BwA: Chapter 4 - The Past Haunts

 The angels had come, she knew they would. Ralael had told her they would because his love for her was forbidden and the child in her womb considered an abomination. Four had come, two held Ralael on his knees, the third held a pregnant but struggling Fylfawen by her arms. The fourth had removed his sword from his hip. Penelope, only little more than two, was sleeping in a crib. None of the commotion was waking her.


"Ralael!" Fylfawen shouted. Her face was tear streaked. "Please, forgive him." She begged the fourth angel, the one who seemed to be leading the group.


"Ralael, for your transgressions against Heaven, you are sentenced to eternity in Oblivion," spoke the echoing fourth angel.


"Anything, just spare their lives," Ralael's own voice echoed back. "Please!"


"She will be spared, but your child cannot be born."


"Nooooo!" Ralael shouted amongst Fylfawen's screams as the fourth angel plunged his sword into her rounded abdomen. He jerked it back, no blood, no wound, not even a tear in the cloth of Fylfawen's gown. The angel that held her, released her and Fylfawen fell to her knees sobbing, clutching her belly. 


She was suddenly alone. The four angels and Ralael were gone, they made no sound in their departure. Several days later, Fylfawen buried her stillborn daughter, Sherin.


"Xandria wake up," said the echoing voice of an angel. Xandria jerked and struck out blindly. Her fist was caught by a gauntleted hand. "You were having a nightmare." Xandria opened her eyes. Zazael was kneeling next to her, he had been trying to shake her awake from her dreams at the fire's hearth. It blazed hotly now with the angel so near. Zazael had dressed back in his armor, like his body, his armor was also repaired as if it had never been damaged. He had not covered himself with the cloak and he shined brightly in the dull room.


"You stole my daughter from me! Damn you!" Xandria lashed out at him again, he blocked the oncoming punch but did not strike her back. She fought him, attempting to strike him with her fists, he blocked every blow but did not hurt her. He eventually pinned her arms to her sides.


"I am sorry, Xandria," he said softly to her. She stopped struggling with him and sobbed. Xandria had not cried like that since the angels had taken Ralael and her daughter's life. Zazael held her and said nothing until she stopped and pushed away from him, but this time there was no malice in her actions towards him. Xandria wiped her eyes and buckled the sword on her hip. Zazael had replaced the sword he'd given her with the one the skeleton had carried. At the angel's grasp it now appeared finely crafted, polished so that it gleamed like the rest of his armor. She noticed now that the hilt was made to look like a sun, and etched in the blade were shafts of the sun.


"The skeleton was one of the Holy Order. They used to have a monastery here," Zazael explained, seeing her eye the sword. "I believe the culprit of the risen dead can be found there." He pulled the cloak around his shoulders, his wings laying down and curling around him. As the thick cloth covered his armor, the room grew dim.

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