Twilight of the Gods

“She gave me the blood,” Uriel said, placing the pouches on the table.

“I never said she wouldn’t,” Ezra replied. They had returned to the attic lab, hovering over the sleeping angel as they spoke.

Uriel doesn’t respond, taking a sip of the memory tea to avoid conversation. The past was coming back to him in pieces, often hitting him when he least expected it. Just the other day, he was trapped in a memory of serving Anhel. It was a gruesome scene where he served as a punisher, violently executing his fellow angels. He could feel his hands still slick with blood when he returned to reality.

But there were other memories that were much sweeter. He had been in love, much to his surprise. Somehow, in the drudgery of his servitude, he had found comfort in the arms of another.

He didn’t think that there was love in him beyond the devotion he felt to his God. Yet in those memories that were far too short, it was undeniable. There was a strong sense of affection for his brethren, an emotion that betrayed him during the killings. He hesitated multiple times when drawing his blade, especially when Anhel began forcing him to kill those closest to him. But such things were necessary to prove he deserved to be the Favorite. He needed to shed blood to prove that he was worthy of being bonded to it.

He paid a heavy price to be close to his God. As he gazed upon the angel beneath him, he wondered if the bond was worth the gory burden he carried. He had to kill so many brethren, angels just like him. It was as if he had slain himself countless times, whittling away at flesh and bone until his individuality vanished. He was his God’s will, nothing more and nothing less.

But even as he told himself that, he knew it wasn’t true anymore. There were three bags of blood on the table, one less than Ezra wanted. He licked his lips, tasting the remains of the fourth bag at the corners of his mouth. The ichor was still heavenly on his tongue, but his bond to Daeva was growing fainter by the day. He could no longer read her intentions with the same intensity as before.

The expanding distance between them hollowed him out. The more she pulled away, the more he ached for her. There were moments when this was exquisitely unbearable. Why didn’t she touch him? Why didn’t she love him, use him? He was almost tempted to beg her to hit him so that he would feel some semblance of her warmth.

“Pay attention,” Ezra said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He prepares for the blood transfusion, hooking the blood bag to the sleeping angel’s arm through a series of tubes. “If things go wrong, I need you to be ready to assist me.”

Uriel nodded, pretending that he heard everything Ezra said. The angel was going to be fine as far as he was concerned. He recalled the day of his own resurrection when his body and mind were restored. The day of his rebirth had been the best of his second life. He had a God and a purpose. It was a joyous occasion.

As he gazed upon the creature’s sleeping face, it started to become more familiar to him. Her coppery lashes and fine freckles initially reminded him of Daeva, but the angel’s pallor was too pale to meaningfully resemble his God. Gold flecks highlighted her cheek, glittering faintly in the lab’s dim lighting. As Ezra pumped Daeva’s dark ichor into her body, the angel’s name finally came to Uriel.

Calypso, whispered the darkest depths of his mind. You knew her. You loved her. She was your true equal.

She glowed beneath them, the life returning to her flesh. Slowly, she began to stir from her slumber, fingers twitching like a newborn. Much to his horror, a familiar feeling fluttered in his chest.

He steps away, unable to look at the angel anymore. More memories were returning to his mind, overwhelming his consciousness in a mental blizzard. Calypso, whispered that nagging voice again. Calypso, Calypso, Calypso.

She sits up, her arm shooting out and grabbing his wrist. Her eyes snap open, revealing golden eyes that mirrored his. For a moment they stay like that, staring at each other in wonder. A soft halo forms over her head. She smiles hesitantly, recognition flickering in her eyes.

“Uriel,” she said, relieved. “You’re alive. It’s like the war didn’t touch you at all.”

I could say the same of you, whispered the annoying voice. You’re as beautiful as ever, my Calypso.

It was then that Uriel realized that the hushed, nagging voice stuck inside his head was his own. The burgeoning free will that had taken seed inside of him was growing. With his own choices came his own annoying little thoughts, musings he never needed to deal with before.

Ezra clears his throat, catching Calypso’s attention. Her face brightens as she sees him.

“You’re alive too! This is better than I imagined. We must have won the war if both of you are well, yes? We need to celebrate,” she said, climbing off the table to embrace them.

The men stand stiffly, wading in the awkward silence. Calypso pulls away, staring at the pair. “You’re not happy,” she stated. “Would you rather I had stayed asleep?”

“It’s not that,” Uriel began. He was struggling to put the mass fiery genocide of their brethren into words. He didn’t want her to know what he knew, to feel the centuries-long despair that he did.

“We lost the war,” Ezra said bluntly. He unhooks the empty blood bag from her arm, pulling the tubes out.

“Impossible,” she seethed. “The Elysian forces were no match for our might. Their worshippers fell like flies at our blades. We were downright indestructible.”

We were, Uriel thought. His eyes slid over to Ezra, who was staring impassively at Calypso. He had an astonishing amount of composure for someone who turned the tide of the war for the worse. It was his wish that put them in this position in the first place. Perhaps Ezra was incapable of guilt. No matter how he sinned, not an inch of remorse graced his features.

“Most of us are dead,” Ezra said. “A few remain comatose as you did, but most of them are horribly disfigured. The fire made ashes out of the rest of us.”

“But we can’t burn,” Calypso retorted. “We used to bathe in fire. Something else had to kill us.”

If looks could murder, Uriel’s eyes would’ve smitten Ezra on the spot. A part of him wanted to beat the crap out of him, to smear his cold blue eyes with blood. But another part of him wondered exactly how he was going to explain everything to Calypso.

“It was a special kind of fire,” Ezra said. “An unexpected weapon in the Elysian arsenal. We never saw it coming.”

He wasn’t lying, but Uriel had to restrain himself from laughing at the key omissions of the truth. Sure it was a “special” fire brought about by the Elysians, one that burned every single one of them at the same time. Ezra himself didn’t see the consequences coming. But the whole thing remained his fault, regardless of his intentions.

Good thing he was repenting for his sins, right?

“I don’t believe you,” Calypso said. “The Gods made us perfectly. No fire would hurt us.” She looked at Uriel desperately as if to hope that he would reassure her that this was all a ruse. He only gave her a pitying look.

“You don’t need to listen to me,” Ezra said. He draws back the curtain, revealing the three disfigured angels floating in the fluid. “You can just see the consequences for yourself.”

The angels, winged and fallen, were all soldiers used to the horrors of war. With the bloody rituals that the Gods commanded their Favorites to enact, they were also accustomed to the occasional gore and violence. It was the inevitable reality of being a celestial servant. But ever since the Gods lost the war, their hold on the angels has weakened. Without the daily renewals of the Blood Bond and rigid discipline enforced by brutal trials, the angels were weakened.

So when Calypso saw the way her fellow brethren were mangled, she didn’t flinch. A part of her may have wanted to, still emotionally raw from her rebirth. But she did grimace as if she could barely stomach the sight of them. As she examined their wounds from the other side of the glass, she couldn’t deny that all of the angels were injured by fire.

“Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera,” she said, speaking the three angels’ names with reverence. “Of course, they made it out of the war. They were some of Anhel’s finest.”

Uriel vaguely recognized the names. It brought back horrifying images of the war. The three angels were so efficient at killing that they were machine-like. All of the other angels respected them for being true weapons of the Gods, for being less their individual selves and more like pure celestial willpower. Tisiphone, in particular, was especially relentless, rivaling the way hunting dogs pursued their prey.

“I’m going to bring them back,” Ezra said. “But they need to be revived together. The power of the three won’t be intact if I wake them one by one.”

“You should heal them first. They don’t deserve to feel that kind of pain when they re-enter the world.” Calypso’s eyes linger on Alecto’s lone wing, unable to stop staring at the burn scars.

“I’ve tried,” Ezra said. “But their sleep is so deep that their bodies refuse to grow. And without growth, there is no healing.”

“Then you need to wake them. Now,” Calypso commanded.

Ezra threw up his arms helplessly. “You don’t know how much I wish I could. Unfortunately, Uriel didn’t bring back enough blood. We only have enough for reviving two angels.”

Guilt churned with ichor in his stomach. “I can get more if you like.”

“You will get more. You can get as much as you want with Daeva in your lap. That God would do anything you please,” Ezra purred.

Uriel blushed at the image his words conjured. If only what Ezra said was true, then he wouldn’t be facing the agony of separation.

“Who’s Daeva? I don’t remember her being part of the Celestial Ten,” Calypso interjected.

“She is Anhel’s new host. At some point in her previous life, she was his Chosen One, a fine mortal conduit of his powers. She’s a pretty little thing,” he sneered.

“How pretty can she be? Mortals are always so dull compared to celestials, at least from what I remembered. Unless that has changed since my slumber,” she said.

“She’s far from dull,” Uriel said, immediately defending Daeva. “And she’s not mortal. At least not anymore.”

“You like her,” Calypso observed.

“He loves her,” Ezra corrected. “And we’re lucky she loves him back, maybe even more than he loves her.”

Uriel doesn’t respond, averting his eyes. He downs the remaining tea, swallowing the Mnemosyne’s root. Calypso notices this, opening her mouth to make a comment. But Ezra’s cold, calculating gaze stops her from speaking, forcing her to bottle up her thoughts.

Instead, she says “I’d like to meet her.”

The request was innocent enough. At least that’s what Uriel told himself. But for some reason, the idea of the two women meeting didn’t sit right with him.

“You’re not ready,” Ezra said. “It’s best that you stay here, take a while to adjust to your second life before you meet other people. Remember, the Gods no longer rule. As far as the world is concerned, Uriel is the only angel left.”

“I feel great,” Calypso replied. “I don’t need time to adjust. If anyone objects to my presence, I’ll kill them. Problem solved.”

Uriel and Ezra exchanged uneasy glances. “I think what Ezra is trying to say is that the world isn’t ready for you. We need to give Daeva time to adjust to the idea that there are other angels. We don’t want her to seize up in shock when she does eventually meet you, do we?”

Calypso pressed her lips together, considering his words carefully. “But you will tell her about me.”

“As soon as I see her again, I will let her know that the blood transfusion was a success and that the angels have returned to Otherworld,” he reassured her. “She would be more than happy to meet you then.”

She nodded, but her face showed that she wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answer.

“I can’t stay confined to this room. I need to fly and breathe fresh air,” she said, stretching her wings.

“And you can,” Ezra said. “Only at night. We don’t want to alert the Elysians that there are more angels alive. They could kill you with that fire.”

“I’ll be discreet,” she promised. “I was quite adept at espionage if you can still remember that far back.”

Another memory thuds behind Uriel’s eyes, one where he and Calypso flew carelessly through sunny skies. So compelling was the memory that he was tempted to grab her hand then and take off, leaving Ezra behind. He shakes away that fluttering feeling in his chest, confused by his emotions. These were things he usually felt for Daeva and Daeva alone.

“You were great at flying,” he said. “You could do all sorts of tricks in the air, stuff I could never manage.”

“You remember,” she said, laughing in surprise. “Then you must also remember that we were great friends.”

“I have … fond memories,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a shame that we were both asleep for so long.” His eyes flickered to Ezra.

“You guys can fly together later. There are more important things at hand,” Ezra said, gesturing to the floating angels.

“I’ll get more blood,” he said, grabbing some empty pouches.

“Five bags,” Ezra said, holding up his hand. “I don’t want to see another one missing.”

Uriel leaves the attic, unable to meet Ezra’s eyes. He suspected that the Elysian knew he consumed the fourth bag, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew that ichor was an irresistible temptation for him yet he was still sending him out for more blood.

Does he trust me? No, that wasn’t it. Uriel was his best option. He wasn’t sure how Ezra got Daeva’s blood before, but clearly, the supply had run out.

As he entered the Gods’ living quarters, he was greeted by the sight of Daeva, who was reclined on the floor cushions before the hearth. He slowly walks over to her, his heart beating rapidly. Her red eyes flicker toward him in acknowledgment, all fire and warmth.

“Uriel,” she said, sitting up to greet him.

He bends down toward her, claiming her lips in a sensual kiss. She makes a noise of surprise as he tangles his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss. After a while, she pulls away.

“You’re good at that,” she managed to sputter. “I guess you must have really missed me.”

More than you know, he thought. He gathers her up in his arms, pressing himself into her. Wrapped up in her smell and heat, he was certain that his feelings and loyalties lay with her. A few old memories and a new angelic friend weren’t going to change that.

He smooths the hair away from her face, delighting in the redness of her cheeks. “I think you missed me too.”

Her eyes sparkle. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

“Then let me distract you again,” he said.

“But–”

“I’m your angel and you are my God. It is my duty to serve you in whatever manner you like.” He kneels before her, head bowed.

She lifts his chin with her fingers, a dark presence lurking behind her eyes. Uriel didn’t care if Anhel was watching. The only thing that mattered was her.

“Then serve me,” she said.