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Feeling like you were nothing and then suddenly being something was, without a doubt, a strange experience.
The transition from non-existence to being someone was confusing—utterly confusing. First came the sensation of presence, of feeling her own body. She didn’t know how, but she knew she had a body, and it was hers. Then came sight. Seconds felt like years when she finally opened her eyes.
The light was a welcome guest; it didn’t hurt her, for she knew it came from the flame that bathed the place where she stood. It was white and brilliant. Everything around her seemed to fit that description: luminous, over-saturated colors that would surely blind the unworthy.
But nothing happened to her. She knew very well that she was something... something divine.
"Welcome, my daughter."
A soft, gentle voice manifested, capturing her attention immediately. The entity before her made everything within her want to bow—and so she did. Still on the ground, not yet knowing how to master her limbs, she prostrated herself on the cold marble floor, pressing her forehead against the solid surface.
"Oh, you don't have to do that, dear. This isn't about me."
Large, slender hands settled on either side of her head, guiding her to look up and straighten herself. There, she could better see the being before her. She knew who it was; somehow, that information was planted in her very soul like a burning fire.
The golden being smiled with such love that it made her feel hesitant. The warmth radiating from its feathers and hands was beyond words.
"This is about you. You have just been created. How do you feel?"
She blinked and stood up immediately. Her body adapted to sensations with staggering speed, just as her mind shifted from confusion to clarity.
"I feel well, Your Majesty," she replied firmly.
The entity nodded, satisfied with her response, withdrawing its hands from her hair and resting them one over the other.
"My daughter, do you know the reason for your creation?" it asked, in the softest tone she had ever heard.
Of course she knew. It was written into her essence. It was her entire being. She hadn't been fully lucid at first due to the sudden transformation into physical form, but now she was fully aware of where she was and why she was here.
"I am a soldier," she answered. "My duty is to protect your divine mandate and defeat those who dare to challenge your authority."
The Golden Entity seemed somewhat melancholic at her words. She didn't understand why. She hadn't said anything outside of her purpose, her duty. Yet, the Spirit's expression did not look like that of someone delighted by her loyalty. It was an expression she couldn't quite categorize.
"Correct," it replied nonetheless, with a compassionate smile. "However, your existence goes beyond simply being a soldier."
An outstretched hand was the Spirit's invitation to lead her out of the creation chamber—the place where all soldiers are plucked from the light and transformed into physical beings for their task. To protect, to serve, and to strike.
It took her a few milliseconds, but she took the hand. As she did, the essence of the Speaker flowed over her body like a blanket. In an instant, they were elsewhere. It looked like an office, judging by the desk cluttered with papers and scrolls, not to mention the bookshelves and small decorations with translucent circular designs.
There was someone else there, too. A figure stood with their back turned, gazing out the large window behind the desk. They turned upon sensing the well-known presence of the Holy Spirit, appearing tense or nervous at the unannounced visit. The angelic being’s six wings flared open and then retracted.
"Your Majesty, I didn't expect to see you... so soon." The dark-skinned woman walked carefully toward them.
She was a Seraph. Her halos and wings indicated her rank. Even with her hand still held by the Entity, the new angel squared her shoulders to look presentable, to be worthy of standing before the Almighty and the Seraph.
"She is the newly created angel," the Seraph stated seriously.
She felt the Seraph's eyes analyzing her, peering into the deepest depths of her being.
"Indeed, my daughter," the Entity replied, placing its hands on the angel's shoulders. "A new life, a new being. Something wonderful."
She could feel the love and tenderness expressed by the Great Spirit. She accepted the words and affection without breaking her rigid posture or neutral gaze.
"Welcome," the Seraph said with a cordial smile. "You don't have a name yet, but don't worry. You will soon be given one befitting your task." She placed a hand on her chest. "My name is Sera, and as you likely know, I am the High Seraph."
"I know, Your Highness," she said. "I know my purpose: to be a soldier for Heaven. That is my duty. Whatever task you command, I will fulfill it with honor."
Sera nodded with a pleased smile. In contrast, the golden being wore that strange expression again. In a blink, it moved toward the new angel and knelt to be at eye level. It gave her a smile full of hope and a lingering, fond look, as if seeing everything she was truly capable of becoming.
"You will be a great angel. I know you will find your path, and I will await the day when you are much more than you believe yourself to be."
With delicacy, the Entity held her face and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. It felt as if the sun itself had touched her skin in the softest way possible.
As it pulled away, the Speaker gave her one last smile before returning to its original state, shedding its physical form and becoming one with the cosmos. Returning to God.
A brief silence settled in the room, lasting until the sound of fluttering wings and footsteps from the other person in the office broke it.
"I also expect great things from you, little one," the elder Seraph said gently. "Now, it is time for you to know the reason for your existence."
She nodded firmly. She had been waiting for this since the moment she ceased being vacuum and light and became a conscious angel. The Seraph opened the doors and walked into the hallways; she followed automatically.
"You are here because, millennia ago, the first human soul arrived in Heaven," Sera explained as they headed toward an uncertain area. "The younger Seraph tried to welcome him, but... given how he arrived here, it was difficult for him to assimilate his situation."
The angel nodded while processing the information, though it didn't seem related to her. Her purpose was to be a warrior; she didn't understand where the Seraph was going with this.
"The elders believed the best thing would be to create an angel specifically for him. Someone to help him and stay by his side. We thought of doing it right then, but something happened regarding... the abyss, the place where the outcasts are found."
She frowned slightly. Something in her memory knew what that referred to. The concept of good and evil. Heaven and Hell.
"With that event, the decision was delayed, and priority was given to increasing the number of warrior angels for the army. We couldn't allow Heaven to look vulnerable to an attack."
Then, she understood her arrival better.
"I thought that instead of just creating an angel for the human, I would make her a soldier as well. Someone capable of protecting the first human soul that came to us."
The hallways ended, and they stepped out into a sort of back garden filled with clouds. She caught sight of some animals hiding in the bushes at her presence.
"The higher-ups and I are still discussing what to do regarding Hell, but your duty is to be at that soul's side and be his shield. And if the time comes... to be his weapon. Understood?"
With her head held high and without hesitation, she replied, "Yes, Your Highness."
Sera stopped, causing the angel to stop as well. The Seraph looked at her with clear intent. The moment has arrived.
The elder raised her hand, and the cloud-like plants parted, bowing before her power.
There, among adult goats and kids, sat a brilliant soul in golden tones. He was oblivious to their presence, stroking the kid in his lap while other animals lay on the grass.
She analyzed his appearance. This human was her duty, her mission; she had to memorize every part of him.
Bright blonde hair like sunbeams, neither long nor short. His clothing was a simple white toga, like the clouds themselves, leaving one shoulder bare. His feet touched the vegetation with nothing in between. His skin was pink but with a dull undertone, as if he lacked enough color—as if he had lost what kept him alive by force. His eyes, as golden as his hair but darker, carried a heavy burden, marked by noticeable dark circles. Golden wings covered his ribs like another garment. And the halo above his head was tilted, for reasons unknown to her.
"Abel, son of Adam," the Seraph called with softness in her words.
The man’s wings shivered visibly, yet he looked up from his lap toward the elder.
"Sera," he greeted back. Lute noticed a gap in his teeth. Interesting. "I already told you, just Abel is fine."
She noticed the human glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but he quickly focused back on Her Highness.
"So... is something wrong?" He stopped petting the animal in his lap.
Sera approached, and naturally, the angel followed.
"I’ve come to introduce you to your companion and guardian angel."
The human's eyes widened slightly. "Guardian angel? But I—"
"You have isolated yourself from everything and everyone. You didn't even go to receive your father when he arrived." Even with the sweetness in her voice, it sounded like a reproach. "I know it’s hard for you to be here, but I am worried about you. Your father and your brothers are worried about you."
The blonde lowered his head, hiding his expression behind his bangs. Sera took a breath and stepped closer to the young man, gesturing for the angel to approach as well.
"That is why we believe someone should be there for you. Even if she only provides her presence. You cannot be alone. Not like this."
Abel raised his face again, and this time, he looked at her.
"Is she... going to follow me everywhere?"
Sera shook her head. "Not everywhere. You will still have your space for private activities or physiological needs, like resting," she said calmly.
The blonde seemed to consider it. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice. She was already standing right there in front of him. He couldn't just refuse.
"Alright," he replied, trying to maintain a nonchalant attitude. "I suppose some company wouldn't hurt."
The elder smiled, relieved. "I'm glad to hear it. From today on, you need not feel alone. You are in Paradise. You are safe here."
He smiled; Lute noticed his cheeks trembling from the effort.
"What's your name?"
She looked at him, not answering for a few seconds that seemed to make him uncomfortable, as he looked away and went back to petting the goat.
"I have no name, sir."
Abel blinked in surprise, either at what she said or how she had addressed him.
"She doesn't have a name yet. You must give her one. That way, your connection will be deeper," Sera said.
A name? He didn't give names; that was usually his father or...
"I... I'm not sure what to call her—I mean, call you. I don't know what to call you." He looked to Sera for guidance.
"I am sure you will find a suitable name," she said calmly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my duties."
"What? But—"
The Seraph was already gone in a flash of light, leaving silver particles in the air.
Silence fell over the garden. The animals turned their heads toward each of them, gauging who would speak first to break the tension. Abel found the branches of a nearby tree suddenly very interesting.
"Sir."
With a sigh, he set the small animal on the ground despite its protesting bleat, and turned his attention to the angel before him.
"Fine, look. I don't know what to call you, and I have no idea how this 'guardian angel' thing works. I just... I like being alone. I didn't realize thousands of years had passed since I last had a conversation with anyone."
"As a guardian angel, I must be there for you," she replied with a monotonous, serious tone. "My duty is to be at your side, to protect you. It is what I was created for."
He looked at her, confused and slightly uneasy. He didn't like the idea of someone being made specifically for him. It reminded him too much of the story of how his parents met, and he already knew how that ended.
The Seraph had treated this being the way he used to treat his livestock. It was strange.
He was fine. Playing shepherd and then sacrificing animals as a show of faith? Done. Spending years of his life dealing with animals and walking trails with predators lurking? No problem. Living up to the expectations of both angels and his parents? Piece of cake.
Letting his brother strike him repeatedly with a sharp rock until he died?
Yeah, better not to think about that.
The point was, he was perfectly fine. He had just lost track of time, and that had landed him in this unfavorable situation.
"Well, I’m sure you have other hobbies besides... everything you just said."
"No. I only serve to follow my purpose. And the purpose of my existence is you."
Okaaaaay. Yep, way too weird.
"Let's just think of a name for you, okay?" He really didn't want to dwell on what he'd just heard.
She nodded, still in her rigid posture with her arms behind her back.
"Maybe something related to your whole, uh, aesthetic," he said nervously.
Let's see. She was white as the clouds. Cloudy? No. Yellow eyes... maybe Auriel? No, he was pretty sure there was an angel with that name already.
Maybe he should just pick a random name and get it over with. But her fixed gaze on him made it impossible. She looked... expectant.
From the little he’d seen of her and the way she spoke, she seemed like she stepped right out of the military. Like she was a...
The name hit him like a ray of morning sun.
"Lute," he named her. "What... do you think?"
She looked at him and stepped closer, giving a slight bow that showed her loyalty.
"My name is Lute, and I will be your guardian angel. Nothing and no one will harm you as long as I am with you. It is a vow."
Those words were strangely comforting to Abel.
..................................................................
Things were changing.
Lute accepted her mission without hesitation, accompanying the human everywhere he went. Their most frequent destination was always The Garden—a small sanctuary inspired by the Eden that God had long ago destroyed. There were always people scattered throughout the area, but somehow Abel always found a way to distance himself from everyone, retreating to a far-off corner.
He seemed to get along better with the animals than with the other souls in Heaven. Lute didn't know exactly what was going on inside her master’s head, and in a way, that made her feel conflicted. This was new to her; she wasn't supposed to have any feelings other than complete obedience and neutrality regarding her task.
She told herself that if she understood the human better, her mission would be easier to bear. After all, she had to ensure his safety and help him in any way possible, no matter what.
On one of those many days in the now well-explored garden, she stood by his side like an escort: back straight, feet together, hands behind her back, wings retracted, head held high. She wore her proper uniform, retaining only fragments of her original armor due to a suggestion from the human regarding "comfort."
Abel was staring at the livestock as he always did, sitting on a rock that practically had his name on it at this point. His gaze was... lost. It was as if he didn't really see the animals, or anything in particular.
Then, he spoke.
"Do you get bored of me?"
She looked at him, confused. Before she could answer, the human spoke again.
"Do you think I'm miserable?" He never looked at her directly as he spoke; his golden eyes seemed to grow duller every day, matching the heavy bags beneath them. "I usually think I am. You've been by my side for... I don't even know how long. And you're always watching me as if I were... as if I were one of those animals."
With a sharp tilt of his head, he gestured toward the cattle. A joyless laugh reached Lute's ears, making her knit her brows.
"It's like being back on Earth," he continued, without knowing why. "Living under the gaze of the angels every solstice, feeling them judge every sacrifice I offered... hearing their praise at the expense of the work of..."
His voice trailed off into silence once more.
The breeze stirred the human's sun-kissed hair and the angel's long silver locks alike.
"I do not judge you, sir," she replied firmly.
Abel, accustomed to the title his companion refused to drop out of respect, turned his head to look at her. He looked at her with visible uncertainty.
"I am an angel, that is true. But I was not created to judge you. I was created to be by your side, to provide you with companionship and protection." She took a few firm steps to stand directly in front of him; he had to straighten up on his rock to look up at her. "I do not know what kind of relationship you had with other angels when you were alive, but I assure you that I will not look at you with expectations. I expect nothing from you; you have to give me nothing. I will be here without the need for anything in return. That is my duty."
Companionship. She was offering him pure companionship. No need for an exchange, no need to provide something to be useful. It was simple company, just for him.
"Sir?"
The alarm in Lute’s voice made him blink; she looked blurry. As his vision cleared, he noticed the desperation on her face.
"Sir, are you alright?! Forgive me, I... I spoke out of turn. I won't do it ag—"
Abel waved his hands in dismissal, wiping away the tears he hadn't realized were streaming down his face.
"N-no. It’s okay," he said, his voice trembling. "It’s just..."
Between his frantic companion and his current state, it was hard to find the right words. What should he say?
"Thank you." An involuntary smile formed on his face. "Thank you for... being here."
The silver-haired angel stared at him, stunned by his gratitude. He had no reason to thank her. She had only stated the facts and reiterated her task.
Lute's brow furrowed. Seeing tears on the human's face did something to her. An uncomfortable tingling sensation ran through her entire body at the sight. However, now that he was smiling and his posture was relaxed compared to a few seconds ago, the tingling felt different.
She swallowed these new sensations and buried them under layers of iron within her soul.
It was an afternoon where both, without realizing it, took the first step toward a deeper connection. Toward becoming something more than just a ward and his guardian.
Abel spoke more from that day on.
And Lute always listened.
..................................................................
Feelings and emotions were not something she was accustomed to; she wasn't built to feel. She was built to protect, to strike, and to serve.
But the golden-haired human didn't make it easy for her.
After that conversation at sunset, Abel seemed more comfortable in her presence. At first, he only shared whatever random thoughts crossed his mind.
"The clouds look like little sheep today."
"The cold is more bearable here."
"Sometimes I don't know what to do with these wings."
Simple things he mentioned, and she would respond with simplicity or brief explanations. Why the clouds could take certain shapes depending on the mood of the younger Seraph, Emily. Why the cold wasn't freezing, but a soft, fresh breeze. Explaining how he could use his wings, teaching him to move them with more confidence.
But there were also comments that intrigued her—some for better, some for worse.
"Mom used to say I was too talkative, sorry..."
"Sometimes I wonder, why me?"
"Let's avoid this area, let's just... go."
She told him his intensity was not a nuisance. She wanted to ask what he meant by "why me," but she remained silent upon seeing his dejected face. When they left the area at Abel's request, she later found out—through her own investigation, telling herself it was merely to understand the human's preferences—that it was the place where some descendants of the First Family resided. Even the First Man himself was at the center of it.
It was interesting to know; she would make sure never to venture near those parts in the blonde’s company again.
But after years of conversations and a strengthening bond, Abel decided to open up to Lute.
It was night. Both had been flying through the clouds, more as practice for Abel than a mere hobby. Even after thousands of years, he hadn't used his wings until Lute proposed training him to fly. Of course, she didn't intend to order him, but in her nature as a warrior angel, giving and receiving orders was ingrained in her being. To her surprise, Abel had been excited about it.
He had never explored the idea of flying. In a way, his wings gave him an unsettling feeling; having extra limbs he didn't know how to control made him uneasy. But seeing Lute so determined to teach him—and seeing her always gliding from one place to another when they weren't together or when she arrived from a meeting with Sera—helped him reconsider the idea.
Abel sat among the clouds. When he first arrived, he didn't think it was possible for clouds to be solid, but they were a mixture of softness, mist, and a firm layer underneath it all. Lute watched as he settled in, legs dangling over the edge of the fluff.
The human turned and, with a smile, patted the space beside him. She tensed slightly but approached and stiffly imitated his position.
Years may have passed by Abel's side, but with every close encounter, her body seemed to react in ways she wasn't used to.
In the silence, both gazing at the stars, he spoke—almost a murmur.
"Lute... do you know how I got here? To Heaven?"
The silver-haired angel said nothing at first. What was she supposed to say? She knew a few things; by this point, she had investigated the first human soul on her own. But it seemed to be a taboo subject among the high-ranking angels. Neither of the Seraphim had answered her questions—one out of ignorance, and the other out of "respect," in her own words. She could have gone to the Winners, human souls who should know the history of the first humans, but her rigidity stopped her. She couldn't just go around asking about Abel. She was always with him, except when he slept and she went to the center of the Ring to speak with Sera about his status.
"No," she replied.
Abel didn't seem surprised. In fact, he seemed calm.
"I see."
Silence. An invisible wall was building between them again, and Lute wasn't sure she wanted to break it.
These years at Abel's side had been... disconcerting. At first, she focused on being his companion, practically a shadow. Then came that day in the garden, and something more appeared. They talked more—well, he talked for her. But she always listened and contributed a thing or two to his ramblings. Years passed, and Lute felt less and less like a soldier following orders and more like... someone who felt. And that was wrong. She wasn't supposed to feel anything.
"My own brother killed me."
His words were like daggers, cutting through every thought in her mind.
"It was the day we were giving our offerings to the angels," Abel's voice lacked emotion; he pulled his knees to his chest, eyes fixed on the horizon. "The angels chose my offering over his. I felt so happy in that moment. I barely noticed he wasn't pleased."
Lute's brow furrowed as she listened.
"He took me to a field. I had turned around to look at something I no longer remember." A tired laugh escaped the human's throat. "Then, I felt something sharp and heavy against my head. I didn't realize I had fallen to the ground until I saw him, holding a rock covered in blood. My blood."
He slowly wiped his right eye and then looked at Lute. The resignation in his eyes caused a pang in her chest.
"He crushed part of my skull. And I couldn't do anything."
She didn't know how to respond. For the first time since her creation, she didn't know what to do.
Abel went back to staring at the horizon, his expression as hollow as his smile. Lute gritted her teeth; she hated this. It made her feel powerless. What Abel told her should have made her comfort him, tell him everything would be okay. But she couldn't.
Because she was furious.
To hear how a human—
No.
He was not worthy of being called human.
That... sinner. Like a vile, envious creature, he had caused the premature end of the golden soul beside her.
"Your brother is a pariah."
The words hissed through her teeth, making the blonde look at her with wide eyes. She continued, venting this new, bitter, and suffocating feeling.
"He is a disgusting sinner who deserves to burn in Hell."
It took only a few seconds before Abel burst into a laugh. Lute blinked, bewildered; she didn't understand why he was laughing, nor why his laughter sent warmth through her chest.
"I-I don't see the joke, sir."
Still laughing, he rubbed his eyes—tears that clearly weren't from sadness.
"Sorry, Lute. It’s just... I didn't expect you to say that!"
She felt heat rush to her face. She gritted her teeth while glaring at the human. She almost felt like hitting him. No, wait. She shouldn't think that. She was supposed to protect him, not hurt him. Ugh, everything was so confusing, and it irritated her.
"Don't mock me! It is a valid truth and you know it!"
His laughter subsided, and the blonde seemed calmer, in a notably good mood.
"Yeah, I think you're right," he said in total serenity, lifting his gaze to the stars.
She huffed but said nothing more, watching the stars above them.
She had learned new things. The reason for Abel's death, and why the High Seraph had told her in one of their meetings: "Wait for him to tell you himself."
She knew nothing of Abel's brother, but she was certain that if she ever found him, she would make his death slow and painful.
Lute was a shield, a companion. But she would never forget her true nature.
She was a weapon. The sword that dictates the fate of living or perishing. And now, she had a target in mind whose fate was already sealed.
..................................................................
Abel had never known his brothers.
This was because he had died long before his parents had any more children. When he finally decided to take the first step and visit the place where his relatives resided, there were only a few scattered words and moments of awkward silence. Fortunately, after the first few hours, a natural conversation began to flow. Lute observed the entire interaction from a moderate distance, mostly at her master’s request.
The real challenge came when Abel stood face-to-face with his father. The First Man. The human being who gave rise to all humanity. Lute noticed Abel’s discomfort and sharpened her gaze on the man standing before the blonde. She cared nothing for rank or reputation; if the father proved to be a danger to Abel, she would act in his defense.
One kept his gaze low; the other wore a deep frown. No one else in the room dared to breathe or make a sound.
That was until Abel, filled with shame and fear, looked his father in the eyes. Those eyes were golden, just like his own.
And just as tired.
The man grabbed his son by the arm. Lute tensed, ready to strike. But it wasn't necessary.
Adam didn't seize him for a blow or any violent action, as she had expected. No. It was quite the opposite. He pulled Abel into an embrace so tight it reeked of desperation—the hug of someone who had waited an eternity for something, for someone.
It was a poignant scene for the entire gathered family.
Seeing that there was no immediate danger, Lute returned to her guard position. She focused on the blonde’s face, searching for any detail she might have missed, or any sign that this situation was not to his liking.
She saw him cry, yes. She heard him sob until he let out a scream. She saw him cling to his father’s shoulders and tunic.
It stirred a contradictory sensation within her. Seeing him in such a state meant he was hurting; it meant he wasn't okay. It was something she should have prevented. But as she watched more tears and cries escape him, she noticed the tension leaving his body. Little by little, his erratic breathing grew calm.
He needed this.
So, this was what the Seraph meant by "helping." She didn't enjoy the process—she preferred the tranquility of the garden or the clouds at night. However, catching the faint smile on Abel’s face afterward, she knew this was necessary.
Lute felt a strange movement in her cheeks. It was odd, but she let it pass.
Abel noticed it, though he said nothing as they said their goodbyes and returned to their place in the Ring. He didn't say a word during the entire walk home.
He simply tucked the image of a smile away in his mind. It was the first time he had ever seen her smile.
That night, he went to sleep wit h a confusing warmth in his chest.
..................................................................
Humanity always had something new to show. It moved through various stages of its unfinished history, and Heaven adapted to each new era. Every century brought changes to accommodate the new Winners arriving at the golden gates.
And just like Heaven, a certain human also changed over the centuries.
Sera felt a sense of peace knowing that the first human soul was finally settling into the Ring. He had even made significant progress, such as reuniting with his family. Lute’s reports brought a smile to her face as she reviewed the events of the last few decades.
But this was only a small light amidst the sea of issues she had to manage. A light she would eventually have to dim due to matters beyond her control.
She took a breath and rubbed her temples. Hell grew more crowded every day with corrupt souls, and while Hell is practically bottomless, the real problem was the sheer number of souls at the First Woman's disposal.
The matter of Hell had been on the table for millennia. Ever since Lilith planted a loud and clear message at the border of both realms, Sera had to halt her usual activities to focus on how to solve the problem at its root. The Almighty’s counsel had been a blessing back then, bringing calm to the High Council.
The sinners had already tasted the power the First Woman had granted them. It was a latent danger that, sooner or later, would reach their gates, destroying everything she was sworn to protect.
She would not allow it.
Exorcisms seemed like a valid option, but they were only effective against demons on the mortal plane. Performing an exorcism in Hell would have no effect and would only endanger whoever attempted it. Any soul or divine being who spent too much time in the abyss would be swallowed by it. She had to reduce their time down there as much as possible to ensure the effects of Hell were minimal.
In one of her meetings millennia ago with the First Man, she had explained the situation and asked for suggestions. As the father of both Winners and Sinners, he should have had more empathy than she did. He was a human being; he ought to know.
She never expected Adam to suggest a purge. An extermination. He said it as if it were nothing, briefly and irritably explaining what it would entail.
Go down, kill as many sinners as possible, and return to purify the corruption of Hell from those who descended.
Those weren't his exact words, but that was the essence of his plan. Sera meditated on this. If the sinners knew they were at a disadvantage, they wouldn't rise up, no matter how much power they had. It was about keeping the enemy docile to guarantee balance.
With doubt clouding her mind, she went to a chapel. The stained-glass windows depicted major events in Heaven's history, as well as the sacrifices of old. She walked toward the altar, where nothing stood but a single beam of light. There was nothing to worship except the physical representation of the Creator—the One who, after years of watching humanity wallow in sin, had descended to Earth as a human. Now, Heaven felt His absence.
Standing before the remnants of the Almighty’s grace, she crossed herself and joined her hands in prayer. She waited, praying to hear His voice.
She received no answer.
Minutes passed, then hours, in the complete silence of the empty chapel.
Sera made a decision.
"I will do what is right. There is no other way."
With no opposition to her choice, she took the silence as permission for what she was about to do.
In God’s name, she would keep Heaven safe in His absence.
..................................................................
The two of them walked down the long corridor. The vast windows were the primary source of light for the entire structure. The soft clinking of Lute’s armor was the only sound besides the ragged breathing of Abel, who walked ahead of her.
With a new day before them, they were supposed to begin their routine—strolling through the gardens and perhaps planning a future visit to the human’s relatives. Lately, the bond within the First Family had been strengthening, and Lute always made sure to send a concise report on the events.
Like every night, she had gone to the castle at the center of the Ring. she presented herself as usual at the office of the High Seraph, Sera.
Lately, however, Sera had been neglecting her duties, shifting her daily check-ins to mere annual visits. This was due to Sera securing a place for Lute to stay in the same area where the human rested.
It wasn't necessary, but Abel had seemed deeply concerned that she should have a place to rest or spend the night, even though she had no physiological need for sleep. She didn't understand the reason for his worry; she had been without a space to call her own since her creation, millennia ago.
But Lute was not going to deny her master anything, no matter how foolish it seemed.
Regardless, she had gone to meet Her Highness. Upon her arrival, she found Sera at her desk, signing papers—a common sight for Lute. They exchanged the usual words. She presented her report; the Seraph took it, glanced over the contents, and set it aside. Lute waited for permission to leave.
It never came.
"Tomorrow, I want to see you and young Abel in the East Hall. As soon as the sun rises. I will be waiting for you."
Lute blinked in surprise. It was an order, and she would obey it, obviously, but that didn't change how abrupt it felt.
And that is what brought them here. Heading toward one of the many meeting rooms used by the angels. Lute knew of their existence and had passed them several times on her way to deliver paperwork or drop off pieces of her armor.
Abel, however, had never ventured this way.
He had been in the castle and its over-sized corridors when he first arrived. Emily, along with Sera and one of the Father’s forms—the Holy Spirit—had given him a tour back then. He hadn't returned more than a few times, usually at the requests of Emily, who in her infinite kindness tried to integrate him into Heaven. Those attempts only resulted in rejection on his part. He hadn't set foot here since Sera called him to introduce him to Lute.
There was something in the castle air. Even in his discomfort during his first visit, he could feel the warmth of the Creator. Now, however, that sense of peace was gone, leaving only the void and the coldness of the marble.
He had felt God’s absence for a few years now; surely everyone must have felt it. His father seemed more distant after that. Everyone seemed affected. Something about this meeting told him it was related, and it made him nervous. Something about this felt wrong.
Reaching the doors of the indicated room, he stood staring at them for a second. Then, one of them opened. Lute had pushed the door with one arm and waited.
"After you, sir."
Abel swallowed the suffocating sensation and entered. Lute followed, closing the entrance behind him.
The room was no different from the High Seraph’s office, at least in color—always whites, golds, or light blues and purples. It was a medium-sized hall, neither too large nor too small. A table sat at the end, near the panoramic view from the castle’s height. Two chairs were positioned there, and on the other side of the table, by the window, stood Sera.
"Welcome," she greeted, approaching the table with serenity. "Please, take a seat." She indicated with a gesture of her hand.
They looked at each other and took their places in the carved chairs—Lute with a rigid posture, Abel with a tense one. The Seraph followed suit, being the last to sit. First came the awkward silence, then the sharp words.
"I have considered an option to protect Heaven from the wickedness of Hell," she said. "And you two are an important part of my final decision."
Lute’s wings ruffled slightly at the mention of the pit where outcasts and sinners were cast. In an unconscious act, she glanced at the human out of the corner of her eye.
Abel’s expression was one of confusion and something else. Judging by how tightly he clenched his hands in his lap, it might have been fear. Lute frowned but looked back at Sera to keep listening.
"The First Man suggested an extermination." Abel’s eyes practically bugged out at the mention of his father, and even more so at the suggestion. "As you know, Heaven is suffering in the absence of our Lord. We are vulnerable to an attack should it occur. And with every new soul that arrives here, five others reach Hell. The numbers are significant—and unfavorable."
Sera paused. With a snap of her fingers, papers filled with signatures and documentation appeared.
"I consulted with the Elders, and we reached an agreement. The Extermination is a viable way to prevent sinners—who have already tasted the power of the First Woman—from rising up."
"You want to kill sinners?"
Abel’s voice caught Lute off guard. Sera, however, remained unfazed by the interruption.
"I don't like how it sounds either, but it is necessary," she replied with an unreal calmness.
"But—that’s madness!" he said, his voice trembling with either fear or indignation. "We cannot resort to violence, much less death, as a means of protection. Does God know—?"
"God is gone."
Abel clamped his mouth shut at that. But he did not stop expressing his refusal with his face.
"And until He returns, I must look out for the innocent souls. It is my duty to protect Heaven in His absence."
There was a crack in the Seraph’s composure, but she hid it quickly.
"Therefore, the two of you will be in charge of a division created exclusively for this matter."
"In charge? What specific role are you referring to, Your Highness?" Lute asked for the first time.
Abel looked at her with resentment. He couldn't believe she was so calm about all this. But he supposed it was in her nature; Lute was a warrior, after all.
"You will be young Abel’s right hand," the Seraph said, turning toward the human. "Abel, you are to be the leader of the division. Lute will support you with everything you need to know about combat and training your own soldiers."
The whole thing was utter madness.
"I... I can't—"
Abel’s hands flew from his lap in a hysterical gesture. "I can't do something like that!" he shouted, the fear finally breaking through. "I can't lead, much less kill! I—!"
The air felt like something he needed but his body refused to hold. His vision blurred, and he hung his head, covering his ears to block out the horrible ringing in them.
"Sir!"
Lute was at his side immediately, dropping to one knee to check on him. His pupils were shrunk, his eyes wide with panic. She noticed a golden liquid leaking from his nose. Angelic blood.
Sera seemed alarmed and stood to go to the boy’s other side. She didn't understand his reaction. She tried to place her hands on Abel’s face but stopped when she found herself pointed at by a sharp, grey-gradient feather.
Lute was glaring with intensity, aiming her feather like a weapon. She couldn't severely harm Sera—these were meant for defense and quick strikes—but her reflexes had acted first.
"I ask that you step back, Your Highness."
Sera looked at her in shock but retreated several steps.
Lute drove the feather into the floor with such force that it remained embedded. Then, she placed her hands, encased in metal gauntlets, over Abel’s face. She held him, forcing him to lift his lost gaze. The cold metal seemed to startle him.
"Sir, breathe. It’s okay. You are safe," she said firmly, staring into those unfocused golden eyes. "I won't let anything harm you. Come back to me."
He blinked once, twice, three times. With each blink, his vision sharpened. Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his ears and looked at her. Really looked at her.
"...Lute?"
"I’m here, sir," she replied, feeling the weight on her shoulders grow lighter.
Abel, with trembling hands, took Lute’s. The smooth texture of her gauntlets, the coldness of the touch. His muscles relaxed, and he let out a jagged sigh.
"I-I'm sorry, I..."
"Think nothing of it." Sera’s voice made them both look up. She wore a pained expression, one hand over her chest. "Forgive me. I should have assumed that, due to human instability, this might happen. It was my mistake not to measure my words. I only... wanted to be direct about the matter."
Lute let go of the human’s cheeks; there was no point in maintaining contact now that the crisis had passed. Abel’s hands squeezed hers for a millisecond before letting go.
She wanted to touch him just a bit longer; as soon as the thought arrived, she shoved it away. Rising from the floor, she grabbed the feather and returned it to its soft, ordinary state. Though she would be in trouble for driving it into the floor.
God, what had she done? Aiming at the High Seraph? That was practically treason, wasn't it?
Amidst her racing thoughts, she breathed to calm herself. It didn't matter. If she had to be punished or even replaced, she would accept it. She had committed an infraction.
But... her duty was to protect Abel. She had truly believed Her Highness was a danger in that moment.
"It’s okay." Abel’s voice pulled her back.
At some point, the blonde had stood up and was now facing the Seraph. The blood from moments ago was gone, though he looked at the golden substance on his fingers. Lute decided to focus; this was not the time or place to reflect on her actions or her future. Not that she should; everything depended on the Seraph now.
"I... I got lost in my head," he said, looking away as if remembering something, before taking a breath and looking at Sera with defiance and doubt. "But I am not the right person for such a position. Nor is this the right way to protect us."
Sera looked saddened by his words. She leaned in and took him by the shoulders with delicacy.
"Abel, you are the first human soul to reach Heaven. The first to ascend. Your soul is pure and filled with the Lord’s grace." Sera tried to make him understand. "Any soul that descends to Hell will be corrupted by the exposure to evil. That is why your role is so important. Your soul will not suffer damage, unlike the soldiers who will be contaminated over time. You must be that light in the darkness for them."
Abel gritted his teeth in helplessness. It wasn't fair. If the Seraph spoke to him like this, it was impossible to refuse. No matter how much he loathed the idea of... killing, he couldn't leave the position to someone else.
"I still believe God wouldn't agree with this decision," he said, his expression defeated. "But..."
The Seraph looked at him pleadingly.
"I accept the position."
It didn't matter; his destiny always seemed to be the same. To be covered in blood.
Whether it was his own, or that of others.
..................................................................
An army—that was what stood before him.
Rows and columns of angels in divine armor stood at attention, listening. They were alert to every command. The nerves and the slight twitch in his fingers were subtle, but noticeable to Lute by his side.
"I can handle this if you wish, sir," she offered.
Abel seemed hesitant but nodded. The warrior fixed her eyes on the recruits, searching for the slightest trace of a flaw.
Following the Seraph's order, no time had been wasted. As approved, more angels—soldiers—had been created. They used Lute's design as a blueprint; since she had already spent so much time alongside their leader and chief, the other angels would instinctively know their purpose and whom they were meant to serve. All it took was a bit of her blood and a fragment of her spirit for mass production.
"Attention!" she barked with authority. Every soldier squared their shoulders, listening intently. "You have been created for a single purpose: to protect Heaven. To achieve this, we must descend into the depths of the abyss and put an end to the putrid souls that dwell there. It is the only way to safeguard the pure souls who truly earned Paradise!"
She recited this without hesitation, completely certain of the cause. It was a direct order, and the High Seraph could not be mistaken; this had to be the only viable option. She had convinced herself of that.
Yet, she was still conflicted about the decision to place the human at the front of it all. He lacked the hardness of the warrior angels, the training, and the conviction. He was an easy target, and that was dangerous. But Sera had given her reasons for why it was necessary, and Lute could not refute them.
"Have I been clear?" she demanded, her voice ringing out.
"Yes, Lieutenant!" they all vociferated in unison.
Lute raised her head, pleased. She could not allow the Exorcist division to be weak; strength was necessary both for their mission and for the protection of their Commander.
With that said, it was time for Abel to contribute. Each soldier still needed to be named—given an identity. It wasn't mandatory, but the blonde felt it was necessary to differentiate each angel; it would be confusing to address them as 'Angel One' or 'Angel Six.'
Lute took a few steps back and, with a nod, gave Abel the floor. He swallowed; his mouth was dry from nerves, but he summoned his courage and took three steps forward.
Every pair of yellowish eyes fixed on him. It was suffocating.
"W-well... you must already know who I am, but—" he closed his eyes and took a breath; he could do this, it shouldn't be that hard—"I am Abel, and I will be the Commander of this entire... division."
Abel shot a fleeting glance at Lute, as if asking, “Now what?” She looked at him for a second before speaking loud and clear once more.
"Now, each of you will be granted a name. Cherish it for all eternity," she declared, imposing as ever.
The crowd seemed to stir with excitement, though it was only visible through the furtive glances they exchanged.
Abel had weighed the names he would give. He wasn't as gifted or natural at it as his father, but he could try.
That day, each of the Exorcists was baptized by the human. Every one of them received the gift of a name.
Lute watched as each angel, each sister, accepted her name with honor.
..................................................................
At first, Lute did not want to train Abel.
The very idea of hurting the human went against her original purpose; she was meant to protect him, not cause him pain. Even the thought of a single scratch on his skin was bothersome.
Yet, it was a direct order from the Seraph—once again. At this rate, she was beginning to notice a pattern in her discontent with Sera’s commands, but as always, she discarded the thought along with her emotions, locking them away.
And so, she took upon herself the task of training Abel so that, at the very least, he could defend himself in Hell. He also needed to learn how to strike, for as a leader, he had to be an example to all the others. Though, recalling his panic attack when he first learned he had to kill sinners... Lute could not guarantee it wouldn't happen again.
They had years before the first Extermination would take place. Apparently, even though the Council had approved the activity, there were still matters to resolve—such as the approval of Hell itself. That was bound to be difficult, considering this whole ordeal began with a rebellion by the First Woman against Heaven.
Lute didn't care; that conflict had occurred before her creation. She had heard bits and pieces from Sera, and later from Abel, after years of living together. According to him, there had only been a slight tremor in the clouds, but it came to nothing as God appeared in His form as the Holy Spirit to bring calm.
Thinking on it more deeply now, God had not returned to Heaven. He remained in the mortal realm; the Elders were likely still following His journey. She didn't know the details, but it seemed it was nearly time for His return.
What will God say about all this?
Lute wondered this several times. When she saw Abel confront Sera. When he named his army. When he trained for the first time and ended up in a panic attack, just as she predicted. When, after many bruises, he finally learned to dodge a blow. When... When... When...
There were so many times she asked herself that question, but it never went further than that. She couldn't allow herself to think this way.
Nor was it something she could voice. The High Seraph had been clear: this had to stay between them. No pure soul, no lesser angel—not even the younger Seraph—was to know. On that list, too, was the Almighty.
But God knows everything; He should be aware of this, she told herself.
She couldn't shake an image from her mind that made her stomach churn. The gaze of her Creator upon her.
Disappointed.
..................................................................
When the Son of God arrived in Heaven, everyone celebrated. It seemed as though life and warmth were once again becoming a part of the Realm. Upon his ascension, the Lamb of God became one with the Father; for both the Son and the Holy Spirit were God Himself—taking different forms, yet being parts of a whole.
Lute was impassive on the outside, even as she was ravaged by conflict within. Abel saw her.
He didn't know exactly what went through his mind; his body simply acted on instinct. His hand reached for hers. A startle—imperceptible to others but obvious to Abel—told him that she had felt the contact.
She did not turn to look at him; she continued watching as everyone welcomed the Creator. However, she gave his hand a squeeze as a sufficient response before releasing his soft grip.
The blonde felt a slight pang of discouragement, thinking he had been rejected in his attempt to provide a measure of peace.
Though he did not know it, something inside his Lieutenant softened at the gesture. She found herself wishing to feel it again, without knowing why.
..................................................................
Sera did not understand human reasoning; she could comprehend logic, but putting herself in the shoes of a mortal was beyond her reach. That was why she had tasked the First Man with dealing with his former life partner, regardless of how reluctant he had been when she ordered it.
Somehow, Adam had secured a deal with the woman a few years ago. Sera wouldn't ask how; she could only guess what kind of atrocities the first human had said to get Lilith to agree.
With that problem off the table, only the approval of the Fallen remained. That star who flew too close to the sun and burned in his quest for greatness, now nothing more than a charred rock.
Seeing the Morningstar again—the one who was once a younger brother to the Seraph—was difficult.
He looked... empty. His hands, now carbonized, tipped with sharp claws. His teeth, which had been straight and perfect when he smiled, were like daggers in his own mouth; it was surprising he didn't hurt himself simply by speaking. And those eyes, which had once been a beautiful sky-blue, were nothing more than two circles filled with sinful blood. Red.
"Lucifer Morningstar," she greeted out of courtesy.
"Sera," he replied with discomfort.
"You’ve read my letter, I presume."
"I have," the Devil said.
They looked at each other with feelings neither wanted to voice.
She sighed and, with a gesture of her hand, made papers appear upon the table.
"Then there is no need for me to explain. You already know what needs to be done." With gravity, she slid the documentation toward him; a golden quill appeared in the air nearby.
"Are the conditions I asked for in there?" he asked, grabbing the pen and frowning as he scanned the papers.
"Everything is written. If you do not trust me, you may read it yourself," she replied calmly; she wasn't lying. "You know this is necessary."
The demon didn't look at her, casting his gaze downward. The sight of his top hat made the Seraph feel a sense of revulsion—especially that red apple, taking the place of the old feather that used to be there.
A part of his punishment, I suppose. Or perhaps he simply wanted to mock his own actions. It made her want to scowl, but she remained serene.
"If anything happens to my daughter, I swear—"
"Your daughter will be safe from the exterminations," she interrupted to avoid unnecessary words. "Any Hell-born will not be involved. We are only going after the souls corrupted by wickedness."
"No need for the formal vocabulary; call them what they are," he said. "Sinners and monsters."
With that said, his hand moved the quill, signing the necessary documents. His signature glowed golden for a few moments before erupting into flames and dying out.
"I see you are aware of that."
"It’s hard to ignore when all I can do is watch them tear everything apart down here and be unable to do anything about it. Thanks for that," he mentioned sarcastically.
"You wanted a free world," Sera said, picking up the papers and reviewing them thoroughly. "Is this the world of justice and freedom you expected?"
Lucifer said nothing, looking away with regret. The Seraph felt a pang of compassion for her brother. But she could do nothing about it; he had to accept the guilt of his actions.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
As she was about to leave, she heard him murmur.
"How is... He?"
"Father arrived in Heaven as scheduled. Accepting His end to forgive the sinners on Earth."
"Yeah, I heard something about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
The angel hesitated, but she wanted to offer a shred of comfort.
"Father would be proud of your decision today."
Lucifer, who had been staring at his own hooves, looked up in surprise.
"You... Do you really think so?"
She nodded.
"It is a step toward fixing the mistakes of the past."
The Devil didn't seem convinced, but Sera noticed his flicker of emotion at the mention of his Father.
"It was a pleasure to see you again, Lucifer."
"Likewise, Sera."
With that, the High Seraph disappeared through a portal, leaving the ex-angel alone in the meeting room of the newly inaugurated Embassy of Heaven.
..................................................................
Charlotte Morningstar was a very hyperactive child during her first decades of life.
One didn't need to ask her parents—the King and Queen of Hell—to know the mental toll of raising the little demon. However, the young girl noticed that her parents seemed to be drifting apart. Or at least, they spent less and less time together each day. Her mother took her to all sorts of meetings or her concerts for the sinners. Charlie—as her father nicknamed her—didn't yet fully understand what sinners were, but her mother seemed to love them very much.
Her father, on the other hand, seemed more reluctant to mingle with people. When she was with him, it was always a fun adventure inside the castle. Sometimes he told stories, using his magic to create images as he narrated; other times, he played with her and her rubber duckies.
Charlie loved everything they did, admiring her father's imagination and her mother's leadership. She loved them both. That was why she didn't understand why, as the days passed, they couldn't seem to stay in the same room for very long. Over the years, high-energy family outings turned into outings with only one parent or the other.
Slowly, her father began retreating to his workshop, hiding away from everything.
She snuck in a few times, and he seemed surprised but then happy, picking her up and showing her another of his inventions. She would never forget the picture-box of a duck swimming in a galaxy with six wings and halos on its feathered head. It filled her with profound wonder. Then her mother would arrive, and her father seemed happy she had joined them.
But then, she would say Charlie needed to sleep and carry her off to bed. The little girl watched as her father, still smiling, raised his hand to wave, but then his expression would fall. The doors would close, and she wouldn't see him again for weeks.
Then... one day, her mother disappeared.
She remembered hearing her father making phone calls with nervous tension that eventually turned into desperation. When he finally came to her, he smiled and told her that her mother had simply gone away on business—surely uplifting the sinners with her voice.
She chose to believe him. And so her life went on, tended to by servants while her father remained locked in his workshop.
But one night, while the little Princess of Hell lay in her bed staring out the window, she saw something that caught her eye.
A bird was at her window, watching her. Charlie didn't know much about Hell's fauna, but she knew this little animal wasn't from here. It looked like a duck, but there were no ducks here; she had learned that when she asked her father when they could go see real ducks. Seeing the Devil's sorrowful expression, she knew she would never see one.
The bird was white and seemed to carry a small plant in its beak. It was beautiful; she had never seen a bird like it. Curiosity won out, and she hopped out of bed to go to the window, opening it to let the animal in. Unfortunately, it seemed to get spooked and flew away.
"No, wait!" she said, worried.
Against all better judgment, the little girl left her room, checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear. She walked barefoot through the corridors on tiptoe. Her hooves could make noise and alert the servants or even her father—though at this point, she wished her father would come out.
When she reached the castle gates, she exited with the same care. She walked through the royal gardens before stepping onto the stone path of the streets. She looked up toward that strange white winged circle she always saw in the sky, next to the black circle with a pentagram. There, in the air, she saw it: the bird.
The creature descended and flew around her, making her smile and laugh at the breeze. When the animal began to fly away, she followed it.
She ran on her small legs; the sinners around her watched with contempt or indifference. She ran until she reached a place devoid of the usual bustle. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, following the bird, so she didn't notice the change until she crashed into something.
Or rather, someone.
The Princess clutched her face from the impact, looking up.
"Oh, I am sorry, little one."
A man stood before her. He looked like no sinner she had ever seen. She tilted her head to the side, confused.
"Why do you look different, sir?" the girl asked.
He had no horns, no disproportionate body, no extra eyes. In a way... he looked like her mother. But even she had horns when she wished. Perhaps this man hid them? Though she could have sworn that if she focused her eyes hard enough, she saw a circle of light around his head.
"Am I different?" the man asked calmly.
She nodded eagerly; she wanted answers.
"Yes! You don't have wrinkled skin, or scales, or... well, anything distinctive! You look... you look a bit like my mama," she said sadly.
The man with shoulder-length hair and a beard looked at her with compassion.
"I see. And where are your parents, little one? Surely they must be worried about you."
"My papa must be in his workshop and my mama—" she stopped, and she felt the tears welling up— "my ma-mama, I don't know where she is..."
She felt warm hands over her eyes. The man wiped away her tears with the sleeves of his clothes. She saw holes in his palms.
"Do not cry, Charlotte. I am certain your mother will return. She loves you very much."
"Ho-how do you know that?" she asked, doubtful but relieved to hear those words.
He gave her a warm, loving smile. "A hunch."
"But... how do you know me? I never leave the castle..."
At least not anymore, not since her mother left.
"I know you because I know everyone I love. You are one of them, little one."
"So you know my parents?"
"Yes, I know them well. They are precious to me."
Oh, so this man must be a friend of her parents. Though she wondered why they had never told her about him.
"You never answered why you look different from the sinners, sir," she said, becoming bolder. "And what is that on your head? Are you royalty too?"
The man laughed at her questions. Then, he picked her up in his arms. The sensation felt strangely comforting. He walked serenely toward some destination with her.
"I look different because I am only passing through," he said. "And what I wear on my head is a token of affection for my loved ones. Not because I am royalty."
Charlie listened and, out of curiosity, reached her hands toward the man's strange crown. But as soon as she touched a thorn, she cried out from the pain.
"Ow! How can you have that on your head?!"
He laughed again. "It is a token of love. I choose this path to save others. Those who seek salvation deserve to be saved. I came here for that. Although, unfortunately, I cannot stay long."
Charlie felt confused by his words. "And have you saved anyone?"
"I hope so," he said with a smile. "Though not here yet, and it seems I don't have much time left."
"Are you leaving? Sinners can't leave the Ring. That's what my mama told me."
"I am a Lamb," he replied simply. "And I plan to go up instead of down. They are waiting for me."
"You're weird," Charlie said with a giggle.
"It's good to know, Charlotte," he said with a smile.
"Mama always liked to sing for the sinners. Does that mean she was saving them too?"
"In her own way. But it is not the right method if that was her purpose." The man with the crown of thorns looked at her with wisdom. "Saving does not mean uplifting people for personal reasons. Not everyone can see the light, but anyone can see it, if they seek it. To understand why someone can be saved, and for that someone to accept your help... Repentance is the first step toward healing. The rest will come if Father wills it."
Charlie looked at the man, not knowing what else to say. She reflected until she felt herself being lowered from the man's arms and placed on the ground. She was at the entrance of the castle.
"It was a pleasure talking to you, Charlotte. You are a curious and kind child. Your parents raised you well."
At that moment, a gust of wind made Charlie look up. It was the white bird, diving down and perching on the strange man's shoulder.
"Is it your pet? What is it? It looks a lot like a duck!"
He blinked and then laughed; laughter seemed to be a common thing for him.
"It is not my pet; it is a close friend. And it is definitely not a duck," he replied through chuckles. "It is a dove, an animal from the human world."
Charlie gasped. She couldn't believe it—a creature from the mortal plane. She had only heard stories of it from her father. That meant...
"Are you a human?"
"I am."
She looked at him with awe. That made more sense. It explained his simple yet complex features and why he looked a bit like her mother, who had once been human. Charlie heard the commotion inside the castle; apparently, they had finally noticed her absence.
"It is time for you to go home. Just as I must return to mine."
"Will we see each other again?" she asked anxiously.
"Someday. Even if you don't see me, I will be there."
She nodded, pressing her hands to her chest with a heavy heart.
"And Charlie."
She listened.
"I would appreciate it if this stayed between us. It is not yet time for my visit to be known. Could you keep this secret for me?" he asked gently.
She perked up. She could do that!
"Yes! Not a single quack will escape my mouth!" she said with a grin.
He seemed happy and headed back the way he had come. She waved goodbye, excited. She had many things to think about tonight. But first, she had to calm the servants who were looking for her.
She heard her father's worried voice, and that made her smile. In the end, he had come out of his workshop for her.
..................................................................
Decades—perhaps even a thousand years—passed before the first Extermination finally arrived.
The troops stood in formation with their chosen weapons. Among spears, swords, and... a flail.
Yes, Abel wasn't going to question that one.
They were on the outskirts of the city, on the far side of the immense clouds that served as walls to protect the souls residing in the Ring of Humility—the place where all human souls went.
"Sir." Lute’s voice called to him. "We are ready to depart."
He couldn't see her face; a helmet covered it. According to the High Seraph, everyone had to wear one to maintain anonymity and provide protection. The uniform was another matter. Lute had never removed certain pieces of her armor, such as her pauldrons and gauntlets. However, she now wore additional pieces, including a breastplate and armored boots.
Not to mention the "X" located on the right side of the helmet of each and every warrior.
The helmets featured holographic magic to express emotions—not that it was strictly necessary, but Heaven's magic was confusing even for someone like Abel.
He had lived with these girls for all these years. At first, he was hesitant and distant, focused more on landing a single hit on Lute during their private training. But slowly, without realizing it, he began to speak more with the troops. They were stationed in a barracks secluded from public areas to keep everything as low-profile as possible. The Exorcists didn't have homes like Lute and Abel; they lived in the barracks in shared quarters. It wasn't necessary for them to sleep, but Abel had once again advocated for a space where they could rest. Sera had accepted his request, and now a building attached to the barracks served as their dormitory.
He got to know each of them, and they listened to him in return. It was a circle where he could feel comfortable again. He noticed Lute opening up more to others besides himself. During those talks, perhaps a few "bad taste" jokes about his death had slipped out. So, it came as a surprise when the helmets were modified to show a mark over the exact spot where he had been fatally wounded in life. His own helmet had it too.
He had looked at his companion for answers. Lute simply tried on the helmet—her long hair still spilling out—but the expression she gave him was one of silent understanding.
“We are with you.”
He blinked and returned to the present, shaking off the memories of the past. He didn't want to dwell too much on old events; training was very different from living together. It showed a side of them he thought he would never get used to.
Especially Lute.
"Very well. Today is the day we have prepared for for so long," he said aloud. Over the years, he had gained more confidence, and this was proof of it. "I want you to remember what has already been said. Only go after sinners. No Hell-born."
"Yes, sir!" they responded in unison.
Abel tucked his helmet under his arm and then slid it on. He quickly adjusted to the protective magic within.
From his hand, he concentrated everything he had learned with Sera. A pulse in his chest became too much to contain; he let his fingers shape his soul’s pulse into a weapon. A glowing staff, with a conch-like spiral at its tip, appeared in his hand. He raised it toward a point in the clouds.
Instantly, a vortex opened, its edges shimmering in gold. The air rushing out of the portal was searing and repulsive. The blonde suppressed a grimace.
"Give the order," Lute said behind him, drawing her sword.
"Now!" he commanded, staff still raised high.
The army let out a war cry and unfurled their wings, descending into the depths of the abyss.
..................................................................
The Exterminations proceeded exactly as planned. Every year, they descended within a strict time limit to purge as many souls as possible. Every year was another success.
The same could not be said for some of the soldiers.
After the first Extermination, many Exorcists seemed to waver, shocked by the atrocities they witnessed in Hell. Not to mention, all of them suffered slight damage to their essence from the underworld’s pervasive evil. From then on, the training became more severe. No one was allowed to show doubt or fear; to do so was a weakness that could be turned against them. The task of this hardening fell to the Commander and his Lieutenant.
But conflict arose.
Abel stood in opposition to the harsh penalties inflicted on Exorcists for even the smallest errors. Lute, on the contrary, was in favor of such punishments to fortify their character.
The Seraph had been right about Abel’s soul; it was never contaminated by Hell’s corruption. He remained the beacon the Exorcists followed during their darkest moments in the purge. This also meant he was shielded from the influence of the sin within that profane realm.
Unlike some of the Exorcists.
The situation came to a head when Abel and Lute had an argument regarding training methods following the first purge. It was their first dispute loud enough for the entire barracks to hear.
Abel was under constant stress, and the argument did nothing to lighten the weight of his actions during that first descent. Yes, he had ended the existence of several sinners—more out of self-defense than intent—but he had committed the act nonetheless. Guilt gnawed at him, yet Lute seemed indifferent to the matter; one might even say she looked satisfied with their work. He didn't know if that was simply her essence as a warrior, but he felt it shouldn't affect the other girls in the army.
The fallout left them barely speaking. She was still there, but now she was merely a sentinel. A presence—no longer the companion he had considered a friend. And that hurt.
Training became more brutal. Abel did his best to maintain a serene atmosphere, but there was little he could do when the vast majority shared his Lieutenant’s mindset. Despite the fear or tension these penalties caused, the soldiers didn't view them as wrong; to them, it was duty. A task to be completed, and if they failed, they deserved the punishment. Only a few seemed disgusted or fearful, but they never spoke up to oppose it.
The human sometimes forgot they were angels; they did not know emotions, nor did they process them the way a normal human being would.
So, he fell silent. He said nothing. He preferred to retreat into paperwork, tallying the number of souls exterminated rather than spending too much time at the barracks.
He prayed for forgiveness, but God had not manifested a physical form again since His arrival in Heaven.
Those early Exterminations changed everything Abel thought he knew. He didn't know if his soul would truly emerge unscathed as the Seraph had promised, or if in the end, he would fall and become just like his brother.
He wished to see his mother again, to have her hold him as she did when he was a child having bad dreams. But his mother was long gone; he would never feel her warmth or affection again.
He wished he could just sleep and forget it all. To return to the peaceful moments with his parents. To when he was alone in Heaven. To when Lute would listen to him and look at him with warmth.
Just like his life, it had all ended in an instant.
..................................................................
When training ended for the day, Lute headed toward the office where the Commander was likely doing paperwork as usual. But she stopped when she encountered one of the Exorcists in her path. She didn't remember her name—it didn't help that they all looked so much alike. Now that they were all required to wear their hair short, just above the shoulders, it was even harder to tell them apart.
Abel was the only one who knew every face; he could distinguish each of them effortlessly.
"Lieutenant, I... I was looking for you."
"Another time. I’m busy," she replied flatly.
She moved to bypass her with indifference, but she heard quick footsteps behind her.
"It’s important!" the Exorcist said with irritation.
Lute stopped and turned to look at her more closely. Her face was familiar, but she couldn't place why, and she didn't want to force herself to remember when she had more important things to do. She sighed and gave her a stern look.
"State your name and rank, soldier."
"Vagatha, ma’am," she replied, hands behind her back. "First line of attack."
Ah, she understood now. Vagatha was famous among the Exorcists for being one of the most prominent in terms of sinners eliminated—second only to Lute herself, of course.
"Fine. What is so important that you would interfere with my duties, Vagatha?"
"You see..." She seemed to falter for a moment before lifting her gaze with determination. "Some of the Exorcists are not satisfied with how training is being handled. Or the penalties."
Lute arched an eyebrow. "And what are you requesting?"
"Better treatment. A focus on strategy and defense. I know we prioritize offense, but I believe there should be a balance where punishments aren't necessary to incite obedience."
Lute listened, and every word that left the recruit's mouth made her frown deepen.
"We are soldiers. We serve to strike in the name of Heaven. Punishment is given to strengthen. Do you think weak angels will survive in Hell? Do you remember what happened during the first Extermination?"
Vagatha looked conflicted.
"One of your sisters would have been wounded because she cowered. It was a stroke of luck your Commander was there to act in her defense. For one mistake, everyone pays. And I will not allow something as stupid as fear or compassion for sinful filth to happen on my watch."
"Even if it goes against the Commander's beliefs?" Vagatha asked, her expression firm.
Lute grit her teeth. Who does she think she is?
"Careful how you address me, soldier."
"You haven't answered my question, or my request," the Exorcist challenged.
"There is nothing to discuss. The training is perfect as it is. You are wasting my time," Lute ended the conversation with contained rage.
"Maybe that’s why the Chief never comes to training anymore," Vagatha said aloud, venting her frustration. "That’s why he’s distancing himself more and more from—"
"SILENCE!"
The Exorcist’s mouth snapped shut in shock.
"This is your first warning! If you ever mention anything remotely related to this nonsense again, I will not be held responsible for what happens to you! I don't care how good you are on the battlefield if you question the measures I take to keep everyone safe!"
Lute spun on her heel and marched away. Who did that recruit think she was? She had no idea what Lute was doing to keep the troops as strong as possible, sacrificing her time to discipline them—time she could spend on other things. Like her original mission.
Lute let out a frustrated huff as she recalled the argument with her master. It didn't feel like they had been this way for years; it felt like millennia. They hadn't spoken more than a greeting or a formal report. The silence was suffocating.
She finally reached the office of the one haunting her thoughts. In the center of the room sat the blonde, head down, focused on his desk as he wrote with a golden quill.
Lute clenched her jaw and walked toward him. She had to report on the troops' progress, but she was in no mood for trivialities.
"Sir. Are you avoiding supervising the training?" she asked directly. "Be honest."
The human blinked, startled. "Oh... well... No? Not really."
Liar.
"You haven't attended training in over a hundred years," she said coldly. "I remind you that it is your job to oversee the performance of your army."
"Just to watch them hit the floor with screams of pain?" Abel asked rhetorically, giving her a hollow smile. "No, thank you."
"We already discussed this, sir."
"Yes, and you know very well my opinion on it." Abel continued writing, ignoring her.
"Of course I do. That’s why I don't understand it!" Lute reproached in desperation. "Why do you focus so much on sentimentality when there is none down there?"
"We aren't down there, Lute." The human slammed the pen onto the desk, finally reaching his limit. "The girls don't deserve to be treated like sinners, much less suffer for a mistake in posture or for feeling something as human as fear."
"That is the problem!" she snapped back. "They shouldn't feel anything. They were created to be weapons—the barrier that defines whether Heaven stays safe or not. We are not humans. We don't need emotions interfering with our mission."
"They are thinking beings; they don't deserve to be treated like objects, for the love of God!" Abel was visibly angry—or perhaps "exhausted" was a better word. "I never treated you like one. You were my... my friend, Lute. Not a weapon at my disposal."
She froze at those words, but she took a breath and returned to her firm facade, leaning over the desk to look down at him.
"I was created for you. My mission is and always will be to stay by your side." Abel's gaze softened; hearing that felt like a balm on his wounds. But the next words burned him. "But I am also the weapon you wield. I am loyal to you, and I look out for what is best for your situation. That is why I cannot allow you to be surrounded by a battalion incapable of raising a weapon against a sinner."
"That... that's not..." He stumbled over his words. "Lute, it doesn't have to be this way. You aren't a weapon. No one is. You are someone with your own thoughts and, I’m sure, emotions too. I don't understand how you reached such a horrible conclusion."
"It isn't a conclusion. It’s all that I am," she said as a matter of fact.
Abel looked at her with such profound worry that something bitter settled in the Lieutenant's chest. That look felt wrong. Lute wanted to turn and leave, but she wouldn't, because that would be fleeing, and she was no coward.
"It isn't," Abel finally stood and walked around the desk to face her. "You like to look at the stars; I've noticed. You like to sharpen everything—your armor, your sword. You’re also a good singer." Lute’s eyes widened. "I've heard you humming the songs I sang to you. I know."
The blonde raised his hands, hesitating for a second before gently taking the hands of his Lieutenant—his friend.
"A weapon wouldn't have any of that. You do. You are so much more than what you were created for." A caress of his thumb over the back of her hand made her shiver. "I'm sure the girls are the same. They are different from each other despite their appearance. They are their own individuals. You are your own person, Lute."
She said nothing. What could she say? She was hearing the exact opposite of everything she had been built for. Sera's distant words felt like fading echoes.
She looked at Abel—really looked at him. She couldn't believe she hadn't paid attention to his appearance after all these years. The dark circles were back. His uniform, which once fit loosely, now seemed too big. He looked terribly tired, both physically and mentally.
She had failed. Abel was unwell. And yet there he was, giving her words full of meaning about her own value. She couldn't accept it all at once, but she could... try. For him. For herself.
"I... I don't see it that way," she said with a softness he thought he’d never hear again. "But... I will try to be more... open about it."
The tension in the human's shoulders and wings collapsed. Abel let out a ragged sigh and laughed foolishly, showing the gap where his tooth was missing.
He was laughing. Lute had forgotten that detail. It was a pleasant sensation to hear him laugh as much as it was to see it.
"My God, you don't know how relieved I am to hear that." Before he could say more, the strength he thought he had abandoned him, and his legs gave out.
He didn't even hit the floor; he was pulled into the white-haired angel's arms. She held him with a mix of firmness and gentleness, knowing exactly how much force to apply to keep him afloat.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what’s wrong with me, I just—" His voice grew tremulous, his vision distorting. "It's been so long since we talked like this. I thought... I thought we'd never speak like this again..."
Lute cursed herself internally, using many of the words she had heard in Hell. She was an idiot.
"Forgive me, sir," she said, adjusting them both until they were sitting on the office floor. "I have neglected my position as your companion. I left you aside all this time. I failed you."
"I thought we moved past the object thing," Abel joked through his tears.
"I don't say it as an object. I say it as your companion," she replied. She let her body do what it wanted, wrapping her arms around the human's soft frame. "You are the most important thing to me, sir. Your happiness is my reward; your sadness, my punishment. You are everything."
Abel blinked to clear his tears, but Lute's words didn't help. "D-don't say things like that. It can be confusing."
"I only speak the truth. By focusing too much on the Seraph's mission, I forgot my true purpose: you." Abel buried his face deeper into Lute's uniform, already damp with his tears. "Let me make it right."
He nodded weakly, clinging to her. The angel didn't let go until he had released all those years of stress, guilt, and resentment. She accepted it all, listening to him just as she had in the beginning.
In the solitude of the empty office, they remained—two people picking up broken pieces to put them back together.
..................................................................
Things seemed to be improving at the barracks.
The Exorcists knew it the moment the Commander arrived accompanied by the Lieutenant. Murmurs began to ripple through the ranks, but they were quickly silenced by Lute’s cold, severe gaze.
However, there was a change. This time, no one was struck for a poor stance; there were only warnings coupled with a furrowed brow. Running laps around the entire Ring in record time, practicing strikes on wooden dummies across the training field… it was, in its own way, pleasant.
Among the rows was Vagatha, who noted the shift just as clearly. She didn't want to seem egocentric, but she liked to believe her words had somehow pierced the Lieutenant’s hard shell of angelic steel. It relieved her. Many of her comrades had sought her out, knowing she was the most influential and the most likely to be heard. Furthermore, she had been deeply incensed by the treatment of Hope—one of her many sisters, but the one with whom she shared the strongest bond.
She still remembered when Lute had grabbed Hope by the hair while the girl screamed for mercy. “You will never feel fear again,” Lute had told her. But Lute had turned a deaf ear and, with a vacant expression, began the "conditioning." Everyone had witnessed the act, remaining silent and still. Vagatha had been by Hope's side before she was taken, but when the girl was wrenched from her arms, Vagatha could only stand frozen, watching her sister-in-arms be punished.
It was horrific. When Vagatha finally went to help her, she and a few other Exorcists carried Hope to the dormitories to let her rest, even though she was covered in bruises and her feathers were a mess.
Vagatha—nicknamed Vaggi by her comrades during sisterly bickering—watched today's training. She watched the Lieutenant. She stole a glance at Hope, who was flying the perimeter with every ounce of strength her wings possessed. Vagatha could still perceive an air of nervousness and fear, but it was lessened.
Yet, she would never forget what had happened. She was happy things were changing, yes. But Lute had said nothing regarding the previous training sessions. It was as if nothing had ever happened, and that was something Vaggi could not tolerate.
How are we any different from the sinners who harm people and face no consequences for their actions?
She blinked at the thought. No, they were different. The sinners had chosen that life; they had earned their punishment and thus deserved the Extermination. She had seen it with her own eyes every time she descended into that pit. Senseless slaughter, abuse, and other things she wasn't sure she wanted to remember.
But… there was also fear. It was rare, but she had seen it. That look of sheer terror right before she drove her spear through a head or a chest.
She would lock that dangerous thought away. Such a thing could be considered treason if she were daring enough to speak it aloud. She already had one warning hanging over her head; she wasn't about to get another.
As she faced her opponent in hand-to-hand combat, her movements—once neat and decisive—became hesitant.
A pair of eyes fixed on the back of her neck. The Lieutenant would surely notice her poor performance at any moment.
Vaggi prayed to cast out the doubt from her soul.
..................................................................
Lute learned of several things that had occurred during her absence from Abel’s side. First, he seemed to have developed a great fondness for sweets. She knew he liked things with a mellow touch, like honey, but he had missed out on centuries of human invention. There was now every kind of dessert, and as more souls arrived, they always brought a piece of their culinary culture with them.
Though the blonde's favorite was toffee, she kept that knowledge tucked away for another time.
Another thing was that Adam, Abel’s father, had been teaching him to play the guitar. The human mentioned that when he was alive, his father tried to build one out of wooden planks and lamb guts for strings; needless to say, it didn’t work out. Adam had been too busy ensuring his family didn’t die of hunger, cold, or any of the multiple illnesses found in the wilderness.
Abel was a fanatic of music, just like his father. His mother had always sung lullabies to him, and his father would complement them whenever he had the chance—mostly at night, or during meals and the winter months. Lute already knew of her master’s affection for music. There was a reason she always listened to him singing to the sheep in the garden, and why she subconsciously hummed his melodies; she hadn't realized Abel had noticed.
Furthermore, the blonde had become more sociable—or at least, he had tried to expand his circle of acquaintances. Lute saw how the younger Seraph, Emily, would greet Abel during their walks through the streets. She didn’t think much of it until Abel told her that while she was at the barracks, Emily had visited to check on his dampened spirits. The younger Seraph was always trying to include him in Heaven's joy—it was her job to bring happiness to everyone—so Abel decided to accept her gestures of encouragement, and they became good friends. Lute felt a sharp pang in her chest, once again cursing her actions and the consequences they had brought upon Abel.
Another person Abel had grown close to was a well-known figure in Heaven: the one who held the book with the names of every soul who was good in life. One of the twelve apostles of Jesus. Saint Peter, formerly known as Simon.
Saint Peter was a tranquil man; he kept his human form, unlike some souls who changed appearance upon entering Paradise. He appreciated his humanity and wouldn’t change his look even though he was capable of it. He always had a kind smile for receiving souls. When Lute saw them interact, they looked like a distant uncle greeting his nephew, even though Abel was technically older than him. Peter looked older because he had passed away in his sixties. The grey streaks in his black hair were a testament to that.
Though Peter seemed to adapt to Heaven's modernities like everyone else, Abel would joke with him, asking if Saint John had written another section in the newspaper of anecdotes from when they were alive and starting their journey as apostles. This would cause a grimace from the man at his friend and companion’s nonsense. Lute noticed the relationship between Peter and John was tense, but not necessarily in a bad way. It wasn't serious; just a recurring dynamic between them. Hearing Abel laugh heartily at Peter’s expressions and comments toward John made a small smile form on her lips.
She had missed so much of Abel’s life. How his confidence had improved when speaking to people, his return to old hobbies, his new food preferences—among many other things.
Thinking about it made her feel strange. She hadn't been there for him, yet Abel had moved forward regardless. He had managed to improve in areas Lute hadn't even deemed necessary. She hated the harm she had caused the human in her absence, but it seemed necessary if these were the results. The thought that Abel might have been happier without her was bitter. Humans were confusing, but she was starting to understand their relationships a bit better now. She spent time watching the interactions between the souls in Heaven: familial, friendly, romantic, platonic; a vast variety. She didn't know where her relationship with Abel fit, other than as a human and his guardian.
She let herself be carried away by her thoughts. If she had been human... would anything change?
That was stupid, she told herself. She was a warrior angel, Abel’s guardian. She would never be human, nor was it possible she ever could have been. She was a creation of God; she wasn't organic or emotional. It wasn't in her nature.
But, to think of it... if things had been different.
No, stop. This wasn't right. She had to stop; imagining things was not one of her functions. She didn't know when she had started having these mental images in her head, but she had to stop.
The life on Earth she heard about from Abel sounded horrific. Every day was "kill or be killed." Moments of peace were almost non-existent compared to the times of scarcity. Though Abel also mentioned that modern human life seemed much more welcoming than when he was alive.
"I'd like to go down sometime and see how much the world has changed."
He had been enthusiastic about the small businesses and the architecture, though he still preferred places with more vegetation and tranquility over the noisy city.
Going to the human world...
Impossible. Angels did not descend to Earth. Only a select few had permission from the Council to go down when called. Abel had no chance of going.
That didn't stop her mind from playing against her. Imagining Abel as a mere human in the modern world, enjoying visits to candy shops and gardens. And Lute was always by his side as a companion, but not in an angelic form.
Shit, she cursed, not caring about the word. She was going crazy.
As was her habit, she buried everything deep within her mind and locked it away. One of these days she was going to reach her limit, and she hoped it would happen when she was alone and not by Abel’s side. She didn't want to imagine the look the human would give her if he knew she was beginning to imagine things he had never asked for.
Her mind, as always, went against her and imagined exactly the expression Abel would make in that hypothetical scenario.
Lute had to slam her head against the trunk of a tree to stop the images, startling the blonde sitting on the grass among the garden sheep.
..................................................................
The stench of sulfur and desperation was the defining essence of Hell.
In the midst of the annual slaughter, screams of panic erupted with fury. Vagatha drove her spear into a sinner’s neck, silencing them. She hated the screaming; lately, she couldn't stop hearing them in her head. It was better to shut them up.
She wrenched her weapon from the sinner’s flesh with a clean motion. Blood splattered, and she frowned at the sight of the red substance pouring out. Scanning for another soul to purge, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye leading toward an alleyway. Someone was trying to hide.
She flew swiftly toward the cowardly soul; escaping would only delay the inevitable end. There was little time left before the Extermination's limit expired. She had to keep going until then.
She landed on the pavement and raised her spear high, her gaze determined. However, her vision had to drop several inches due to the sinner’s size.
What she saw was a child.
How? Children didn't go to Hell. They were too pure to be corrupted by the evil of the world. And if it ever happened, their soul would simply be put on hold until a healing angel came to their aid.
Her mind raced at a thousand thoughts per minute, trying to find a reason for what she was seeing. The child looked so terrified that it caused a tightening in her chest, and she lowered her spear slightly. With a flick of her head, she signaled the boy to leave. Even in his mortal terror, the child wasted no time and bolted from the alley.
A shadow approached Vagatha. She recognized the shape and the unmistakable footsteps of Abel’s right hand.
"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
The Exorcist gripped her spear with trembling, nervous hands. She knew she had made a mistake. There was no denying it.
"I..."
"You spared that sinner," Lute stated with the expected fury.
"No! I would never—"
"I know you’ve been neglecting your strikes in training. The number of souls you purge decreases every time." The Lieutenant approached, sword in hand. "You are wavering. You’re on their side."
"No!" Vaggi said desperately. "I would never be on the side of sinners! I just got distracted for a moment, I didn't—"
"You’re a goddamn traitor," Lute interrupted again. In less than a minute, she had her in a hold that disarmed her, ripping off her Exorcist helmet to reveal her face. "After all these years serving Heaven, you choose to betray the souls you swore to protect."
Vagatha struggled to break the hold, but she only managed to scratch the metal of Lute’s armor.
"Maybe you should taste the damage the first sinner caused the world." Vagatha’s movements froze. "Let's see if you still have mercy for them."
It all happened so fast she could barely distinguish what was occurring. She heard screaming; a moment later, she realized the sound was coming from her.
The tip of Lute’s sharp sword sank into her left eye socket. The void and the total loss of vision on that side terrified her. She clutched the hole where her eye should be in desperation.
"There is no salvation for you. You are contaminated," Lute's voice seemed distant to the Exorcist on the ground. "Even your eyes have changed; there is nothing of sanctity left in them."
With every ounce of strength she had to stay conscious, Vagatha saw her eye before her. It had lost its golden hue, the sclera slowly turning red.
No... that couldn't be true. She had done everything right. She couldn't be... She couldn't have fallen.
"A filthy sinner like you doesn't deserve a place in Heaven."
The grip on her wings gave her a hint of what would happen next. She clawed at the ground with her steel gauntlets, screaming until her vocal cords snapped. Nothing stopped the agonizing moment in which her wings were torn from her back as if they were nothing.
On the ground, with nothing left to take, she stared into the void. Her vision was blurry; she saw Lute’s silhouette grab her fallen halo while tossing her severed wings aside with disgust. Vagatha thought she saw the silhouette of the Commander standing next to Lute. She didn't know what kind of expression he wore; she only knew that the bells began to chime.
The Extermination was over.
She was left to her fate in that alley, without an eye, without wings. Without divine grace. She had nothing.
Driven by sheer willpower, she stripped off her Exorcist armor, lessening the weight on her body. The blood loss made her thoughts slow and delirious, but they were still rational. The only thing she thought about now was survival.
Wearing the casual clothes beneath her uniform, she walked with difficulty through the empty streets filled with corpses—some of them dead by her own hand. The balance she once possessed was gone; without her wings, she felt light and dizzy. Wanting to reach a safer place to recover, she ducked into another alleyway. Her legs failed her, and she collapsed against a trash container.
That’s where she belonged, after all. With the sinful trash.
The sound of footsteps entering the alley alarmed her, but her body wouldn't cooperate to get to safety. If this was her end, at least she could accept it with honor—accepting that all was lost.
She opened her remaining eye to see the face of her executioner, expecting the grinning face of some sinner.
The only thing that greeted her was the worried expression of a young woman.
..................................................................
The irritation in Abel’s stride was palpable.
Lute had sensed it from the moment she grabbed his arm to signal their return to Heaven. His gaze had first been one of fear, uncertainty, and confusion at the sight in that alleyway. She had tightened her grip to insist they leave. He hesitated, but as his guardian angel and Lieutenant, it was Lute’s responsibility to look out for Abel first. She gripped him by the waist and took flight, followed by the Exorcists.
The moment they touched the clouds of Heaven, the air felt cleaner, and the clouded mind cleared. Malice was rising within the soldiers, but thanks to the designated time limit, the damage wasn't great enough for them to become corrupted.
Well, apparently it didn't work for everyone. What a nuisance.
Now, Lute found herself walking alongside the Commander toward nowhere in particular. Abel simply seemed to walk to keep his body in motion. His wings rested on either side of his torso for comfort. Even with the ability to fly, he preferred to walk. His wings, when unfurled, were somewhat cumbersome, so he kept them close to his body like a strange blanket.
Currently, those wings were flared, their feathers bristling.
"Are you going to stop?" she asked with indifference.
He didn't answer, but he shot her an irritated look. The Lieutenant let out a weary sigh. It seemed the blonde was in no mood for small talk.
At some point, following the confusion and worry, came the anger. Abel demanded to know what had happened, insisting they go back for Vaggi—using the nickname everyone called the Exorcist. Lute explained sternly why she had chosen to leave the sinner with the sinners; it was logical. Vagatha was a traitor; she couldn't allow her to return knowing which side of the scale she stood on.
That didn't make Abel feel any better. He looked at her with an emotion not often seen in him: Anger.
And so, they were stuck in this stupid "silent treatment." Lute felt she would grow more irritated than she already was by this idiocy.
"Running away won't stop me from following you, sir. You know that well."
Abel stopped. Lute did as well.
He raised his arm, and sparks formed in the air where he pointed. The white-haired angel's eyes widened, knowing what he was about to do. A golden portal formed, and Abel didn't hesitate to step through in a hurry.
However, Lute wasn't a soldier for nothing. She flew toward him rapidly, her body colliding with his in a maneuver to stop him. She wasn't going to let him out of her sight. Not until they "talked," as Abel himself had so often told her they should do to avoid these communication breakdowns.
They both tumbled onto the floor of the place where Abel had set the portal. Lute felt a hand on her face, pushing her away. Abel shoved her off without the negative emotion leaving his face; if anything, he looked even angrier.
"Why did you follow me?!" the human snapped with visible annoyance and confusion.
"Because we need to talk."
"We already did," he said as he stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes.
"That isn't true. I spoke, and you left without a single word. You didn't even look back at me," she replied, picking herself up.
She took a quick glance at her surroundings. This was a bedroom—small enough to be cozy but large enough to be comfortable. There was a bit of furniture and a bed. A guitar leaned against the wall.
It was Abel’s room. They were in his private quarters. Lute hadn't expected this. She had never been here before, and she didn't know how to feel about it.
"It’s because you don't see the atrocity of what you did, Lute!" Abel finally turned to face her. "What you did was wrong! It was horrific! I don't know how you can act like this in the face of something so... so... CRUEL!"
She looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.
"I did what I had to do. That Exorcist spared a sinner. She was corrupted; it was only a matter of time before she fell. I simply accelerated the process and kept the others out of danger."
"Wounding her so gravely wasn't necessary! Hurting someone is never the answer! We could have come back to Heaven and asked a healing angel to handle her soul! Not leave her lying in agony in Hell!" he shouted.
"Treason is a severe matter, sir," Lute tried to clarify. "Perhaps you don't know, but every soldier created has their own unwritten law. We must all obey orders, no matter how difficult. The order for every Exorcist was to end the sinners. The simple act of lowering her weapon proves she broke that rule."
Abel looked at her with a mix of understanding and clear rejection.
"It doesn't justify what you did. You just... you tore off her wings... her eye." The human stepped closer to confront his guardian. "Why commit an act that lowers you to the same level as those sinners?"
Lute’s eyes widened with indignation at those words.
"I will never be like that sinful trash. I know whom I serve." She clenched her fists, the metal of her gauntlets creaking.
"Well, what you did proves otherwise. It’s not about whose side you’re on; it’s about the actions you commit. And what you did only shows that you’re... you're contaminated."
Neither said anything for a long moment. Abel’s anger seemed to have vanished, replaced by disappointment.
"You... you can't believe that."
Abel looked away and sat on the bed. He didn't deny it; he didn't have to. Abel believed she was corrupt. That she was falling into the clutches of the abyss she so despised.
It wasn't true. Lute knew she wasn't contaminated; she had no physical traits to prove it.
"You’ve... changed since we started going down to Hell," the human began to speak, wrapping himself in his wings. "Before, training with the girls was manageable—strict, but there was happiness among you. But after the first Extermination, you just... you started that rule of punishments and sanctions over every little thing and—I didn't know what to do."
Lute listened without a word.
"I thought it was just your 'warrior angel' side but... hearing the others' screams of pain was horrific. Knowing you were the cause. Sometimes my mind played tricks on me, and I thought—"
Abel’s voice wavered; he didn't know if it was from frustration or something else.
"It doesn't matter," he said, leaving the sentence unfinished. "I distanced myself, and I know I shouldn't have, because you only sank deeper into that attitude. I thought that after we talked about it, you’d be okay. That you’d go back to being the angel I knew. The one who listened to me... The one who was there for me and said nothing would ever happen to me as long as she was by my side."
As he lowered his wings—the ones that had been shielding his body and face—Lute saw the mess Abel had been trying to hide.
"And now... now you've become this. And the worst part is... I don't want you to leave my side. I should hate you. I should be afraid of you. But I can't. I hate what you did. I fear what you might do next, but I don't hate you." He smiled joylessly. "Sera was wrong. My soul isn't strong enough..."
Though the human wasn't crying, his eyes were wet and unfocused, clinging to his own arms in search of a comfort he didn't have. Lute said nothing, taking in the scene before her. She raised her hand, the metallic claws of her uniform still stained with brilliant, glowing golden substance. She looked at her attire; there were several more spots across her body.
She was stained with the blood of the exiled. Golden blood. Angels had golden blood, unlike the sinners, whose blood was the same color as the apple that brought sin into the world.
Against all odds, the warrior approached the human. Abel tensed and tightened his grip on himself, closing his eyes shut.
"I was angry."
The blonde opened his eyes. Aside from her words, he was surprised by the tone of her voice—low and soft, as if she were afraid of startling him.
"Sparing a sinner or feeling anything other than hatred for them is unacceptable to me. It isn't fair to the victims." She knelt before him, looking up at him with a sincere expression. "It isn't fair to you."
Abel watched her with confusion.
"To commit such an act is to disrespect your suffering. It's like... forgiving the monster that brought you here before your time." She looked at her metallic gloves before removing them, and with her blood-free hands, she took his. "I cannot accept such a thing. And perhaps you are right, and I am—" she swallowed hard with annoyance but also acceptance— "contaminated. And that led me to anger mixed with duty. I do not regret the action I took, but I understand why you look at me with disapproval. I could have... handled the treason more diplomatically."
"She didn't deserve that," he said, his eyes fixed on their joined hands, giving them a squeeze from the emotions he felt. "No one deserves that."
"I know," she admitted. "It was impulsive of me to hand down a sentence before a divine verdict. I just... I was so angry at the thought of the betrayal being committed against your person, that the abyss managed to infect me. I will take the necessary measures to purify myself."
Throughout, Lute expressed seriousness mixed with a small amount of frustration. She was annoyed at having let herself be corrupted without realizing it. She thought she was fine because she showed no physical effects, but now Abel had pointed out her gradual change in attitude since the first Extermination.
It was strange; when she was with the human, she could relax and set aside the animosity that clouded her mind when training the Exorcists. It was as if the fog in her mind cleared, and she could simply be.
Abel’s soul was pure; the Seraph had mentioned that as one of the primary reasons for his rank as Commander. To be the lighthouse in a world of darkness like Hell.
Abel said his soul wasn't strong and that Sera was wrong, but it wasn't true. Her master was the strongest of all; he never fell into the clutches of the underworld, and his light persisted. Even with the guilt, pain, and sadness in his worst moments, he always found a way to shine. He did it when playing the guitar, when talking to his loved ones, when eating his favorite candy, or when visiting those new animal parks humans had invented centuries ago.
Abel was her lighthouse. He was her light and her morality. He dictated her existence. Even after all the mistakes she had made—mistakes that made her truly believe she didn't deserve to be his guardian and companion—he still wanted her by his side.
She cherished that, for she didn't believe it was possible for her not to be with him. She felt something within her longing for his presence. She wasn't sure if it was because it was her purpose to be his guardian angel, or something that shouldn't be possible for her.
She let herself be carried away by the warmth of the blonde's hands, who said nothing more after she spoke.
It was the first night Lute stayed in Abel’s room and watched him rest, staying by his side until the sun’s rays illuminated her master’s face.
..................................................................
The incident of Vagatha’s banishment was made known to the High Seraph through written reports from Lute, each bearing the Commander’s approving signature at the bottom of the pages.
The report narrated the event from the Lieutenant’s perspective, though it admitted the decision had been imprudent and that she was likely corrupted, based on the observations of the human in charge.
Sera, obviously, did not take it well. Fortunately for both, the Seraph made them swear never to mention it in public, treating it as an isolated case. She wanted no trouble or unrest within the army, nor did she wish to upset the high-ranking officials. Consequently, she issued a decree stating that the Exorcist Vagatha had been replaced in her position—which she was—and that, as a result, she would no longer be among the troops. It was attributed to severe corruption damage, and she would not be permitted to return to the Exorcists.
Delivering the news wasn't easy. A small number of soldiers were worried, while others simply saw it as natural; if she was no longer fit for the army, it was best she wasn't in the ranks.
It wasn't the first time an Exorcist had left the army and been replaced. After Abel returned to training, some Exorcists had approached him to ask if they could do something other than simply remain in the barracks, secluded from the Winners in the city. The human presented this doubt to Emily, who happily told him that any Exorcists wishing to retire could stay in the city. The younger Seraph would personally take charge of finding them a place, a hobby, or something to enjoy their eternity. It wasn't much different from what she did with newly arrived souls in Heaven.
Thus, the Exorcists believed their comrade had simply chosen to leave the army, using corruption as an excuse. Vagatha was well-known among them for her record in eliminating souls. Over the years, as some developed less ethical language and jokes from descending too often into Hell, animosity had grown in the barracks. This had bred a certain jealousy toward her performance. With Abel’s return, the atmosphere cleared slightly, but it was no longer like the early years of the division's creation.
Not everyone noticed the corruption. Sera had mentioned that returning to Heaven for the rest of the year would wash away the traces of malice from their beings, but it wasn't true. The evil seeped in like a fine layer of filth that no one could see. Rumors whispered that if you truly became corrupted, physical traits would betray you; seeing none of that, they all felt perfectly secure that they remained untouched by sin.
This year, precautions were taken. Abel ordered—or rather, advised—that everyone undergo a review by a healing angel. A check-up to see how far the "infection" had spread among the Exorcists.
The results were alarming. The healing angels reported that the army possessed non-angelic traits in their essence. It was as if the light that formed them was flickering or opaque.
Lute had a private check-up, unlike the rest of the army, who were being examined on the training field. The angel before her gave her a look of pity. It infuriated her because it confirmed what Abel had pointed out. She was contaminated. She hated the idea because it meant sin had infiltrated her being.
Was that why she had drifted from her primary mission to protect the human? Was that why her mind betrayed her, and she acted with more aggression? Was that why she did what she did?
She accepted the prescribed treatment: ingesting the Flame of Faith handed to her by the angelic medic. The fire hurt and burned, as was expected; it was a small sample of the gift God had placed in the temples and rivers of Heaven—a piece of His very essence.
The effect was startling. Her thoughts began to fade until she felt a numbness—a pleasant one. She still felt a strong burning in her chest, mind, and throat, but she felt at peace.
When she returned to the field to see Abel, she saw many of the Exorcists sitting on the ground or against the solid walls, gagging. Some offered clumsy comfort to their comrades by patting their backs. Others were crying, murmuring prayers in search of forgiveness.
The Lieutenant approached, unable to take her eyes off the scene.
"The Father’s fire caused a conflict within them. Or rather, the evil of sin came into conflict with the faith of God," the blonde said as she reached his side. He wore an expression of sadness, but also relief. "Thanks to the medicine, they are realizing their actions. I don't like seeing them like this, but... it’s for the best."
Lute nodded. This was right. They couldn't allow evil to infiltrate Heaven through those meant to protect it.
"I don't know what we would do without you. I tried to maintain things in your absence and I let this happen right before my eyes. I'm supposed to protect you, protect the souls of Heaven, and I failed you again."
Lute, with her arms behind her back as was her custom, clenched her fists in helplessness.
"To fail is human," Abel said before she could speak. "And I know you aren't human, but that doesn't mean you can't make mistakes. Though some are... very serious."
"Angels do not make mistakes."
"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" he replied with a half-smile. "You can always learn from it."
"You’ve been talking to Peter, haven't you?"
"And everyone else. They had a meeting recently in one of the coffee shops near the street I was walking by. You know Mary; she called me over to sit with them, and I couldn't say no."
"You were probably afraid to say no to her after last time."
Abel’s wings shivered, and he grimaced at the memory. "She just has a strong character... I wasn't afraid," he said, looking away.
She hummed, not entirely believing him, as she turned back to the Exorcists.
"Things will be different after this purification," she stated firmly.
"Yes," he replied. "And I believe it will be for the best."
They both watched as the understanding and the weight of thousands of years of slaughter settled onto the shoulders of each Exorcist. But there was also peace—the feeling of being oneself again, free from the red fog that had covered their minds and thoughts.
..................................................................
The subsequent Exterminations were "softer" compared to previous ones, and the change was noticeable. The fixed, manic grin that had characterized the Exorcists' masks for centuries was gone. Now, they were like statues—still and expressionless. There was no laughter, no racing to kill a sinner, no cruel games. They descended, they killed, and they left. There was no interest in making a soul suffer; they ended them with a single blow. Always aiming for the head.
During the descent, Abel and Lute never strayed from each other. More than sentiment, it was because Abel wanted to search for Vagatha. It sounded foolish, and it was highly likely the Exorcist was already... dead. But he wouldn't give up until he at least recovered her body to give her a proper burial in Heaven, so her soul could return to God.
Lute didn't seem annoyed; she seemed conflicted. After feeling the evil burn away through the Flame of Faith, it was hard to tell if she felt regret for what she’d done. She had been angry—furious, even. But she knew she shouldn't have gone that far. She vaguely remembered that it was because of Vagatha that she had gone to speak with Abel when they were distanced. Even Vagatha’s recommendations had been reasonable, like focusing on strategy and defense rather than just offense. She didn't hate the Exorcist, but she felt nothing but guilt for what she had done to her. It was still difficult to name her feelings, knowing she wasn't supposed to feel anything at all, but Abel told her that feeling wasn't wrong, and she chose to believe him—even if it went against her very essence.
Three years passed with no sign of the outcast. They didn't have much time to search anyway; they had to follow protocol, and the time limit combined with the chaos of their presence in Hell made it difficult. They were on their own in the search, as Sera had made it clear the matter was to be forgotten.
This year, as soon as the Extermination ended, Abel received a golden scroll to the face—literally. After congratulating the Exorcists and heading to his office with Lute to start the usual paperwork, the scroll appeared with a flash of light over his eyes. Abel pulled the paper off his face in embarrassment, noticing Lute leaning in with a slight smirk.
Sera wanted them both in her office immediately. The blonde looked confused, while the Lieutenant grew focused on the reason for the summons. Abel raised his arm, forming a portal in the empty hallway, and they stepped through into the Seraph’s office.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, anxious. Seeing Sera for anything other than paperwork always made him nervous, though he tried to feign calm.
"Yes, I have something important to communicate. I would appreciate your participation," the Seraph spoke in her "pleasant-for-humans" form. "I apologize for the suddenness, especially after an Extermination, but it is necessary."
"Of course, Highness," Lute replied professionally.
"Fine," Sera announced with slight annoyance. "I need you to go to the conference room. You will be meeting with the Princess of Hell. Morningstar, as usual, knows nothing of responsibility and has decided to send his wayward daughter to a meeting as a substitute for his presence. Normally, I would go, or even the First Man, but I believe it is appropriate for the Leader and his Lieutenant to finally have a meeting with a Morningstar. She will be Queen one day, and you will have to discuss the Extermination treaty with her. It is time to take on more responsibility."
Abel blinked, processing the words. "You want us to meet with the Devil’s daughter, Highness?" Lute asked neutrally.
"Yes. Normally, meetings aren't held right after an Extermination, but this one is specifically to announce a new time limit. You are already aware of the six-month advancement; this meeting was to announce it to the King, but it seems he has better things to do than look after his kingdom."
It was true. The Exterminations had been moved forward—the waiting time reduced by half to purge more souls. Abel didn't know why the higher-ups had decided this, but he was powerless. At first, he was indignant. The Extermination was exhausting for everyone, not to mention the risks to the Exorcists. With twice the purges in a year, the damage would only be amplified. Still, he couldn't dismiss the order. His protests fell on deaf ears; it was as if the Exorcists were just disposable meat. Now he understood how Lute had arrived at the mindset of being a weapon rather than a living being—how could she think otherwise if she was treated as such?
"So, we meet the Princess to announce the advancement. That’s all?" he asked.
"Exactly. It will be quick. You don't need to descend; you'll use the projection room. The meeting is in a few minutes, and I’m sure Morningstar hasn't told his daughter about the change yet. You'll arrive in time."
"We will do it, Highness," Lute bowed slightly, and Abel followed suit.
Upon leaving, they headed to the indicated room. On the way, Abel began to wonder. "What do you think the Princess will be like? I only know a little about her father from what my parents told me as a child, and it wasn't much."
"She’s a demonic being. Most likely, she’s just like the people in Hell," Lute replied with a frown.
"I hope she doesn't get upset with the announcement," Abel said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I don't agree with the advancement either, but I hope she doesn't attack us or something."
"She won't do much, as we won't be there physically. We’ll just be holograms at the Embassy." Her eyes darkened. "If we were there in person and she decided to attack you, I would cut her hands off before she could even try."
Abel laughed dryly, used to his guardian’s protective, terrifying side. "We can't harm Hell-borns. I think the Princess falls into that circle."
"Rules don't matter when it comes to you," she replied firmly.
Abel nearly tripped hearing that, but managed a crooked smile as a strange feeling settled in his chest. They reached the projection room. He opened the doors and looked inside. It was a replica of the conference room at the Heaven Embassy. A large table surrounded by chairs. He sat at the far right; Lute followed closely. He wondered if he should remove his mask. Lute was still in her uniform, stained with blood.
Before he could think further, someone entered the doors on the other side.
"Hello?" A young woman with blonde hair and a red suit entered cautiously, looking around. "Is anyone... here?"
"Welcome, Princess of Hell," Abel said kindly.
The girl jumped. "Holy shit—!" She fell to the floor in shock but quickly scrambled up, nervous. "Hi! My name is Charlie! My dad told me I’d be meeting with you!"
She spoke with a tense smile, but Abel couldn't judge her. He felt the same. "Yes, I was also told I’d be meeting with you."
"Well... it's a pleasure to meet you!" She offered her hand as she approached.
"Ah, yes. Likewise." Out of courtesy, he raised his own hand to greet her, only to remember that physical contact was impossible. He felt like a fool.
"Wow, what—?"
"Sorry! I forgot for a second, oops," he laughed to hide his embarrassment, feeling Lute’s judging gaze. "We aren't here. I mean, not here here, because we are here, but—I mean, we aren't down there with you."
He spoke so fast the blonde woman blinked in confusion. "So... you aren't here," she repeated. He nodded. "But why? I thought..."
"We aren't allowed to descend unless it’s for the Extermination. Plus... I was told about this at the last minute."
"Oh." The Princess seemed discouraged but shook it off, returning to her positive attitude. "Well, even so, I’m glad to have the chance to meet you. I have a project I've been working on that I really want to talk to you about and—"
"I apologize for interrupting again, Princess," Abel stopped her gently. "But it's necessary that you know the reason for this meeting. It's important."
Charlie’s face fell again, but she forced a smile. "Ah, right. This probably isn't for swapping stories, haha, sorry." She adjusted her bow tie reflexively.
"Don't worry. And I’d appreciate it if you took what I’m about to announce calmly." Abel clasped his hands and took a deep breath. From what he saw, the Devil’s daughter didn't seem aggressive, but it was best to ask for calm. "The Exterminations are being moved forward by six months."
The expected silence followed. Lute watched with a neutral expression, prepared for anything.
"The Exterminations... what?"
Abel winced. "The waiting time between Exterminations will be reduced. It will now happen twice a year. I'm sorry."
"No, no... you can't do that!" the Princess cried. "They’re souls! Human souls just like the ones living in Heaven with you! You can't just kill them as if they were nothing!"
"They are not the same," Lute said coldly. "They had their chance and earned their sentences."
"You're wrong," Charlie said with desperation. "Sinners made mistakes, but we all make mistakes sometimes!"
"Mistakes?!" Lute snapped. "How can you speak such blasphemy before my master? Sinners do not deserve to be treated as humans; they gave up their humanity to wallow in sin, and that’s why they rot down there!"
The Princess did not take the words well. Her expression transformed into one of rage, black markings appeared around her eyes, and her hair flickered in the air. "They were wrong, and they deserve the chance to change! You can't deny their humanity!"
Before Lute could approach the hologram, Abel’s arm blocked her path. "Lute, we aren't here to fight." Abel turned back to Charlie, who had returned to her normal appearance, though still frowning. "Princess, I understand your anger. I don't agree with these changes either, but there is nothing we can do."
"But we can do something!" she protested. "My project is based on giving a second chance to souls who want to be better. I want to make redemption possible, so they can ascend. That way, we reduce the population without having to kill innocents!"
"Innocents?! Do you even know the kind of scum that inhabits your kingdom?" Lute was fed up with the woman's nonsense.
"They aren't scum!" Charlie yelled, slamming her hands on the table.
"You want to... redeem sinners?" Abel asked.
Charlie looked at him, encouraged by being heard. "Yes! I have a hotel where I house sinners who want to go to Heaven. I only have one guest so far—but if you give me enough time, you'll see it's possible!"
Redeem sinners. Abel didn't think such a thing could work. Jesus had forgiven people’s sins in his time because he gave the ultimate show of love and faith—his life. These sinners had gone through God’s judgment and had not been forgiven. If it were possible, that would mean Cain...
God, he wanted to vomit.
"Sir?"
"I—I’m fine," he replied to Lute’s concern. He took a breath. "Charlie, I’m not sure something like that will succeed. Much less that they would approve a project so... ambitious."
"You can try to get them to approve it! You're the leader of the Exorcists. I know they'll listen to you. You're..." The Princess tried to say his name but failed; she realized he had never given it.
"I’m Abel," he said, smiling nervously.
Charlie blinked, her eyes narrowing as the pieces clicked into place. "Abel? As in, the son of Adam? So you're...?" Her eyes went wide. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. "Shit. I'm so sorry—I didn't know you were—"
"The victim of the first sinner? Yeah, sure," Lute said with mockery. "Save your words. If it weren't for your Daddy giving you a pardon, I would have cut your tongue out for your lies."
The Princess shrank back. She felt like an idiot.
"Enough, Lute," Abel said, hand over his brow. Even with the mask, the effort to keep the conversation on track was clear. "The Princess didn't know who I was, and it doesn't matter. You can't threaten her for that." He looked back at Charlie. "Forgive my Lieutenant. she can be a bit extreme."
"No, no. You forgive me. I didn't want to sound like I was minimizing what you went through. That must have been... horrible."
Abel let out a dry laugh. He really didn't want to delve into his death or how the possibility of redemption was making his head spin. "Pfft, no. It was a long time ago. Like they say, the past is buried in the mud."
"Listen, Princess Charlie," the human’s tone grew serious. "I only came here to announce the advancement of the Exterminations. I hate this as much as you do, but I can't do much to help you." He thought for a moment. "I’ll do my best to mention your idea as a second option for reducing the population, but I promise nothing."
Lute looked at him with bewilderment. She knew Abel was not in favor of the demon’s project. Charlie, meanwhile, was overjoyed.
"I... I really appreciate it, thank you!"
"It's nothing," he replied.
"Sorry for getting defensive," Charlie rambled. "I came here so motivated. And when I saw you didn't seem like the bloodthirsty angels who come down to kill thousands, I thought I had a chance. I believe anyone can be redeemed, but I know there are people in my kingdom who... won't seek my help. Repentance is the first step, and I know not everyone feels that. But I’ve seen people who do, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to save them."
Abel looked at her and formed a small, real smile. "Hell will be in good hands with you, Charlie. We’ll see each other in six months. Hopefully longer."
"See you," she smiled back.
The hologram vanished. The room fell silent. Abel leaned against the doors. With a trembling hand, he removed his helmet and gasped for air. Lute was at his side immediately, grabbing his shoulders.
"Sir. You don't have to do this. You owe that demon nothing."
"It’s... it's fine." He wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve. "It’s just a recommendation I’ll give Sera. If she approves it, you and the girls won't have to go down and be contaminated anymore. Everyone wins."
"No sinner will ever ascend. It would be a danger to the souls of Heaven. To you," Lute gripped his shoulders tighter. "Please, don't do this."
"It will only happen if God deems someone worthy. I trust His judgment."
Abel straightened up. "Come on, the girls must be waiting at the barracks for their routine check-up."
Abel opened a portal and waited for his guardian to cross first. He stopped for a moment to look at the room, at the door where the Princess had entered. He hadn't expected such a proposal. He never believed someone, especially the Devil’s daughter, could have so much faith. It was almost contradictory.
He entered the portal. He expected to see Lute talking to the girls about their weapons, but instead, he found her standing before a group in the center of the barracks. All the Exorcists were in a circle, whispering.
"Sir," Lute’s voice was cold and low. A bad sign. "They have something to tell you."
Abel was confused. The Exorcists known as Harper and Shira looked at each other nervously. "It’s... it’s Roni," Harper said, on the verge of a breakdown. "She... she was murdered. We were about to finish a trio of sinners quickly, but..."
Murdered? Angels couldn't die. They were untouchable.
"We were so shocked we backed away when the bells rang! It was a mistake!" Shira screamed with fury. "We didn't know something like this could happen! I didn't think I’d see her... her head cut from her body! That sinner’s shoes were made of angelic steel! I know it!" Shira burst into tears. "They used our own weapons against us!"
Abel grit his teeth. He spoke words of comfort to them. They would find Roni’s body no matter what.
When they informed Sera, she was hysterical. Death was a concept foreign to angels. They were told to keep it secret. Sera berated them for leaving weapons behind. Heaven was in chaos. Throughout the meeting, Abel never brought up the Princess’s proposal.
It wasn't worth it.
Lute took him to a small room to see what a drone camera had found. A body, covered in glowing golden angelic blood, lay on the ground. The head was nowhere to be found. The body was covered in bite marks, tossed in an alley filled with trash. The sight was repulsive. A drone was sent to retrieve the remains.
That cold night, Lute stayed in his room. She offered him comfort, and he accepted it. This Extermination had been the most horrific of all. He thought things could get better, but then the malice of the world came to prove him wrong.
The idea of redemption was overshadowed by the repulsive acts of those the Princess sought to save.
..................................................................
There was no time to rest; against all odds, the Princess had somehow managed to secure an audience with the angels. For some strange reason, Sera had granted Lucifer's surprise request to give his daughter a chance to present her proposal. The Seraph had tried to persuade the Morningstar with kindness and respect, but the Devil remained resolute. It was the first time in years that Sera had heard the former Angel of Light speak with such stubbornness.
She informed the representative angels of each Ring of Heaven. Every part of this hearing was a headache for the Seraph. She wasn't sure if she had agreed out of the lingering residues of fraternal love for the Fallen one, or because deep down, she knew it was best to nip the idea in the bud.
Lilith would surely be proud, Sera thought with slight annoyance. Even if her daughter has a different vision than her own.
News of the meeting with the Princess reached the Commander and his Lieutenant directly from the Seraph’s own mouth. After all, Abel and Lute were in charge of the Exterminations and were directly linked to the subject at hand, as sinners were the core issue.
Sera found it curious that Lucifer, in his request, had mentioned something vague about whether she had already been informed of the young Princess’s proposal. She had, of course, denied such a thing. Lucifer brushed the topic aside and returned to explaining why it was necessary for Charlie to have an audience.
Sera noticed a flicker of recognition on the faces of the human and his guardian. Lute’s brow furrowed—too subtly for anyone else to notice—and Abel’s eyes widened slightly before he returned to his relaxed facade.
Today was the moment; she had to put an end to the Devil’s daughter's wild ideas. Redemption is only possible for mortals on Earth—those who have yet to pass through Divine Judgment.
She would need support to achieve this, and she already knew exactly who was best for the task.
God did not need to be involved in this; Sera could solve it herself. That was her purpose.
She would fulfill it, no matter what.
..................................................................
The months that followed the Extermination were a blur for Abel. It was like watching a movie of your own life play out before you.
He remembered Roni’s honorary funeral—the sobs of her comrades as they carried the wooden casket on their shoulders until finally letting her rest in her favorite place: the clouds where she used to sit and watch the sunrise.
An angel’s body was different from a human’s. It didn't decompose like common organic matter; it could last millennia without a sign of change. The only way to make an angel vanish was to extract their core—their very essence. The weapon that had beheaded her had damaged that essence, breaking her being both physically and spiritually, granting her such an unnatural death. The High Seraph, who had assisted in her creation, touched the body to drain what remained of her essence, making her one with Heaven and God. The coffin was merely a symbol—a material object representing her person. Inside lay her uniform, washed and stitched where she had been bitten, along with her few belongings: a poster of a popular human dance and a braided bracelet Harper had learned to make at the beginning of the division, back before they ever descended into the abyss.
Abel didn't cry; he felt detached from it all. The girls saw him and looked on in confusion before quickly averting their gaze. Lute surely had something to do with that, but at the time, he didn't care.
When it all ended and everyone retreated to their respective places of rest, he unconsciously grabbed a piece of the white-haired warrior’s clothing. He startled himself doing so, pulling away and telling her it was nothing and she could leave. Lute clearly didn't believe him, asking if he wanted her to stay—she wanted a sincere answer.
With a heavy heart, he said yes. She said nothing more and accompanied him to his room to be by his side. This had become a frequent occurrence over the last year.
Everything he hadn't felt during the day, he expressed at night, breaking down in the darkness of his room in the warrior’s arms. Lute didn't need to say anything; the simple act of holding him and covering him with her grey wings was enough.
Proximity had always been frequent between them. She existed because of him, and he needed her as much as he craved company. She was his guardian angel, and he was the human who was supposed to be her entire world. Lute always emphasized this depending on the situation, and Abel had felt uncomfortable at first. It was a cold, robotic devotion, devoid of emotions that would prove their relationship was anything more than artificial.
He couldn't say exactly when it began to change—when she started speaking a bit more, or when he began to feel more comfortable in her presence. It was something spontaneous he thought would never happen. But now he had someone who cared for him sincerely—or so he forced himself to believe.
Lute was hard to read, especially regarding subtle emotions. She had claimed many times to be merely a weapon for him to wield, a shield if he needed it. But then there were those everyday moments where she smiled slightly, or stared too long at something that interested her—things like humming a song he sang or helping him learn to use his wings.
They had been together for thousands of years. Too long for anyone; too long for something not to change. But that was the problem: Abel knew they had changed, but he didn't know how. It was always pleasant to be with Lute, but there were moments where he felt strange by her side. Sometimes it was a "bad strange" that tightened his chest, and other times a strange feeling that made him want to cling to his pillow and scream all night over silly thoughts. If he was unlucky, he felt both.
Especially now, when he was so tired and needed someone to tell him everything would be okay. When he carried so much weight on his shoulders, with the Exorcists' eyes seeking his guidance and the Seraph asking him to take on more responsibilities. Lute was the only one who kept him grounded in reality, helping him with paperwork or giving orders to the girls when he didn't know what to say.
Abel and Lute were very different. They saw things differently and did things differently, but they were together and could not be separated. Abel knew what happened when two people so distinct were with one another; sooner or later, both sides would end badly.
His parents were an example of that.
So, he did what he knew best: he let his thoughts scatter with the wind. He thought of nothing but what he held in his hands. Perhaps every now and then a problematic thought would slip through, and he would simply shake his head and focus on something else.
One of his activities to clear his mind was going out to the streets to buy desserts. He was fascinated by the culinary creations of his family's descendants. This was one of those afternoons where he could take a break from everything happening with Sera or the Exorcists. He loved the girls, but even after some time, the atmosphere remained melancholic from the loss of Roni.
He was walking through the streets eating a glazed strawberry cake. Lute, as always, was by his side. She wasn't in her full Exorcist uniform, wearing only the cloth garments, her metallic gloves, and her boots. Abel wore his Commander’s clothes but without the jacket or the angelic steel pieces, all for comfort.
Everything was normal—just an afternoon like any other in his long years of existence. At least, until it wasn't.
Passing quickly beside them was the younger Seraph, enthusiastically leading two other people. Both Abel and Lute immediately recognized the blonde with red eyes and markings on her cheeks, but her companion was different.
"Is that Princess Charlie?" he asked the air, a spoon full of cream held ready, but unbitten. "How is she...?"
"Sir, the woman beside her," Lute pointed out with concentration and seriousness.
Abel narrowed his eyes and focused on the woman next to the Princess. Long white hair adorned with a pink bow. The woman turned around, and then the human could see her face. Greyish skin like all his former comrades and, above all, her missing left eye.
He couldn't believe it. After three years of knowing nothing, she appeared before them out of the blue. Abel dropped his cake and gasped as he realized who the woman was—who was heading off with the Princess and Emily.
"Oh my God, it can't be!" He couldn't contain the volume of his voice, a nervous smile forming. "It’s Vaggi! She’s alive! I knew it, I knew she couldn't have died down there. I was right—!"
He was cut off in his excitement as Lute’s hand yanked the collar of his clothes to pull him close.
"Shh, sir, we are in public. We cannot speak of life and death here," she whispered cautiously. Abel looked around; some people were staring at them oddly. He felt his cheeks heat up.
"Ah, yes, sorry. I just..." He cleared his throat when Lute let him go. "It’s just, I can't believe it. Vaggi is here. I don't know how or why, but she's okay."
"It is surprising. Suspicious, perhaps."
"Suspicious? Why would it be suspicious?" he asked. "Lute, Vaggi is alive after being missing for three years. The reasons don't matter; she's alive." He grew excited again. "In fact, we should go talk to her. I'm sure she has a lot to tell us about what happened. I don't know exactly what her link to the Princess is, but she’ll tell us."
"Sir, wait." Lute grabbed his arm to stop him, then let go when Abel halted. "We should think this through. We don't know why she is with that spawn—"
Abel’s hard stare stopped her. She pressed her lips together in annoyance.
"With the Princess," she corrected. "It is better to wait and think before doing something imprudent."
"You should listen to your Lieutenant, Abel." Grey and purple wings enveloped them, and the sudden travel startled them—or perhaps it was the voice of the person who moved them.
They were transported to the High Seraph’s office, where she stood watching them with moderate anger.
"Sera," Abel greeted her, uneasy. He hadn't expected her to be involved, but he should have guessed; otherwise, he didn't see how Charlie would be up here.
"Highness, excuse the question, but what is the Devil’s daughter doing here?" Lute asked.
"And why is Vaggi with her?" Abel added.
"They couldn't contain the evil in Hell, and now Lucifer has involved himself," Sera said sternly. "He requested an audience for his wayward daughter." She walked toward the window to look at the streets full of pure souls. "I wouldn't have approved those annual activities if I had known it would bring another Morningstar to my door. I permitted it because it was the most sensible way to protect Heaven."
"You want us to do something, don't you?" the human asked wearily.
Sera turned to them and nodded. "I want you to do whatever is necessary to end this problem." The Seraph approached the blonde and leveled her gaze with his, her face dead serious. "Understood?"
Abel held her gaze, clenching his fists before finally giving in. "Yes, ma'am."
..................................................................
Both walked through the halls of the residence where the Seraph had said the Princess and her companion would be staying. Sera hadn't mentioned why Vaggi was there; she didn't know her relationship with the Princess. They would have to find out through their own words.
The blonde didn't want to do this, but he had no other choice. If he wanted to stop the Princess from presenting her project to the angels, he had to go to a point of reference. The only person who seemed connected to Charlie was the former Exorcist.
He felt nervous as he stood before the room's door. He took a breath and glanced at Lute by his side. Ever firm, she gave a slight nod, urging him to knock. He did.
An annoyed groan was heard from inside, followed by footsteps approaching. Then, the door swung open.
The outcast’s eyes widened in shock. Abel offered a nervous smile and a small wave.
"Hi, Vagatha. Long time no see," he said, not quite knowing how to start.
She looked at them both, and her expression shifted instantly. She scowled; she looked incredibly irritated.
"My name is Vaggi."
"Oh, you want to use your nickname? No problem! I just thought, since we hadn't seen each other after—"
"No," she interrupted. "Vaggi is my name now. Vagatha is a dead name to me." She crossed her arms, the anger in her gaze never wavering. "And the reason we haven't seen each other is simple: you banished me and threw me out like trash years ago."
"Y-yes, about that. Well—"
"The reason for your banishment was that you betrayed what you swore to protect," Lute spoke this time, receiving a searing glare from Vaggi.
"It was just a child! How can you expect me to kill—?"
"You know as well as anyone that children do not go to Hell. It was just a sinner with the appearance of one. Likely because their sin had something to do with it." The Lieutenant stood her ground.
"You can't be sure of that. There might be things Heaven never told us," the fallen angel replied just as firmly. "You all are quite good at hiding things from others."
"Watch your words—"
"Alright, enough." Abel stepped between the two; the last thing he wanted was a fight in the hallway. He breathed and looked at Vaggi again. "We didn't come here to fight. We were looking for you since... since what happened to you. Nothing justifies what Lute did to you. I am so sorry, Vaggi."
The woman seemed to relax slightly at the human’s words, but it didn't erase the pain in her eyes.
"Apologies are worthless now," she said. "What do you want? I know you aren't here to catch up."
"We would love to hear from you." Lute didn't seem to agree, but Abel continued. "You must have gone through a lot, especially ending up beside Princess Charlie."
The former soldier tensed at the name. "Don't you dare bring Charlie into this."
"No, no, no, no! I was just curious! I’m not trying to threaten you or anything, really!" Abel waved his hands dismissively.
"Charlie is everything to me." Vaggi’s gaze softened. "If it weren't for her, I don't know where I would have ended up."
"She seems like the type of person who helps everyone," Abel said with a smile, remembering the day he met the Princess.
"Not everyone deserves that help," Lute cut in, earning a furious look. "I’m not talking about you, but the kind of scum she tries to save."
"If she believes she can, she will. She’ll never give up, even if everyone laughs in her face," Vaggi defended the Princess fervently. "It’s something I love about her, and I know she’ll succeed with her hotel. She is kind—unlike other people."
The words were clearly aimed at her visitors.
"Wait... 'love'? So you two are...?"
Vaggi raised an eyebrow but said nothing to clarify. Abel covered his mouth to stifle a gasp. Well, he hadn't expected the relationship between Vaggi and Charlie to be... romantic. Though, thinking about it, he should have connected the dots seeing them together and how Charlie smiled at her—they even shared a single room.
"Your love is a blasphemy," Lute said sternly. "An angel and a demon should not be together. It is insulting to God."
"I am no longer an angel. You know that because you tore away everything that ever made me one," Vaggi spat back.
"Please, girls..." Abel whispered uncomfortably. Lute stepped back, but Vaggi didn't drop her hostile stance. "Vaggi, like I said, what we did to you was horrific. I am responsible too. And I’m so sorry. Believe me, we would have found another way to handle things. I would have done anything to keep you from that fate."
The woman stopped scowling and relaxed her posture, looking thoughtful.
"I hate what you did to me. Being mutilated and left half-blind was shit. I don't think I can ever forgive you for that. But... I wouldn't trade meeting Charlie for anything. If I had to suffer banishment a thousand times over, I’d do it for her."
Abel blinked, watching Vaggi speak with such love for the Princess, willing to suffer if it meant being by her side.
So different, he thought, yet together in the end.
He prayed internally that their differences wouldn't tear them apart. Perhaps everything he knew was wrong. He hoped so.
"I’m happy for you, Vaggi," he said sincerely. "I really am."
He was pulled from his moment of genuine happiness by an elbow to his side. Lute was watching him calculatingly.
"Oh," he said, remembering. He didn't want to ruin the mildly friendly atmosphere he’d managed with Vaggi, but...
"What? Is something wrong?" the fallen angel asked cautiously.
"Well... you see." Abel swallowed hard and prepared for the worst. "At the hearing... we want you to persuade Charlie to give up on her project."
Vaggi’s first reaction was surprise, then recognition, which turned to indignation, and finally, a dry laugh and a scowl.
"Of course. Of course you were looking for some leverage from me to get to Charlie. And I’m here like an idiot believing your fake apologies."
"That’s not it! What I said was sincere!" Abel said desperately. "But this is out of my hands. I need you to help me with this, Vaggi, please." Seeing her about to close the door, he tried another way. "At least act like you want to stop her. It doesn't have to be true; I just need the angels to see that an attempt was made to persuade the Princess and it didn't work."
Vaggi seemed to think it over and sighed. "I won't destroy Charlie’s dreams," she said. "You won't change my mind."
Abel lowered his head and nodded. He knew it, but he had to try. "I understand." He stepped away from the door. "It was nice talking again. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy. I’ll see you in court."
Lute was about to follow the blonde but stopped. Before the door could close, she shoved her boot in to stop it. The sound of metal clicking against the frame made both Abel and Vaggi stop. Confused, the woman opened the door again, about to ask what she wanted.
"Do you remember Roni?"
The one-eyed girl blinked at the question, searching her memories. "Yes," she replied. "She was two rows behind mine. Why?"
Vaggi had never been very social with the Exorcists; she had her small circle of close friends. After Hope left under pressure, the others slowly followed until only she remained in the troops. Roni had been energetic and occasionally annoying, but she wasn't "evil" as such. At least, not as Vaggi remembered. They had all changed over time, becoming more sadistic during the Exterminations. Roni belonged to that group, but Vaggi still remembered when she was just a girl who enjoyed running laps around the barracks during morning training.
"She’s dead."
The words fell like a bucket of ice water over the fallen angel.
"Dead? But that’s... angels can't die. That’s—"
"Impossible?" Lute finished her thought. "Everyone thought so. We were wrong."
Vaggi’s mouth opened and closed; she had so much and yet nothing to say.
"Her grave is east of the barracks. Among the clouds, you’ll see some flowers. That’s where she is."
With that said, Lute went to Abel’s side, who had stood further away listening to them.
"Why are you telling me this?" Vaggi finally managed to form a coherent sentence.
Lute turned back, her face neutral but softer. "You were part of the Exorcists. They all know and mourned her loss. You deserve to know, just like everyone else who fought by her side."
She returned to the Commander’s side. Abel looked at Lute, then at Vaggi, giving her a tired but encouraging look. Both walked away until they rounded the corner. Vaggi remained leaning against the doorframe. This information was unexpected. She didn't know how to feel. It was a jumble of emotions.
Charlie wouldn't be ready for the hearing for a while. Maybe... she could go out and come back quickly before the Princess returned.
..................................................................
Abel hadn't expected everything to end in a counterattack from Hell against Heaven.
In the hearing, everything seemed to be going well. The Princess showed a guest through a sphere of light provided by Sera. Emily supported Charlie's cause, and the High Seraph listened to everything with delicacy. Even though Sera had ordered Abel to stop this, the presence and positivity of the younger Seraph made her waver.
At a critical point, they reached the question of what brings a soul to Heaven. The Ten Commandments existed as a solid foundation, coming from God Himself. But the doubt remained: why had some "Winners" ascended even after failing to keep certain commandments?
Everything exploded during a direct confrontation between Charlie’s intentions and the righteousness of other angels in the room. Lute was one of them, holding a firm stance regarding sinners. Amidst the back-and-forth, the secret of the Exterminations accidentally slipped out. Emily was unaware, and this was not the appropriate way for the news to reach the assembled angels. The fight between the two Seraphim and the murmurs of the crowd broke out instantly. It was even revealed that Vaggi was part of the Exorcists—a low blow delivered by Lute, and Abel wasn't sure why she had done it.
The hearing ended with a scream from Sera to maintain order; she herself was visibly shaken by the chaos. The verdict was that the Hazbin Hotel did not prove its results. Protests followed, but Charlie and Vaggi were sent back to Hell as the session ended.
The tension did not dissipate. Sera was disappointed; everyone left the room, leaving the Seraphim alone to speak in private. One month remained until the next Extermination, and Abel didn't know what to do. It was supposed to be like previous times, but after the failure of the hearing, he felt something would go wrong.
He was right.
As soon as he opened the portal for the troops to descend, he saw that the sinners were armed. The city, which usually wallowed in chaos on Extermination day, seemed slightly more organized. Their weapons glowed with divine energy—it couldn't be real.
Abel stepped in front of the girls, who looked indignant that their own weapons were being used against them. Roni's wound was still fresh in their minds, and this only fueled the animosity fed by Hell's toxic atmosphere.
"Stop!" he shouted. "We don't want conflict, please! We are only doing as we were ordered!"
"And we want to live!" a sinner shouted back.
"You've killed us for thousands of years and say you don't want conflict? Suck my dick!"
More shouts rose; the group of armed sinners cheered with hatred toward the angels. Abel crossed paths with the Princess; of course, she was there. But she didn't look happy.
"How dare they!" Lute hissed, sword in hand, her metal glove tightening its grip.
"Enough! We aren't looking for violence! The weapons are for defense—!" the young Morningstar cried out.
A loud shot rang out. Then, the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. Abel spun his head toward the girls behind him.
"ELI!" one of them screamed in anguish.
The massacre began.
Multiple shots rang out alongside the rushing wind of wings. Cries of fury from both sides filled the Ring. Lute planted herself at Abel's side, striking the air to deflect bullets. Abel quickly activated his magic and summoned his golden staff with a heavy heart. He looked everywhere; every corner was a different fight. Sinners being wounded, Exorcists falling too. Bodies littered the ground.
This was wrong. Everything was terribly fucked up. He had to stop this now—perhaps even retreat. So many thoughts crossed his mind that he barely noticed the transformation of two colossal dragons flying near him.
"Abel!" the Princess's voice rang out. She was riding a red-furred creature. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think they would do something like this!"
"You didn't think?!" Lute screamed with fury, moving to attack the Princess, but another dragon intervened.
"She had no idea! Leave her out of it!" Vaggi was atop the other creature. "It’s best if you retreat! We can avoid more deaths!"
"Don't give me your shit! Your sisters are dying because of your girlfriend’s idiocy! Don't you feel anything for that?!" Lute yelled, pointing her sword at Charlie.
"OF COURSE I FEEL SOMETHING, YOU GODDAMN BITCH! THAT’S WHY I’M TELLING YOU TO LEAVE BEFORE THEY KILL MORE OF YOU!" Vaggi had reached her limit.
Lute was fed up. Exorcists were dying at the hands of humanity's worst scum, and the human she was created for—the one she had to protect—was in total danger. There was no other choice but to escape.
"Sir, we have to—!"
An explosion shook the skyscrapers. A massive airship had dropped bombs in their direction. Lute rushed to the human to check his state. Luckily, the pilot had missed them, but the building behind her collapsed into rubble.
"Pentious!" Charlie cried out between joy and alarm. "Why did you do that?!"
"Princess, fear not! I shall protect you no matter the cost!" a sibilant voice came from the machine's speakers.
"We weren't being attacked! Dammit, that’s why we told you to stay with the others on the ground!" Vaggi barked.
"Oh, really?" asked the other person foolishly.
Lute cared little for what the idiot Princess and her friends were saying. She focused only on the human. "Sir, answer me. Can you hear me?"
Abel’s mask reflected his disconnection from the world. It was a panic attack, and this was the worst place to have one. The white-haired warrior sheathed her sword and placed both hands on his face, pulling him close.
"Sir, I need you to listen. We are leaving, and everything will be okay. Breathe, please. You'll be fine."
The holographic eyes of the mask flickered. Then, they widened, and he pushed her back abruptly. "Sorry, I’m just... disoriented." Abel shook his head and gripped his staff tighter. "We have to retreat."
"Give the order. I’ll be right behind you."
He nodded and flew up to get a better view. The Exorcists were on a killing spree, driven by hatred. The sinners might have been armed, but the Exorcists had training. They dodged angelic steel weapons with cold, sharp calculation. Some were wounded; hand-to-hand combat was their strength, but they couldn't fight when the enemy had ranged weapons like guns and cannons.
Abel took a breath and raised his voice. "All Exorcists, fall back! We're leaving!"
The soldiers looked up in conflict. Many wanted to make the sinners pay, but it was an order. They swallowed their rage and gathered their weapons before flying toward the portal. Lute was dodging bombs as the troops passed through. She glanced at the Commander; he hadn't crossed yet.
"Sir, go to the portal. I’ll be—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Something slammed into her shoulder, piercing her armor and tearing through her physical body. It wasn't just a hit; whatever had been fired hooked into her back. She was yanked toward the ground and slammed down hard.
"Lute!" Abel cried, flying toward the ground at top speed.
The Lieutenant struggled against the object pinned in her shoulder. The "parasites" had used a harpoon-style crossbow with a rope to pull her from the sky. Worse, the spear was wedged in her bone. If she ripped it out, she would lose her left arm.
"Goddamn sons of bitches..." she hissed. It burned like a thousand suns. Perhaps now she understood why Vaggi looked at her with such resentment. She drew her sword and tried to cut the rope, but it was reinforced with steel. Sinners began to close in with malice.
"Shit!"
She heard wings behind her. "Sir, don't come closer!" she pleaded. "Go to Heaven! I’ll find a way—!"
"No!" he replied, terrified but resolute. "I’m not leaving here without you!"
The human dodged attacks. Shots rang out, and he saw sinners falling around him. He looked for the source.
"Charlie owes me a damn good explanation for this, but fuck it," a voice said—a four-armed spider demon holding a pistol in each hand.
Abel gave a quick look of gratitude and kept flying through the chaos. Suddenly, something hit his wings. A sharp pain pierced him, and he fell. Small daggers were embedded in his golden feathers. Bright blood leaked through. As more came, he acted. Raising his staff, he conjured his magic. A beam of divine light blasted from the staff, and the screams of sinners being disintegrated by God’s purity filled the air. Abel internally prayed for the peace of their souls.
He didn't know that group was a distraction. The sinners wanted revenge. And now they had the Leader of their tormentors served on a silver platter.
Lute saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, a shiny object was aimed at the human. A standard Exorcist lance—as if they wanted to mock him by killing him with his own soldiers' weapon.
As Abel focused on the other group, the lance was fired straight at his head.
Lute didn't think. She opened her wings and pushed off the ground with all her strength. She felt the tissues of her arm tear and snap. She screamed from the pain, from the rage, from everything she felt, and launched herself toward the human who was her world.
Her arm was left behind as she shoved Abel aside and took the lance directly in her right eye.
Abel, pushed away, saw his Lieutenant’s white hair. He saw the blood spraying from her face. His body didn't need an order from his brain to catch her.
"LUTE!" he screamed. "No... no, no... you're going to be okay. Just—just hold on."
The Lieutenant didn't answer. Then, she moved. She grabbed the handle of the lance embedded in her face and ripped it out with a single tug. Her eye remained stuck to the blade, leaving a hollow socket.
"Lute, what the—!"
She was furious. With a clean movement, she hurled the lance back at the sinner who had fired it. The sound of flesh being sliced was music to her ears.
"We're getting out of here," she rasped. "Can you fly?"
Abel moved his wings; the electric pain told him the daggers were deep. "Hold on." Lute grabbed his arms and placed them over her shoulders.
"No! You're—"
Abel didn't argue further. He ignored his own pain and swept the warrior up into his arms, carrying her. "You're the most injured one. Let me help you this time," he said firmly.
She looked at him in surprise, but Abel opened his wings and, stifling a groan, took to the air. Every beat was agonizing. Sinners tried to throw more bombs, but a pair intercepted them.
"Go! We'll handle this mess!" Vaggi's voice made him look. She wasn't on the dragon anymore; she had her own wings spread. "Yes, it’s best if you go back up. You need treatment," Charlie added, looking at the human with shame and sadness. "Abel, I’m sorry it ended like this. I didn't think..." She sighed, hardening her gaze. "This won't happen again, I promise."
Abel looked at her with doubt but finally nodded. "I hope so."
He flew through the portal, and the Grace of God welcomed them with warmth.
..................................................................
At some point, Lute succumbed to the blood loss. She woke up later, bolting upright in a panic, only to feel cramps everywhere. She groaned and curled into herself.
Only one arm responded. Lute looked at the left side of her body, seeing bandages and a stump where her limb should be. She touched her face; she couldn't even see her fingers on the right side because she lacked the eye to give her the full picture.
Amputated and half-blind. What irony. Karma had reached her, and surprisingly, she wasn't even upset. But she felt useless.
She looked around. She was in a familiar room. To her right, Abel was leaning against the mattress, sitting on the floor. His wings were covered in patches. The movement of the bed woke him.
"L-Lute!" he stammered. "Thank goodness you're awake. They said you'd be out for days, but you recover fast."
She blinked and looked at her single arm. "I... I’m truly sorry for what happened to you. All because I couldn't—"
"No," she denied. "This is my fault. I got distracted. Don't blame yourself."
"But your eye," he said. "If I had seen what they were planning, I could have prevented you from saving me and paying the price."
"You could have died," she replied emotionlessly. "I couldn't let them do that. You are valuable, sir."
"My life doesn't matter more than yours, Lute," Abel said, tentatively taking her hand. "Please, don't act like this is nothing..."
"You should replace me."
Abel raised his head, his face full of pain. "What?"
"I’m no longer useful to you. I’m not strong enough to protect you like this. My purpose is to be your guardian. How can I protect you if I can barely see or hold a sword?"
Abel squeezed her hand. "Lute, I don't care about that. What matters is that you're okay. I’m not going to replace you because you aren't someone who can be replaced. You are important to me. I want you by my side—you don't have to be my guardian. You can just be you."
Abel’s gaze was a kaleidoscope of fear, longing, and compassion.
"Yo were hurt because I wasn't strong enough. Do you really want me by your side even if I'm useless?" she asked weakly, finally showing how much her condition affected her.
Abel stroked the back of her hand, forming a small smile. "You aren't useless. You are the most valuable thing I have. No one stays unharmed forever; what happened isn't your fault."
"Nor yours," she said, making Abel chuckle.
"Yeah, not my fault either." He sat on the bed beside her and hugged her with desperation. "I’m so glad you're here..."
His voice was shaky. Lute could feel the dampness on her shoulder where his head rested. With her one arm, she pulled him close. Her chest tightened. Her vision blurred, and she closed her remaining eye to sink into Abel's warmth.
She would find a way to stay by his side. If she had to get a prosthesis just to hug him properly, she would. Abel was her world. The cold feeling of duty had transformed into something new. She was afraid of these feelings, but she let them be.
It was just the two of them in that moment. For the first time, Lute let her emotions out after years of guarding them, clinging to the blonde with all her strength. Two people supporting each other, longing for one another—that was all that existed that night.