The Ascent of the Angelic Ch. 01

It was the first time Rhys had ever seen one of them. The celestial beings that kept the scraps of the world safe. Golden wings that flashed brightly with every strike of their weapon. A burning halo that seemed to intensify in brightness every moment. A masked visage, hiding away the face of the champion. His mind spent much time wondering, gazing, picturing what could possibly be hidden underneath their hardened armor. They were only a few heads taller than him at most. A loud crash next to him broke his concentration for but a moment. Rhys looked back to see the crumpled body of a warrior, human much like him, yet nearly unrecognizable from the blood that ran down his body. The corpse's grip relaxed, dropping a bent sword to the ground.

"Evade!" a voice boomed in his head. He stood there baffled for a moment before dropping to the dirt and covering his head. Mere seconds later a loud woosh and what sounded like the crack of thunder rang out. Through his arms he peered back. The ramshackle building he stood in front of was a smoldering wreck. He glanced back again at the angelic creature, drawn back into its radiating glory. Fear, however, wrangled his eyes to the massive, mangled creature it held in its many arms. An amalgamation of all things terrible. Something of a bear, skinned, and made all the larger by the corpses it consumed. Despite the spear forced straight through its back, it still snapped and snarled at the warrior of light, screaming with a frightened yet violent anguish. Only a few guards stood by, doing much of nothing but staring.

And what could they do except stare?

Rhys picked himself up and silently prayed for the dead guard. He turned back to the clash. Not much had changed, save for the creature's maw inching ever closer to the gallant warrior, mashing and growling. They made no qualms, no complaints, not a sound escaped from the shining being, only continuing to struggle against the death that seemed all too inevitable now. And what could Rhys do? Whatever he could do, he supposed. He apologized to the guard and took his sword. It was still warm to the touch, heated by the flames that consumed its last wielder's life. It wasn't the first time he held a sword, but it felt like it might be the last. He tightened his grip and began running straight into the danger.

The man's lungs heaved and burned. He must've inhaled more smoke than he thought, but that did little to deter him. That ravenous, snapping creature grew closer. Perhaps he could buy a second, a moment, a chance. His heart pounded. His head ached. Rhys zeroed in on a small gash on the creature's neck, running from a malformed mouth that spewed blood. That was it. Rhys rushed forward. Suddenly he felt the heat emanating from the beast. Ah, so that's why they stood back. The sting of heat hit him not long after as he blew past the guards. There was some shouting, he could hear that much over the roar that pierced his ears. In an instant it stopped.

Rhys plunged the blade deep into the thing's neck, sending out a spurt of sickly green fluid onto the ground. The thing's glassy eyes snapped to him, snarling. The bent blade cleanly broke in half, falling onto the puddle of death. Rhys' whole body was burning, but he was calm. Odd. He should've been scared, shouldn't he? Rhys glanced up. One of the warrior's many arms pulled free from the beast, then they pushed out their chest. A beam of light shot out of them, cleanly producing a sword. In one swift motion they brought the blade down, piercing the beast's head and burying it into the dirt. The heat died. The beast gurgled, straining for a few more seconds before going limp. A twist confirmed its fate.

The full effects of Rhys' stupidity hit him at once, forcing him to the ground with a gasp. He watched as the blade continued downward, pressing the creature's head further against the ground. All the way that empty eye looked back at him, sending a chill up his spine, snuffing out the spikes of pain that ran up his arms. After the creature was still, Rhys was dragged off. More shouting rang in his ears, but they slid away. His gaze firmly stuck to that angelic creature. They stared back through those cracked, emotionless vents.

_

"Why am I here?" Rhys asked, flexing his bandaged arm.

"And where else would you be?" Edwin replied. He was a much older man. Grey had taken up most of his hair, with only a strand or two of a reddish color kicking in his mane. "The last I had seen, your home was in shambles." Edwin slowly went over Rhys' burned arm with a sponge, causing the younger man to hiss.

"I'll build it again," Rhys said. "All the better I get started quicker."

"With your arms seared as they are?" Edwin replied.

"And why not?"

"The next time you try to build a home, you may not even have arms. That's why not." Edwin placed the sponge back into a tub of water. "What drove you to do something so idiotic? I was half convinced you were possessed by a demon yourself."

Rhys stared out of the barn doors and at the distant silent towers. The sun had begun to set, the light cascading through those metal obelisks. "For once, we should do something in turn for our protectors, wouldn't you agree?"

Edwin cocked his head. "What romantic gibberish are you spouting? They are here to guard us, not the reverse." Rhys frowned. "I'm beginning to think you've given up on life."

"Would that be so bad? What future do I have to look forward to now?" A distant bang echoed through the air. "May as well help with those who will save future generations."

"You're spry enough to sire children. For now." Edwin knocked on Rhys' head, forcing his attention back to the older man. "I suggest you focus on that before your untimely, heroic end." Edwin nodded firmly.

"Children." Rhys shook his head. "What kind of person pulls a child into the world like this? You were born when the centers were still alive." He nodded to the distant towers. "It made sense then. Now--"

"Were it not for your parents deciding to have children, you wouldn't be here to do your heroic savior act, hm?"

"I suppose."

"And forget about the centers. There's a reason they're filled with sin now."

"But--" Just then a thump caught the men's attention. Rhys glanced at the entrance to the barn. In its large doorway stood that warrior of light. In one of their larger hands they held that massive spear. Rhys froze, unsure how to react. Perhaps it was a serious transgression for a mere mortal like him to even consider fighting alongside a heavenly creature.

"May we help you?" Edwin asked calmly. Rhys snapped to him, eyes wide. Edwin glanced at him. "Unless you're a demon, I suggest you push your eyes back in your sockets."

"You may." They took a step forward. "Do you own this dwelling?" It was then that Rhys realized there was a striking femininity to their voice. Stoic and cold, yet graced by the gentle timbre of a woman.

"Seeing as how the previous owner is buried. I'd say I own it now, yes," Edwin said. The warrior gripped her spear with another, smaller hand. "And you wanted something from it?"

"A place to rest. Tend to my wounds." Her wings spread out, showing off their brilliant gold sheen.

"Naturally," Rhys quickly replied.

"Naturally," Edwin huffed. He turned back to Rhys and wrapped up the burnt arm. The warrior strode forward and settled down onto a nearby bale of hay. She gently placed her spear against the support of the barn and folded her hands with the bow of her head as if in prayer. Of her four arms, the smaller pair eased into slots along her hide. They looked as though they were merely decorations now. Slowly the imperfections in her hide faded away bit by bit. Rhys noticed the once fiery halo had become subdued. At this distance he could only barely make out inscriptions along its side. As if to judge him, the angel's head turned to meet his gaze. He quickly looked away, focusing back on his arm. They may have been guardians, but they were still fierce and alien. "You haven't done enough gawking?" Edwin whispered.

"You haven't done enough talking?" Rhys muttered.

Edwin chuckled. "Don't get too attached. Sin will snuff them out and faith will bring us another soon enough."

"How can you say such things with them present?" Rhys replied, voice rising.

Edwin turned back as soon as he finished the last of the bandages. "Tell me, guardian, how long have you been on this Earth?"

The angel perked up from her prayer. "Four days and three nights."

"Then you're not experienced with our world yet."

"I would say that is correct. A blink of experience on these terrestrial grounds."

Rhys spoke up, "But surely with your heavenly origins, you would know all, correct?"

"I know all I need to combat the bursts of sin. That is all I am blessed with." She placed a hand on her chest plate then returned to her prayer. Strange that these combatants of light would be so simply taught. The Lord may move in mysterious ways, but this was one of His biggest enigmas yet.

"I've seen a hundred, and a hundred more will come," Edwin said softly. "Find solace in your protection." He gave the wrapped arm a gentle pat. "That is why they are here. Honor them with life." The older man stood up and cleared his throat. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll have to go tend to the more sensible of my patients. Try not to get yourself in any more holy acts." With that, Edwin was off, walking straight out of the barn and out of sight, leaving Rhys to sit in contemplative silence with his guardian angel.

Surely a simple question wouldn't hurt? "Do you have a name?" Rhys asked.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying. "Mehira," she said simply. It brought some surprise that they had names. Mehira's wings folded. "May I ask the same of you? I think it fair to know your name in turn."

"I am Rhys."

"That is quite a fitting name."

"Why do you say that?"

"You simply appear as a Rhys. It has a proper tonation for the flicker of your soul."

His eyes narrowed. He wasn't exactly sure how to react to such a statement. It seemed like a nice thing to say, but he wasn't quite familiar with staring into people's souls. Indeed, it almost made him feel naked.

"Then... would you say Mehira has the same intonation for your soul?" Rhys asked, not entirely sure what he was saying.

"I do not carry the privilege to see the souls of the angelic," Mehira replied. "Only those of our protected mortals. You." Her hand extended before pulling back. "The souls of the sinned as well." Questions began buzzing in Rhys' head. While he had been near one of her kind before, they had never entertained his dialogue. "I see you flicker, even now. Is something amiss, Rhys? Your wounds?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. No, truth be told I'm only curious about you-- Well, the angelic presence as a whole."

"Curiosity has done your driven souls well." Mehira looked off at the towers. "And has done you worse."

"I must thank you for saving us," Rhys said suddenly. "Myself specifically. I doubt I would be little more than a burnt mark on the ground now if it weren't for you. Hardly fitting for someone at my spry age."

"You needn't give me thanks. This is my purpose. I exist for you and the rest of the Lord's creations." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "Regardless, I had felt your gratitude when your gaze graced me."

"Surely I could show it in some way?"

"As I recall, you showed me your gratitude by plunging your iron blade into the sinned's neck." She leaned forward. "I would say, were it not for you, nothing would remain of my mortal carriage. Perhaps not even of my soul, as much as I shudder at the thought." Mehira placed a hand on her chest. Saving one of the guardians was more than enough heroism for a lifetime, even as expendable as everyone made them out to be.

"No. I doubt that. I'm certain you'd have prevailed without me." Rhys held up his arms. "I couldn't even approach without being cooked well." Mehira stood up and walked over to him. While she was only a few heads taller, she still had an air of intimidation to her, in both size and through her elaborate armor. Though up close, Rhys could pick up the more subtly feminine parts of her form. The bump of a chest. The wider hips. Even a smaller set of shoulders. He quickly looked away in the off chance his leering bubbled up through his soul. However that worked.

Mehira offered him her hand. "May I?" she asked. Rhys nodded. She gently but firmly pulled him up to his feet. Her smaller arms peeled away from her armor and went over his wrappings. "So delicate, and yet you have all accomplished so much. As I would expect of the faithful." While intimidating, there was a great comfort to be had in the grasp of a guardian like this. As if nothing in the world could come to harm Rhys.

"Are you certain I can't repay you in some way?" Rhys blurted out.

Mehira stared at him. "Even if I were to want that, what could you give?" She continued to massage his arm. "I will make sure to pray for your swift recovery." She was right. What could he offer now? His home was little more than a collection of wooden flakes and metal. Much of the same could be said of his possessions, save for the clothes on his back. Somehow he doubted she cared for a few woven threads. There was a moment of silence before she let his arm fall back to his side. It was then he noticed she was breathing. Clearly she was on some level mechanical, but there was a quiet grind of metal and a low rush of air.

"I don't suppose you'd care for my life?" Rhys said with a half-hearted smile.

"You seem awfully insistent on bargaining away your soul for other things. It would be wise to cease such a dangerous trade."

"It was a joke."

"Do not joke about your own thread of life. The Lord put you here for a reason."

"I suppose that's true," Rhys said with a nod. She was beginning to sound like Edwin, or perhaps Edwin sounded like her. "All I can offer now is my friendship, if that would suffice."

"That would do more than suffice, thank you, Sir Rhys."

"Please." Rhys sat down. "I'm not any sort of warrior."

"You seemed skilled enough with your iron blade. Forced the metal into the sinned's scarred neck." Rhys could still feel the heat lingering on his arms.

"Dumb luck perhaps. The only one willing to throw it all away." He straightened up. "Not that I would do that now, of course."

"And what drove you to such a decision? I admit my gratitude, but in no way would trade your well-being for mine." Mehira took up the spot next to Rhys.

"It seemed as though you needed help. I understand you do what you do out of goodwill, but I figured it was time someone showed you their gratitude." Rhys shrugged. "Didn't quite help my home had been destroyed yet again, which seems like a fact of life now."

Mehira's wings shuffled about. "I understand the reasoning as much as I worry for it." She looked out of the barn, then stood up. "Come, there is something you may yet provide me."

Rhys followed her lead. "What would that be?" he asked.

"Show me your life." She extended a wing out, motioning to the doors.

"Will you be bringing your spear?"

"Let it stay. A sign I will return."