do this. I wasn’t going to simply let them throw me into the pit. 

Not Micah. 

Not Medrion. 

And certainly not God Herself.

“You have it,” I said to the Cherub, taking his hand and squeezing it.