Angel’s Covenant

Angel’s Covenant

By: Tommy Ngan

Heaven’s finest has fallen.

Thought his fate has been set in stone

It has yet to be set in the stars…

Book I

Fugitive

Prologue – Three months before the present

Nestled between distant mountain peaks sat the setting sun, its waning warmth melting the clouds into gaseous amber. Gusts of cold air pushed the clouds against floating mountain peaks like the ocean surf breaking against sandy beaches. But the mountains drifted far above the terrain below. Like nebulae giving birth to stars, these amber clouds somehow gave birth to these floating mountains. And for however briefly, nothing disturbed Heaven’s solitude.

From this high above the world, Heaven’s Ghost felt most free. Two decades of lies and years of guilt forced his neck down. Ice crystals formed across his black hair. Without using his hands, the hood of his tabard rose over his forehead. Sepia light swept over his obsidian eyes and the particles of ice melted. He stood atop the world on a bed of clouds, telekinetically keeping afloat. Though not the youngest Angel, the more experienced Archangels didn’t underestimate his abilities. Sunlight froze against his saffron skin. For millenniums, this war against Enya had been fought silently. Fear kept everyone silent. Only his intervention startled her crown. While he stood far from the ensuing battle he was not alone. From behind, his shadow separated a pack of griffons.

Each griffon hunched forward at three meters. If allowed to stand upright, their height would increase an extra meter. Golden feathers laced across their bodies and shimmered in the sunlight. Talons capable of tearing apart Archangels’ wings delicately held onto the clouds. Their very physical prowess overshadowed Heaven’s Ghost, yet he didn’t shudder.

“I could kill you all with a single stroke,” said Heaven’s Ghost, his voice commanding a power stronger than those he subdued. Savoring this moment before he joined his army, his knuckles turned whiter than his ragged tabard. The griffons’ salivating growls quickly muffled into helpless whimpers. Whether he burned in hell’s polluted oceans or vanquished from existence, the war will end tonight. With a slight jerk of his head, he released the beasts and they tore past him in v-formation. From their hardened shoulders branched out their wings. With each flap of their wings, the clouds broke. Griffons knew all too well an immortal’s weakness. The first to go to hell were the Angels, their lack of close combat experience making them easy targets. Archangels fell second, although their ability to create explosions with their telekinesis kept them alive longer. Only the strongest survived, though many would rather be in hell than here.

No matter the viciousness of the griffons, the Seraphs awaiting them were by far deadlier. Far stronger than Archangels who create explosions, Seraphs could paralyze life to the point of instant death. Heaven’s Ghost simply yawned without much enthusiasm. He readjusted his reverse grip on the most iconic sword ever created. With a blade crafted from Seraph feathers and a slightly curved hilt, the value of the sword measured beyond its aesthetic beauty.

Six wings swept over Heaven’s Ghost and he leapt off the cloud bed just before it combusted. Sunlight set an ambient flame along the edges of the Seraph’s white wings. Deep shadows formed from the tears of his ragged tabard. Not a single drop of blood or physical wound marked his flesh.

“Her Majesty requests the Xeliri.” His reached outwards and a row of feathers followed his arm.

Heaven’s Ghost brought the Xeliri forward with grace as if the sword was his own. Still held in a reverse grip, he angled the sword defensively. He couldn’t decide whether courage or sheer ignorance brought this Seraph here. Probably the former. Enya would expend anyone to get the sword.

“You do not deserve the Cardinal Death.” Heaven’s Ghost rotated the Xeliri and brought his thumb against the dull edge of the blade. “Do not force me to end your existence.”

“Her Majesty demands deliverance.”

“Then I shall be the one who delivers.”

The Seraph’s eyes drew to the Xeliri. With eyes focused on the blade, he caused the air to explode by Heaven’s Ghost. As he recovered from the surprise attack, three feathers sped at him. Sometimes it felt like the Xeliri moved without his command. There came moments when that saved his life. This was not one of those moments. Just as the he deflected the first feather, gold flames burst from it. The Xeliri bent inwards before slipping from his fingers and he cringed as his ribcage cracked.

Ignoring the pain, he turned to the Xeliri. Two telekinetic forces reached for the sword and Heaven’s Ghost remembered the other two feathers. Instead of challenging the Seraph’s strength, he pulled away and telekinetically caught one of the feathers. There wouldn’t be much time before both the feather would explode and he lost the Xeliri’s power. The Seraph charged forward, hoping to meet the Xeliri, but he came to a halt. Buried deep in his chest burned the feather meant to weaken Heaven’s Ghost. Just as the searing heat tore through his flesh, he watched the Xeliri and Heaven’s Ghost disappear into the horizon.

Whether or not they were his own soldiers, Archangels and Seraphs alike blasted away in his telekinetic wake. By the time anyone felt his attacks, Heaven’s Ghost was miles closer to Enya’s castle. His imagination ran wild with hopes of seeing her beg for mercy at the end of the Xeliri. She was different from other Seraphs. Perhaps her powers were constant, even without the Xeliri. A more sinister thought came to his mind: what was it like to die?

Yet none of these questions really mattered. Only when he took the throne and avenged his parents would he finally be freed. Heaven would be freed. Just as he saw the translucent limestone walls of Enya’s castle, filled with confidence of the Xeliri, pride created doubt. After all the battles he won and all the training he received, none of it could best Enya’s strength. Hopefully the Xeliri would give him the necessary edge.

At the heart of the floating archipelago stood Enya’s castle, dominated the five smaller islands surrounded it. Each one of the islands had a spiraling steeple reaching up to hold the sky. Platinum arch catenaries connected the five steeples to the castle’s terraces like bridges to uncertainty. Her castle produced a dominant shadow upon the western island.

Heaven’s Ghost found himself standing atop the northern arch, still ten miles from the castle. That distance was trivial. Within seconds he could touch the cream colored facades or stand atop the bronze spires. With such power he felt weights locking his ankles. Could this insecurity hinder the Xeliri?

“I am Heaven’s Ghost,” he reminded himself. Enya’s soldiers trembled at his name, including those mindless griffons. Three winged-shapes extended from his shadow. Apparently no one learned how to properly engage the wielder of this sword. With a quick spin and an outstretched hand, he stopped the Seraph. He was a bit older than the others, and Heaven’s Ghost only knew this because of his golden wings.

“You dare challenge he who commands this blade?” Heaven’s Ghost growled.

“You are misled by overconfidence.”

A sudden migraine pushed through Heaven’s Ghost and his telekinetic grip weakened. The air blurred around him and three spontaneous explosions knocked him against the arch bridge. Obviously the Seraph knew a simple push does not incapacitate him. Heaven’s Ghost kicked off the arch before a telekinetic push left a large dent in the stone. A second migraine shocked his mind, and ignoring it made it worse. The Seraph raised his hand again and Heaven’s Ghost read the attack. Before the air combusted, he redirected the attack to the Seraph. Diving forward, he grabbed the Seraph’s lapel and raised the Xeliri. As he swung down for the killing stroke, his hand froze. He grunted as he pushed against the telekinetic shield. Right when he felt the shield weaken, the Seraph launched an offensive attack and Heaven’s Ghost fell further away. Unless he wanted more company, Heaven’s Ghost knew he had to end this bout. As he fell hundreds of feet to the sky, he telekinetically pulled the clouds tightly into a cushion. He threw the Xeliri forward. The Seraph ducked under the blade as it grazed through his brown hair. He looked back for Heaven’s Ghost, but he already left the cloud bed.

No matter how powerful Archangels and Seraphs became, Heaven’s Ghost preferred being a wingless Angel. Those wings had their special properties, but with the extra body mass they were less versatile. Heaven’s Ghost reappeared behind the Seraph and pulled the Xeliri back. With his other hand, he twisted the Seraph around and drove the blade through his chest.

Paralyzing his entire body with the efficiency of a virus, but faster than death, the Seraph held his breath. Though he’d felt this pain before when he died as human, this anguish reminded him there was no heaven afterwards. He slumped forward as Heaven’s Ghost pulled the Xeliri from his body. Along with the exiting blade came his spirit, a web of gold light outlining his veins.

This wasn’t the first time Heaven’s Ghost saw this light. Many times executed Angels under Enya’s command, sending their spirits to a netherworld no one could find. It’s been a long time since he took someone’s spirit. Seeing it again made his skin crawl. This Seraph wasn’t meant to die. Instead, he carried on and gave the soul one last chance to reunite with the body.

He doubted if sparing this Seraph’s life redeemed him the slightest. Probably not. This war alone ended the lives of thousands, even if he killed them indirectly. God didn’t even have the power to save his soul. No one was going to hold his shoulders and tell him his sins were forgiven. He alone could attain redemption, and hopefully Enya’s death would save his soul.

With only a few yards to cover, the Xeliri quivered in his hand, but that wasn’t his own doing. Even a calm river involuntarily rippled. That disturbance came from the Xeliri’s rightful master. As if retaining a hidden subconscious, the Xeliri forever trembled near Enya. Heaven’s Ghost tried to calm the sword from rattling, but that only enticed the spasms. A sudden calm weakened the Xeliri, yet Heaven’s Ghost continued facing the translucent walls. Unfortunately the Xeliri couldn’t let him see through solid objects. Through the layers of transparent glass, he could feel thousands of Seraphs waiting. Only one Seraph concerned him though.

“Still seeking to avenge the forgotten.” Somehow Enya’s voice startled him more than feeling ice against the back of his neck. Even the air felt more still, either out of fear or reverence. No one revered Enya. His sleeves flattened as Enya’s telekinesis coiled around his arms. For three millenniums she ruled this Celestial kingdom, but she didn’t appear much older than Heaven’s Ghost. Gravity shied away from her poised figure. Only the breeze caught the golden hair that ran the length of her bare neck. Her pale face only made her dark eyes ever more dominating.

“Yet you remember the reason I fight.” Heaven’s Ghost didn’t need to face Enya. He knew well the face of Heaven’s tyrant. With eyes closed, he could see her floating behind him in a golden aura. After fighting for so long, he was finally in her presence again. With her sword in his hand. Unlike those weak griffons he subdued, he feared what would happen if she opened her wings. Once again the Xeliri vibrated in his grasp reminding him the power she possessed. Taking a final breath, he called upon the Xeliri’s power. All his wounds healed instantly. Turning towards her, his telekinesis thundered from his palm.

Even without the Xeliri, Enya’s strength refused to falter. Storm clouds billowed beneath her feet. Telekinetic ripples brushed off her ash-white skin. She made no noticeable move, and Heaven’s Ghost slammed against the castle walls. Her powers showered upon the calm river that was Heaven’s Ghost. Overcome with despair, Heaven’s Ghost trembled to stand his ground. Drowning now, he screamed again as the Xeliri ignited one final time. Enya grimaced and crippled Heaven’s Ghost tightly. Thrice he slammed against the translucent walls, and by the fifth time he released the Celestial Sword. Bruises and shattered bones distracted him from reaching for the Xeliri. As he struggled to face the Xeliri, he felt the feathered-blade scrape against the bone in his shoulder. Sparks of electricity paralyzed his body as if thrown in a frozen lake. Color faded before his sight vanished entirely.