Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

Exousia stood shakily to her feet, her ears ringing enough that the pained groans and whimpers of demons were muffled. The old house had caught fire—casting light around the house which slowly burned in greater intensity. She looked around and watched demons crawl out of the house in every direction. Every one had been crippled by shrapnel and burned badly. Many of them were already changing into forms with wings, no longer concerned with the charade as they retreated into the night.

The madness in Ammon walked through the flames in the form of the white wolf, patches of white fur alight like embers. It starred, its black eyes devoid of any semblance of intelligence or sanity. They reflected the flames and a fear that had intensified now that it stood alone. For a moment, it couldn’t take another step forward. But then it clenched its teeth and began to change its physical form. It became that large and impressive demon, with blackened plate armor, a trimmed beard, a short sword, and melted skin. It screamed like a man, unsheathed its sword, and charged.

Exousia reached into her jacket pocket, her dagger, and held it in a backward grip. She felt rage fill her as she said, “I’m going to kill you once and for all!” The words, even more than those that summoned the tendrils, filled her heart with predatory power. Then, she opened her mouth, breathed out a thick cloud of black smoke, dimmed her form, and charged at her prey.

The Madness put up a futile attack against the cloud of smoke, swinging Ammon’s soul blindly as it coughed black blood.

Exousia weaved into the cloud and stabbed her dagger into the plate-armor on the demon’s shin—creating a terrible screeching sound and a wound under the split metal. Then she jumped backward as a sword cleaved the earth where she’d stood. Suddenly, she felt a metal-covered arm ram into her stomach, lift her off her feet, and begin carrying her forward.

The Madness had charged and didn’t stop until they were out of the smoke and near the dead gardens at the front of the burning house. And still, it kept going.

Exousia gasped for a breath and then sent a sharp elbow into the demon’s skull, sending them both crashing to the ground.

The two then charged at one another and exchanged blows, doing little to damage one another. The Madness was clumsy, and Exousia did not have the strength to afflict injury through the heavy armor. Eventually, it managed to grab and throw her hard enough that she bounced along the ground like a rock on water.

Exousia gasped for breath again and then scrambled to her feet. She ignored the pain running through her body, especially the line of bruises from where she’d landed on the staff that had been strapped to her back. Letting out an unearthly shriek, she sent out shadows that rose from the earth and began to slash savagely at the armored demon, sending a shower of spark and blood into the air.

But the Madness let out a scream of its own, charged, and forced its way through the attacking tendrils while still standing. They weren’t strong enough to hold Ammon’s form!

Exousia snarled; she made her hands into fists and sent a wall of flames as her opponent.

But the Madness had gained momentum and threw itself through the flames that burned its flesh and hair. It raised its sword, now only a few feet away.

Without pausing for a moment, Exousia bit into the fleshy part of her palm, under her thumb. She bit until she tasted blood gush into her mouth. She remembered the first spell she’d ever used–turning her blood into a corrosive acid. And as soon as she’d dodged a downward chop from Ammon’s sword, she slapped his plate-metal breastplate. The effect was immediate; the black armor began to bubble, hiss, and disintegrate.

The Madness shrieked in pain and then pulled at the weakened metal with savage strength until it gave away.

But Exousia had seen her opportunity and charged in. She stabbed the demon’s stomach several times and then evaded a right knee aimed at her groin by sinking the blade into Ammon’s knee-cap.

The Madness roared and pulled its knee and the embedded knife backward, and then threw a punch.

Still reeling from the rapid-use of three spells in a row, Exousia’s mental faculties were not in check. She found that she was holding onto the knife. A metal fist struck her sternum and sent her flying back. Exousia landed on one of the dead gardens and her hip struck one of the wooden garden borders. There was no snap, but a sharp and deep pain spasmed from the bone and muscle. She writhed and breathed forcefully, trying to get herself under control.

The heel of Ammon’s metal boot came down, aimed at her skull.

Exousia rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding a blow that sent dirt up around the ground it struck. She needed another weapon! So, she stood and hobbled to where the ground was littered with demon bodies and a human one.

The Madness hobbled behind him with growls and pants. The knife embedded in its knee was slowing it considerably.

Exousia reached Brennan’s body with a fire-poker fallen nearby. She grabbed it and turned to face her opponent.

The Madness paused, seeing the weapon, and began to slowly circle. It eyed the piece of metal as if it were trying to remember something. Of course … all of the spirits that formed the madness were humans with whom Ammon had swapped a piece of his soul for their own. Which meant that some semblance of their old consciousness still rested inside, including the man that had been pinned to the wall with a piece of iron rebar. And what was a fire-poker but thick rebar with a hook? This traumatic trigger had awakened and given control to a single soul trapped inside.

Exousia smiled and exhaled small streams of black smoke through her nostrils. She slowly approached the collection of fragmented humans before her, looking them all in the eye. She used her demon psychic abilities to make herself seem taller, darker, and thinner; until she was the illusion of a towering shadow, carrying a long spike. A spike that could have been any of the number of weapons she’d used to kill these souls over the years … a staff … a sword … an ax.

The Madness took several steps backward, the one soul wrestling complete control of the demon’s body through its terror. “N-n-n-no! I didn’t mean to hurt them, but the bad thoughts were in my head. I c-c-couldn’t get them out.” As it stammered, its eyes widened until its body froze in place.

Exousia took two quick and painful steps and then thrust the fire-poker into the demon’s armored chest. There was a wet plunging sound, followed by cracking of bone. So, she pulled the poker back out and stabbed again. She repeated the attack again and again until all that was left was a grotesquely bloodied mess.

The Madness screamed in horror and pain, its eyes emitting familiar emotions as the spirits within relived their deaths.

Exousia felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile as she watched the torment that the human spirits endured. Then she threw the fire-poker aside, grabbed the protruding handle of her black knife, and pulled it forcefully from Ammon’s knee. She then held it close to hier opponent’s heart … triggering a memory that countless of those disgusting creatures would share.

The Madness’s trauma culminated into a momentary seizure. The combined minds of countless she had cut open at the chest. They saw the black knife that had killed them and began to beg for mercy. With so many voices, this came out as babble from Ammon’s lips. But through his eyes, Exousia could hear all of them.

Exousia pressed her dagger to Ammon’s heart. Would she really do it? So many times she’d been told that none of this was Ammon’s fault … or that demons were above taking the life of their kind. But Ammon had brought up a truth that Exousia had refused to acknowledge before now. It was the truth that had led to her defeat and that which had haunted her all her life.

Exousia was not a demon.

Were she a demon, she would have never lost the Challenge! She would have never let her need to connect with others to stop her from what she needed to do. Maybe other demons would have still failed at the task that had been set against her, but not Exousia! She would have risen above all that. But she was nothing but an abomination trapped between three plains of existence. Demon, human, god. This truth made Exousia feel so alone, so lost, and like such a fool for not having known her own vulnerabilities sooner. But it also reminded her that she was free from the laws of demons.

Ammon had beaten her in a petty challenge by completely deconstructing her identity and sense of self. He had played upon what little loyalty and sense of belonging that Exousia secretly wished to feel. He had stripped the only sort of illusion that she ever had of being anything other than alone in her existence. And he had made sure that she would be alone through it all, forcing Dufaii’s hand until he had to leave. Ammon had orchestrated her torment; now, he would harvest the fruit of all his planning. But first …

Exousia whispered, “You’re not the one I want, you miserable creatures. I want to kill him. Leave!”

The Madness stared at her in confusion, for a moment. Then its eyes began to settle into a state of tired confusion, which shifted to intellect and morbid understanding. Slowly, it vanished and brought back Ammon.

Exousia plunged the knife into his chest—millimeters from his black heart. Smoke no longer billowed from her lungs because she used no magic. She wanted to feel this for herself. She needed to do it alone, with the aid of nothing else.

Ammon screamed briefly, breathed deeply, and then lifted his head.

Exousia said, “Move, and I will sever your connection to this form and send your twisted soul back to the Creator,” She twisted the knife to emphasize her point. This elicited another scream, and then there was silence. She was barely aware as hundreds of shadows began to appear around them.

-O-

Dufaii sprinted through the woods, alert to any possible presence that could have been shifting around him. But all the noise, movement, light, and energy that he sensed was coming from the direction of the house. As he drew closer, he could see others of his kind in the sky above the burning structure. They were dropping from the clouds above, with an energy of interest and curiosity. The final showdown had begun.

Dufaii made his way from the woods where he’d been attacked to the open field. But he was delayed once again when a blue-robed figure dropped to the ground in front of him. It was the Archangel that had attacked him. They lifted a saber and pointed it threateningly in his direction. They meant to stall him!

Dufaii decided that his best option was to throw them off-guard. He lifted his wounded arm and placed his palm on the tip of the blade. Pressing his hand into the point, he felt it go quickly through his flesh, creating a brief window of opportunity before the figure would slice its blade free. He took it, closed the distance between them, and pulled off the figure’s hood while they split his hand in half. He groaned in pain and retreated several steps, the fabric still in hand.

Immediately, he recognized Raphael’s long black hair, her dark olive skin, and her eyes that emanated that calm and reserved energy typically associated with wisdom. For her to be the one fighting him was even more surprising than had it been either of the other two archangels.

Dufaii dropped the hood and unsheathed his sword. “Raphael.”

“Godkiller,” Raphael replied, looking him up and down. She was studying him, looking for weakness. And judging by the way she quickly found reassurance in something she saw, told him that she had found what she was looking for. “You are in a hurry to get to the human.”

“And you have no business getting in my way!” Dufaii said, his voice a low growl. He tried to walk around her.

But the Archangel mimicked his movements and blocked his path.

So Dufaii decided to be more direct, “You’re stopping the wrong demon. If Ammon succeeds at what he’s doing, there will be war more terrible than you can imagine. Heaven and Hell will both pay a terrible price, and all of Earth will be a battle-ground. We demons may not match you in numbers, but we will fight with everything we have if you make us!”

“Does your kind truly truly think so little of Heaven’s intelligence?” Raphael asked, as if a point of genuine interest. “I know where you stand, and what you hope to achieve. And I know that you will do anything to save that human with whom you split a fragment of your soul. You’ve compromised yourself, which currently puts you at my mercy. I know what I must do, and I do it with purpose. Can you say the same?”

Dufaii took a threatening step at her and shouted, “My motives are my own concern. I’ve come to terms with what I am! So then why are you siding with Ammon? If he wins, he will win a fight against the Creator. And maddened though he may be, he’s no fool. He’ll find a way to kill them!”

But the Archangel ignored this and calmly replied, “You will understand only when it is far too late to matter. As for your surrogate child, she’s already lost her challenge against Ammon. So, there’s … really no reason to hurry.”

Dufaii felt winded by this news. They’d already lost? If this was true, then war was coming and everything he’d done was for nothing. He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to hold to enough anger to push forward. “If I’ve already lost, what reason could you have for keeping me away? It shouldn’t matter if I get to her!”

Raphael seemed to think about this for a moment, and waited before she replied, “You’ll think me cruel … but I can at least tell you that hurting you is not my goal. Both Ammon and Exousia are potential generals in the coming war against my kind. At the moment, they are pointlessly trying to kill one another while some of the most influential demons of your realm watch.” There was no arrogance in the way she said it. If anything, she seemed empathetic. But this somehow made her demeanor seem even more cruel.

“You think you can let them fight and then take out the survivor with your little squad of assassins,” Dufaii muttered, trying to piece it all together while realizing that he was being stalled. “It’s too late for that. Even if I hadn’t wiped your little kill-squad out, those demons watching are the most powerful. The only ones with enough influence to be granted leave from Hell. Your soldiers would have been outnumbered and outmatched.”

“Oh, I agree,” Raphael said, calmly. “But do you think Michael will be able to resist the opportunity to all but win the war with one battle? I have already sent a messenger with the news. He and his ilk have become increasingly nervous with the announcement of this Challenge. Now that it’s been lost … they will do everything in their power to protect the Creator from their poor judgment. We won’t just be rid of two generals, but–as you said–all of those demons who are most prepared for war. We will make war impossible for your kind—saving Heaven and Earth.”

Dufaii shook his head several times. “No … we’ve already lived under the power of your god twice. I fought only so that our kind would wait to fight for freedom until we were unified and had a solid plan of escape. But if war is the only option, then I know where my loyalties lie!”

Raphael readied her saber, taking an open stance that was ready for any sort of lunge, stab, or swing.

But Dufaii had no intention of winning a fair fight. He made a quick movement with his left foot and kicked a patch of dry and loose soil at her face. It did not reach her eyes, as he had hoped, but it made her flinch. He dashed to her left side, close enough that her sword was useless.

Raphael dropped her saber and lunged with a dagger she pulled from the folds of her robes.

Dufaii had to drop his own sword to catch her arm before the weapon plunged into his neck. He curled his fingers around her narrow arm with bone-crushing force, and then smashed the handle of the dagger into her jaw so that she dropped her blade. He then twisted her arm violently.

Raphael knelt, forced to do so that her arm was not twisted off.

Dufaii released her arm and kicked her in the center of her chest with his heel. The blow sent her sliding backward several feet, along the loose soil. He turned, kicked her weapons into the woods, took his own, and began to run towards the house.

“Throwing away what little chance your kind has left,” Raphael said and coughed a few times. “I guess what they’ve said about you is right.”

Dufaii paused, casted a spiteful glance in her direction and said, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t blame you,” Raphael sputtered, as a trickle of gold blood escaped her mouth. “Even the most intellectual of us fall to our emotions. Maybe that’s what makes you and I so much less trustworthy than the simpletons, the manipulators, and the sanguine warriors so constantly full of emotion. We keep our emotions welled inside and under control … until we lose control completely. Then comes the intellect to justify our actions.”

Dufaii scoffed and began to walk away.

“I’m practically gifting you the insight you’ll need if you want your kind to survive!” Raphael said, her tone grave.

Dufaii knew it was a trap, that she was just stalling so that a loyalist army could come in and instantly win the war. But he also knew that the Archangel was wise enough to gamble some truth in exchange for her chance at victory. The smallest trace of a lie–or information that wasn’ vital–and she knew he would leave. So, he forced himself to stop in his tracks.

Raphael continued, her pace of speaking neither rushed or slowed. Yes, this indeed was a trade … a gamble on her part. “Long ago, you would have once seen the gravity of this situation and taken the chance to make sure that your top soldiers were saved. The fate of your kind, those who needed you most, came before all else. But now … you have the look of a father, not a soldier. You understand putting the one you care most about even before your own people.”

Dufaii felt his jaw shaking with the intensity of his fury. “You didn’t betray us in the rebellion because you cared about the Creator! Maybe Michael did. But you, you are nothing but a coward who didn’t want to lose your place as head-slave in the palace.”

Raphael nearly hissed as she replied, “Don’t pretend you know me! I know exactly what it’s like to try to protect someone who has already fully committed themselves to their own destruction for a hopeless cause. I know … I know the feeling so god damned well.”

Dufaii looked back at her and saw tears falling from her face. They were tears of passion, of someone who had just revealed their innermost secret. But his mind refused to process everything he had just heard. There was no more time! He stook flight toward the burning house. He heard metal striking metal. And, true to what he’d been told, hundreds of demons were watching the scene from above. It was all an enormous trap.

-O-

Exousia could feel waves of heat emitted by the burning house, as she stared down her opponent. She had used leverage on the knife to force the demon onto a knee. Now, they were at eye-level, and her weapon was a single movement away from cutting into the essence of her enemy’s soul. She sensed demon spectators watching the showdown unfold, but she didn’t care.

If you kill me, my followers will begin their war for freedom,” Ammon said, between pained gasps for air. “Our best hope is that I destroy the Creator when I am given the chance to fight them. I will then surrender all authority to Hades, Hell will be united, and our people will finally be free.”

“The Creator won’t let you kill them,” Exousia hissed through a clenched jaw. “You’ll lose, just like in the rebellion. Your followers will lose faith, Hell will remain divided, and demonkind will remain trapped forever! Your madness will lead our kind to their destruction just like madness always has.”

“You … really want to kill me,” Ammon said and touched his fingers to his bloodied chest. He seemed sad, but he nodded with what seemed to be understanding. “I supposed that I can’t blame you. Since you were born, I have threatened your life with both my own madness and with my own hybrid followers. I’ve made you kill … so many people … even ones you loved. And this Challenge … it was cruelty itself. So I do understand.”

“I never wanted to kill you!” Exousia shouted, fighting the urge to twist the blade again. Instead, her eyes welled with tears. “You taught me. You were my teacher. You … cared. But you gave into your own version of the Madness … just like the Creator. And you used it to your advantage! You let it attack me. And I’m not going to make the same mistake the Archangels did in letting a maddened king live.”

Ammon’s own eyes also began to well and his body began to shake. “You can’t imagine how much I wish that this disease had never become a part of me. I wish I’d never had to hurt you. Breaking the daughter of the person I love most in this world is the greatest shame of my life. But … I know you … and I know what will happen if I die.”

“No, you don’t!” Exousia shouted. “You’ve lost your mind! I don’t have a choice but to kill you.”

Ammon’s eyes brightened with a look of understanding, an expression which he barely managed over his winces of pain. “I believe that you think that. You believe that you have no choice in this matter but to end me before I can do any more damage. But if you were to search that place of cool and calculating logic that Dufaii, Kueng, and even I helped to instill within you, you would know that this idea is simplistic and an affront to your own name. You always have the power to choose … and you know that. Just like you know that madness or not, I am still the greatest hope our kind has. Because you saw for yourself. Even given every disadvantage and my state of my mind, I won the Challenge. And I won it against one of the most capable demons I know.”

Exousia closed her eyes forcefully, her body beginning to sway.

“If there is any chance of victory, for our people to escape their destruction, it is in me,” Ammon continued. “I … actually do not wish to stop you from killing me. Being like this … my mind eternally being eroded by a thing placed inside me against my will … it is torment like I cannot describe. But I must go on a little longer for our people. And … the truth is … I already know that you won’t kill me. I’ve already calculated the outcome of this encounter. I would have never allowed things to go so far, were it not for that.”

“You don’t know that I won’t,” Exousia whispered.

Ammon paused a moment, and his eyes glistened. “You embody every demon virtue and idea with a level of zealotry that most of our kind could not imitate. You bow to no force of tyranny, and you fight though it means your certain damnation. Above all, you do whatever is necessary to protect your people. It was what I was trying to say before, when the madness took over. You didn’t fail the Challenge because you failed as a demon, you didn’t fail at all. You lost because you are not some unthinking, unfeeling weapon. That was what I wanted you to see from your visions. Exousia … you are strong, you care, you strive. You lost because you succeeded in being among the best of humanity and demons, in that you protected the people that are just as much as part of you as we demons are.”

Exousia shook her head but her arms suddenly felt weak.

“The madness inside me is a factor to consider,” Ammon said. “Just like it was a factor that had to be considered when we used the Lightbringer to fight against the Creator. But I managed to defeat you, even with this disability. Using what I have to fight the impossible is what I have done all of my long existence. And it is what I will continue to do until our people are free.”

Exousia opened her mouth to counter but realized that she couldn’t think of anything. She ground her teeth together and began to feel sweat form on her forehead. More than before, she really sensed the demons around her, watching.

Ammon looked her in the eyes, without doubt, and said, “Now, I’ll explain what happens next. In a moment, I will stand and remove your blade from my chest. And though you could cut out my heart, you will not because you are not going to damn our people to failure in the coming war. Then, upon removing the blade, we will fight again without my madness interfering. You’ll fight as hard as you can to destroy me, for neither deception or surrender are within you. Then, of my own strength, I will strike you down. By this, we will unify our most powerful soldiers through proof of my command, and our people have a chance at freedom.”

Exousia began to breathe even more quickly and, for the first time that she could remember, she felt afraid. It wasn’t just the acknowledgment of imminent danger. For the first time, she feared the fact that she would die. Exousia felt none of his previous strength from loathing or anger. No … she felt quite small.

Ammon pressed his upper body forward so that their heads were aligned. When he did, he pulled a dagger quite obviously and put it to the back of her neck. But this wasn’t a threat … or a strategy. He was occluding the fact that he was … embracing her. He then whispered, at a decibel that nobody else could hear. “I’m so proud of you.”

Exousia was confused, at first. After a moment, she let out several sobs as she kept a tight hold of the dagger in her grasp. For the moment, she just didn’t want to feel alone. Then, with tears staining her face, Exousia drew upon her last reserves of strength to drown out the fear.

Ammon nodded in respect and then rose.

This was Exousia’s last chance to cut out his heart … but she held to the blade tightly as it slid free from the bone and flesh in which it had been embedded. Then, she clutched the knife in a reverse grip and bared her teeth for one last fight.

-O-

Wings spread, Dufaii flew over the dark skies and the ghastly spectators whose faces were illuminated by dying orange embers. There should have been humans investigating the fire; it would have been visible from the road. But in times where demons collected in mass numbers, humans knew on some primal level not to come near. This allowed for the showdown between an unarmed but massive demon against a minimally armed mortal being. The smaller figure barely managed to keep up, as she used her knife to bock the strikes that she could not avoid. She was clearly exhausted, injured, slow–fighting on the last fumes of strength left in her body.

For a moment, Dufaii felt that there might be time to end the showdown by jumping into the middle of the fray and telling them all to scatter. Then he could grab his apprentice and fly away from this place. But then he looked up at a towering cumulonimbus cloud—a perfect cover to wait and ambush the collection of demons. There only needed to be one in there … the rest would enter in en masse via portal when the time was right. Without a doubt, the guard would drop down just as soon as one of their two most powerful opponents were destroyed … or if Dufaii ended the battle.

The only solution was stealth—for Dufaii to take advantage of his invisibility and the battle to tell the demon soldiers to subtly make their escape. But if he did that, there would not be enough time to save Exousia. Then again maybe she was strong enough to hold out for that long …

Dufaii looked down.

Ammon’s fist glanced off Exousia’s face, creating a visible tear that cut a horizontal gash from her cheek to her ear. Even in the few seconds that had passed, she had already taken several blows and was slowing down considerably. There was no way that she would survive for the time it would take to evacuate all the demon spectators.

Dufaii felt lost in indecision. He knew, at that moment, that all who had asserted that his priorities had become compromised were … right. Dufaii cared about his daughter more than every demon in Hell. Yet, there was only one decision in which he would not let down Exousia and everything she had sacrificed so much for.

Dufaii bared his teeth with wrath towards the sky. Then, he made himself dim and flew toward the demon captains.

-O-

Exousia barely managed to duck under a left hook. It passed overhead with enough force that she heard it, even without her abilities. She then tried to use her knife to cut at an exposed rib, but her depth perception was thrown by the blood that covered her right eye, so her attack missed. Too tired and in too much pain to attack, she put all her energy into twisting, ducking, and evading strike after strike, usually with only enough success that she was injured instead of instantly killed. Then she heard a metallic dragging sound nearby.

Megan was … standing there … with a wild expression on her face. She had picked up the fire poker and was lunging into the battle.

“Don’t!” Exousia shouted.

Ammon turned, saw her, lifted his weapon.

Exousia screamed, lunged, and stabbed her knife down on the arm that her opponent lifted to shield himself. She held onto the dagger with one hand and the demon’s forearm with the other. From there, Exousia was shaken like a rag-doll—up, down, left, down. Her body struck another, sending the other body crashing into the dust.

Finally, Exousia herself was thrown with supernatural might. She flew until her back struck some immovable object. Only as she fell did she recognize that it was a pine tree. Both branches and bones broke from the impact and the fall back to the ground. Oddly, Exousia didn’t really feel any specific pain once she landed, but she could barely breathe. She tried to get up, but her body barely responded to her insistence. For a few moments, the world seemed to fade in and out, along with consciousness. Then, she could finally see something.

Ammon was standing over her, but he did not look well. He looked tired, like he was fighting something inside of him that was more ferocious than even the battle that had left him bleeding and broken. He whispered through ragged breaths: “The prison created for our kind was made for us and for those who rejected life itself through actions of absolute and self-aware evil. But I believe you can reach your kind if that is your desire. Fight … let the darkness of hatred fill you. And when you’re there, hold tight until I can find you. Your place in this is not finished. Together, we will end our people’s suffering.” Then, his eyes began to shift until he was gone and replaced by the madness within.

Once the Madness had taken control, it smiled with maniacal cruelty. But it wasn’t like it had been before. It didn’t look stupid, scared, or even divided. Instead, it seemed unified under a new consciousness, born from its victory. It whispered, “The demon is a fool. Through your death, I am finally free.” Then it brought the sword down.

Exousia’s eyes widened as her heart was impaled, and she bled silently until life passed from her.