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It wasn't until a month after her vessel had left that Morgante discovered her vessel had killed her.
There were a plurality of shared reasons why being an archangel was unpleasant. Still, every archangel had a few that were unique to them, or at least rare enough they'd never met another with them.
In Morgante's case, her own power was fickle, as willing to defy her as to defy anyone else. It wasn't rare for pieces to break loose and rebel against her, and she had grown unused to the necessity of watching for them.
(When Aleph was hunting her - well, they were useful decoys, or possibly spares. There wasn't always a way to tell which one was more real; As a rule of thumb, the destroyed ones were less real than those that persisted. After all, none of them could argue otherwise.)
She only discovered the evidence when she wandered slideways to Harbortown station again. She had found it to be one of the most comfortable places to watch humanity and the Mer-Line alike.
It wasn't like she couldn't go up to the mortal surface, of course. The Mer-Line may have had opinions on the proper locations for Archangels, but it didn't directly enforce them. That said, like with all of its false neutrality, it still would enforce its will.
From most mortal perspectives, none of the Mer-Line's trains ran above the ground. From an Archangel's perspective, the surface was crawling with them, and they were constantly passing through. Even if the Mer-Line played favorites, so many trains ran through that it had perfect plausible deniability for every collision.
(Given how often Aleph had been run over at just the right time to save her - the Mer-Line definitely played favorites, or at least least-favorites.)
Even at this moment, as she inspected her corpse, dozens of trains were flying through the station in various directions and dimensions. The platform itself was safe, that was what a train platform was for, but it was hardly as quiet or deserted as a mortal might perceive it to be.
She didn't feel like getting hit by a train today, but she had been feeling unsatisfied. So she had tucked herself down here - close enough to humanity to watch and listen, but not enough to participate. It wasn't like she really wanted to interact with mortals - but she had no peers among the archangels on the island. That was when she had found her (fragment's) corpse.
She didn't even know when it had created itself.
She wished she could talk to it. She wished she could fight it. She wished she could know what it had said to her vessel. She didn't know what she wanted. She wanted to not be alone, and to be somewhere new - but she didn't want to leave New Wirral. It was safe, peaceful, and the Mer-Line was positively reasonable in comparison to most archangels. So she sat, watching people like humans watched birds.
That was when it - she - hit Morgante.
---
There were a lot of things Morgante disliked about the Mer-Line. It refused to speak to her directly, only ever through its servants and actions. This might've been due to genuine necessity - it was so much bigger and stronger than she was - but it felt like an insult. It feigned neutrality while playing favorites. It sent a Magikrab to deal with her vessel while she had been reforming, but she'd only ever gotten the Equilibriums. [1] Also, over the course of the millennia she'd spent in New Wirral, it had run her over dozens of times.
At the moment, though, she was annoyed because it[2] had thrown someone directly at her before flying off.
[1] Equilibriums were rude, vaguely hostile, and openly looking for an excuse to fight. They weren't properly dangerous to archangels, but their customer service was terrible, and their habit of abusing fission ensured that she couldn't keep track of how many there were at any time. (While fleeing Aleph, she had needed to fight them a few times, usually because she was 'violating safety rules' and 'putting other passengers in danger'.) [Their grudge might have been justified. It still didn't mean Morgante enjoyed dealing with them.]
[2] In practice, it had probably been an Equilibrium, especially given how it hit her directly in the face. The Mer-Line, despite all its skills and power, was as good at throwing things as one would expect the Mer-Line to be. However, its servants had likely done it on the Mer-Line's orders, or something very close to them.
The girl bounced off of Morgante and hit the ground with a metallic clank. It was odd that she was a girl, because she was closer to an archangel than a human, at least from Morgante's perspective. Had Gwenivar - no, that would've felt very different. This was a -
An abomination, in the worst way possible. Someone had taken a fledgling archangel, likely younger than her own child before his death, and stitched a human shell around it - out of broken souls, the archangel herself, and corpses. It wasn't an old injury, either.
(Killing it might be a mercy.)
Morgante casually sliced through the fragment that formed with the thought. She would not be doing that!
But that still left the question of what she would do. (She gently shifted away from the fledgling. If they were anything like her child, they would wake violent and scared.)
(That should've been a warning sign, a portion of her thoughts hissed. The rest nodded, and let it float past. She didn't know if Mordread could've been saved, but she wasn't going to doubt it.)
The fledgling wasn't moving. Were they injured? Dead?
(A tiny part of her began considering how to murder the Mer-Line. The rest of her reminded them that the Mer-Line was stronger than even Aleph, for all that it tended towards neutrality. It might be better to aim her vengeance at whoever had done this to the fledgling - and the Mer-Line neither would nor could.)
Morgante moved a little closer to examine the fledgling. She was a born archangel, rather than a manifest or crafted one - her nature wrapped around herself loosely, still more potential rather than actuality. Morgante had never had the chance to choose her nature, but she'd heard such archangels did have a choice.
When Morgante tried to get a feel for it, a few incoherent images flashed through her mind. A wolf devouring a swarm of poisonous monsters. An undamaged suit of armor with a corpse inside, protected but not from the threat that mattered. A world half-dead and fading rapidly - the kind Aleph had preferred to ignore.
(Aleph had been capable of mercy, but he tended to only exercise that capacity when it was the crueler option.)
Morgante hoped their nature would be kinder to them than the materials it would be crafted from. Her own nature was - challenging.
She wouldn't trade it for anything, but it was like being leashed to one of the Mer-Line's trains. She could barely control the direction, and was constantly left scrambling to compensate. [Morgante's metaphor made more sense for how the Mer-Line's trains worked from an Archangelic perspective. From a human perspective, it was more like being tied onto a horse, though the metaphor was still a loose fit.]
Regardless, the fledgling was intact. She wasn't conscious, but she was merely sleeping - the injury had left nothing worse than bruises. None of the intangible scars that dotted her vessel were recent, or still bleeding.
(Morgante didn't want to know how one fledgling had gotten all of those scars. But she did want to track down whoever had done it and rip them to shreds.)
(A small portion of herself pointed out the hypocrisy. She'd done worse, when she was this new. A larger portion argued that she could rebel against her past self's values. She could be kinder than she had been; it wouldn't even be difficult to be a little bit better. The argument resonated and intensified in her head as she tried to think clearly.)
That was why she reflexively dodged a nonexistent train. Somehow, the fledgling had - moved in a manner similar to the Mer-Line's more abstract tracks. [From a human perspective, this dodge would have looked like shifting a centimeter to the left and two centimeters lower. From an Archangelic perspective, it would have looked like desperately diving for cover.] Because she hadn't been paying attention, it had startled her.
The fledgling had woken up, and darted to put some distance between them. In the space of an instant, she had hurled herself from one side of the station to the other.
"I mean you no harm, young one." Morgante called.
"where am i?" The fledgling asked, nature thrumming with tension and violence. Her quiet voice wasn't the deliberate maneuvering of Aleph, forcing you to strain to listen. She simply spoke as quietly as any mortal might.
"A place called Harbortown station, on a landmass called New Wirral." Morgante answered, "I am Morgante, might I know your name as well?"
"i'm rovia." Rovia answered, "is there a reason i arrived here?"
"If you are asking about intent, I am unaware of any. The Mer-Line drags in mortals and loose archangels alike, along with other dimensional debris." Morgante answered, "It is hardly the only scavenger-world out there, but it is one of the best-established and defended. The Mer-Line might have a purpose for you, but it is elusive and unlikely to provide context. Perhaps it only snared you by accident."
"what should i do then?" Rovia asked.
"Whatever you wish." Morgante said, "One such as I would hardly propose rules. Very little within this land can truly threaten you."
Rovia allowed her nature to subside and collapsed to the ground. After a minute, she began to cry.
(Morgante wished to interrupt, but rebelled against the desire. She couldn't be certain, but she suspected these tears were of a healing nature, rather than merely a symptom of an new injury. Whatever Rovia's origins were, they had been no kinder than her own. It might have merely been misplaced affection for her own child, but she hoped that would change soon.)
Morgante didn't know how long the fledgling cried for. She didn't leave it alone. She hoped her presence helped.
(Perhaps she could be for this child what she had failed to be for her own. Perhaps she could not. It hardly mattered. She would rebel against any suggestion she shouldn't try.)
Eventually, Rovia calmed down. In a physical sense, the distance remained - but the more archangelic portions of her had drifted closer as the conversation continued.
"Do you feel better?" Morgante asked.
"yes." Rovia said, then hesitated. Eventually, she spoke again, "I don't know what to do now."
"You don't need to do anything." Morgante said, "But if you seek guidance, I will offer suggestions."
"please." Rovia said.
"You are of a dual nature, for now. Seek out the three mortal settlements, and the nine archangels within the Mer-Line stations, to better understand where you are and what you could become." Morgante said, "As a potential archangel, you will form a nature with time. Knowing this may allow you to direct your path before your fate is sealed. Perhaps you could even avoid becoming one of us, if you wished."
"what does it mean to be an archangel?" Rovia asked.
"It is to be - or become - an incarnation of a concept. Many of my kind, myself included, are territorial over our claims, but it is unlikely there truly is only one archangel of any individual concept. Still, it would be dangerous to claim a concept you know is taken." Morgante said, "Most are formed with no memory of existing before we were archangels. This is a unique opportunity, I have only ever known one other Archangel who was not yet an incarnation."
"how did they decide?" Rovia asked.
"They did not get the chance. Their father killed them before they could." Morgante said, "But he is no more, and nothing here that could cause equal harm would wish to."
"what dangers should i watch out for?" Rovia asked.
"If you cannot learn to restrain your nature, you will find the Mer-Line's trains will hit you in passing occasionally. It is unlikely to kill you, but it will be quite unpleasant. If possible, try to avoid that." Morgante said, "The archangels might be unpleasant as well. If any attempt to seriously harm you, you may tell me. I will ensure they cannot do so again, if the Mer-Line doesn't dispose of them first. The island also has other dangers, but none of them should be a threat to you."
"why are you helping me?" Rovia asked.
"Because I wished to." Morgante said. (It was true, though it was deliberately incomplete.)
"would you like it if i visited again?" Rovia asked.
"I would." Morgante said, "If I am not here, I will leave something to let you know where you might find me. But you have no obligation to return."
They spent a while more together. Rovia was silent, and Morgante had no idea what to say. She hadn't interacted with an archangel this young since Mordread. Eventually, Rovia rose to her feet.
"i'll return." Rovia said.
Morgante watched as she left.
Then she considered her options. Suddenly, she was unwilling to just sit and watch - but she also was weaker than she'd ever been before. Despite everything, she needed another vessel if she wanted to move around the surface for long. But she couldn't use a person - nobody came down here since the fourteenth ranger captain had left. Besides, the only idiot naive enough to make a knowing bargain - had gotten himself smote already.
She sighed. None of her options were pleasant. No matter who she went to, she'd have to beg. She'd missed her chance to talk to Amber, and Amber was probably intentionally avoiding her.
Since that was the case, she might as well go visit an old friend. She was more likely to cooperate than the Equilibriums or Hexahedron - if it had even stabilized enough to talk yet. But she really, really didn't want to.