Chapter Text
Mark 15:34
And at the ninth hour, Jesus shouted in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
(My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?)
The harsh wind surrounded the falling angel, giving her solace. But it had also given her desperation to fly, if it were not for the force of her plunge failing her wings each time, her eyes watered, her wings could only flap helplessly in the freeing wind.
The exiled could only sob as she fell, her hands grasping towards the heavens that betrayed her, as if hoping for grace, the second chance that she had been preached about. Emotions swirled all around her: betrayal, wrath, pride, fear, freedom.
She waited, despite the pressure of the air clogging her ability to hear; she had hoped that it was all a joke, that Heaven would reach down and bring her back up. But none came to rescue, not a soul dared look back. Then heaven began to seal itself in the clouds that hid its sanctuary to all unworthy.
It was halfway down that the exiled finally understood that Heaven had banished her, that no one was going to save her now, that her failures and pride had paid a terrible price for her. And so, her sobs were mixed with an expression of wrath, like that of the fallen exiles who came before her.
Then she burned. Fire engulfed her whole, lighting her wings on fire, scorching her alive. Only then did the disgraced angel scream; it was blood-curdling, like she felt the smite of Heaven strike true. She cried and shouted until her voice that sang life in heaven gave out, until she was nothing but a beautifully tragic ball of fire falling from the sky.
Sing, O heavenly muses, of the fallen star,
and the wingèd-craftsmen of Heaven afar,
who wrought beasts of claw and bone;
of the angel whose pride burned brighter upon the Throne.
Sing of how Heaven cast down its gentlest maker,
And turned back in the wake of her fall.
Thus begins the song of the exiled
And her mortal most beloved of all.
The soft wind surrounded the witch, giving her that nostalgic solace. But it also gave her the determination to see her mother again. She would enjoy it more if it were not for the setting sun getting into her face. Her eyes fluttered shut from the great star in front of her. Her cloak flapped slightly in the wind.
Coco then turned at the petrified ruins of her home. She stared at the familiar statue of her mother, frozen and lost in time. It had been years since the incident, yet when the witch stared at the statue, it felt like it was the first time all over again.
A wistful sigh escaped her lips, glancing down at the spell circle that wrapped around the perimeter of her home. Today had been another of her many failed attempts at rescuing her. Stars know if any of her attempts could work without resorting to forbidden magic.
Exhausted, the golden-green-haired witch turned to look at her hometown, despite the years away to learn under Master Qifrey in his Atelier, her town still felt the same. She could hear the kids giggling, chasing each other about, before the moon came and called for their suppers.
Coco looked up at the sky and closed her eyes with a steadying soft breath.
“Stars,” She whispered, letting her body relax, crossing her arms together. “Can you give a sign? Or someone for me?”
Silence, save for the birds and the bristling wind. Coco chuckled sadly, shaking her head. “Oh, who am I kidding?” She let her arms fall, taking in the landscape beyond her.
Then she heard it, a whistling noise like something was falling at a high rate, a bird? No, too small for that sound, not a dragon, they don’t make that sound randomly. The witch turned, looking for the source of the sound, when suddenly a loud crash erupted from her home.
She turned her heel straight to the source. Behind the house, she could see smoke that smelled like putrid sulfur. Yet, without hesitation and as her duty as a witch, she moved; her slyph shoes boosted her straight to the source.
Smoke watered her eyes, but she pushed through regardless, her pen at the ready. From beneath her cloak, she swiftly closed the spell, and in that instant, wind shot out, the strong but gentle winds came to sweep the smoke away in its path.
Once clear, Coco peered over to find a deep crater. There were some fires left in its path, but what caught the witch’s attention was a figure who lay in the centre of the crater. They were human, that was true, but they had… wings?
“A brimmed hat?” Coco whispered, looking around the area for any potential Knights Moralis on this person’s trail. Then she turned back to the crater, looking for any sign of a brimmed hat. After finding none, she decided to float down with her shoes. She moved carefully, for all she knew, it would be another trap.
When she got closer to the figure, she found that whatever they were, they were… beautiful — or handsome, she couldn’t really tell — too beautiful, it was like their face was not from this realm but from a higher dimension, from her raven locks of hair, to their face, even their clothes were too otherworldly to her.
‘Can’t be a brimmed hat,’ Coco thinks to herself, approaching the winged person. Not even a brimmed hat could survive a fall as severe as this, and their lack of a hat helped ease her mind.
Then Coco spotted something more strange about this person, their head had a weird, darkened aura around it, that reminded Coco of those ‘angels’ in the fairytale illustrations she once read, in each drawing, they had a disc, a golden halo that was always behind their heads. Except this one was almost blackened, and Coco had never seen something like that before.
Then, the figure opened their eyes, and all the Witch could do was watch as purple eyes bore into her own gold. Then she snapped out of it. “Are you alright?” She said, reaching forward to check on them.
The figure snarled and tried to swipe with its clawed hands. “Get thee hence!” They growled, voice hoarse and weak from the screaming.
They began moving back with the expression of a wounded animal, then their gaze snapped towards their forearms, pure black that slowly faded into their normal skin colour. Then they glared back at the Witch, who was slowly approaching them again. “Who art thou?!”
Coco has certainly never heard anyone speak like that, not even the wise would speak like that. “I am not going to hurt you,” She moves forward slowly, as if she were calming down a terrified animal. “Let me help you.”
The figure stared at the approaching woman, still moving back in the crater, then their vision became blurry, their ears rang, their mind entered and exited consciousness; they had never felt like this until now. Then the woman started moving faster towards them. Then they felt themself fall sideways, their vision and world going black entirely.
Coco quickly caught the figure, trying to keep them upright, when she felt their bare back. Curious, she turned the mysterious raven-haired, only to find the cloth on their back burnt away, revealing a back full of golden blistering burns, and the wings’ bases right in the middle, golden blood seeping out of them. In fact, she could even see some of the blisters had already popped, leaving painful blood in their wake. Just above that, she could see the back of their head already bleeding; her hands were stained with too much golden blood at this point.
“What…” Her eyes widened, and her voice let out a gasp. “Gold blood…?” She needed to get this person — Whatever they are — help as soon as possible. But she couldn’t bring someone like this into a hospital in Kalhn, certainly not, unless she wants people to assume she is harbouring a brimmed hat!
Coco grunts as she manages to lift the raven-haired person into her arms, keeping herself mindful of their burns. And with absolute caution, the witch flies away as the sun sets.