It all happened so fast that Helix couldn’t make sense of anything. One moment, he was dangling in the air, foreign fingers digging into his cheeks, and the next everything felt...fine.
As if the Angel of Hope himself had descended. Helix found himself dazed at the sight of the black-haired man, his mouth slightly agape.
He had been freed from the crushing hands of the Prince immediately after the man had arrived, and was now floating near the ground, gently held by the man’s power.
He was tall, almost the same height as the lanky Prince Caspian. One of his arms held Caspian’s own, his grip like metal.
The man—Helix’s father, Malachar Abaddon—was burning with fury and hate. Literally at that. His silver eyes, the same as Alexander’s, were glowing with a pale light.
The roar of a dragon reverberated through the room, heard by every student, and then Malachar vanished, the Prince gone with him.
And finally, after a dozen minutes of grueling exertion, Helix collapsed to his knees, staring blankly at the ceiling.
All around him, chaos had ensued, as the students were now free of the soul-crushing presence holding them down.
The weak of heart were crying openly, tears streaming down their face in an ugly river, staining their already filthy uniforms.
Others sat still in their chairs, staring at the sky where the two men had disappeared, hope slowly reigniting in their hearts.
And then there were the rest, the truly gifted and adaptable from the Blessed sitting in the classroom. That group of about a dozen had split into two groups.
The first group, a mixture of three boys and four girls, were trying to calm the despairing mob, while the other six knelt beside Alexander, working to stop the blood flow.
Willow was with them, Alexander’s head resting on her lap, her hands quivering violently over his. She looked a second away from breaking, yet still held firm, if only for the sake of her fiancé.
"Don’t you dare bleed out on me, Alee. Goddamit, even Azrael herself won’t be able to take you from me."
Tears threatened to fall, but Willow pushed them back. Weakness was something she couldn’t afford at the moment, especially not when her fiancé was dying.
At that moment, seen by none but Alexander, an illusory figure made of onyx light appeared above him, staring down at him with pity.
Staring at the exquisite beauty, like that of an angel, Alexander felt an urge, or rather a need, to prostrate in worship.
He tried to move, but the figure’s hand stopped him mid-motion.
"Alee?"
Alexander could feel an immense sense of longing from the angel above him...his angel. The figure was none other than the patron angel of the Azrael family, the Angel of Death, Azrael herself.
[My beloved child, you have done well. Help is on the way. Rest well, my child, we will meet soon.]
And true to her words, a man soon appeared inside the room as if he had always been there. They were tall, with eyes the color of moonlight and frosted azure hair.
"Principal Eli, help Alexander."
Willow’s words made the principal look at Alexander, and a pained expression passed his face.
"That must hurt. Step aside, Willow dear, let me take a look."
Teachers burst a few moments later, tending to the scarred children. Physical wounds could be healed just fine, but trauma...that was something they would have to overcome themselves.
Throughout the aftermath, a single thought took Helix’s attention...was his father okay?
Meanwhile, high in the sky, another conversation was taking place, only far more violent.
Malachar had managed to move the man far away, but only because he hadn’t tried to resist. The man was smiling at Malachar.
A trait found in most insane people.
"Look at what you did to my performance. How are you going to compensate me, Oh Lord of Destruction?"
A wind of mystical means surged, and the world went cold. Snow started falling, drifting around the two floating figures like tiny spirits.
A white, spectral light started bleeding from the Prince’s side, devouring the azure sky. Malachar looked at the spectacle with indifferent eyes.
A tsunami of violet Ichor burst from beneath Malachar’s feet, swelling high into the sky until it blotted out even the sun.
The sight was mesmerizing, the heavens themselves painted with the colors of Abaddon. The violet tide crashed against the white light, and the world shook.
The sky cracked apart like fine glass hit by a hammer, icy azure cracks spiderwebbing through the very air. It was as if heaven had cracked open, and the sight that followed only confirmed that sentiment.
A pair of wings burst from behind the two men’s backs. The Lord of Destruction had a pair of metallic silver wings, threaded with glowing black veins. They spread over the sky like a blanket, encompassing all of existence.
Meanwhile, the Prince had four wings, each one shorter than Malachar’s own. They were azure, same as the icy cracks threading through the sky. Spots of white dotted their chilling expanse like islands on an endless ocean.
"Now this sure is a problem, isn’t it, Lord Malachar?"
Malachar said nothing, waiting for the Prince to attack.
"Oh my, I forgot all about your curse. You can’t fight me, can you?"
A wide grin split across Caspian’s lips, his eyes cycling through shades of the rainbow. Then finally, they stopped at a cerulean hue, indistinguishable from his wings.
The ghostly light emitting from the Prince slowly disappeared, dissolving in the air.
"As fun as this little...visit has been, I shall take my leave now."
The Prince turned his back on Malachar, wide open to any attacks, yet the Lord of Destruction did...nothing.
"Almost forgot, your young heir’s awakening in a week, right? Make sure security is tight...we don’t want any accidents to take place."
Prince Caspian laughed, then shot off far into the distance, wings tearing through thousands of miles of distance in an instant.
Malachar stared at the departing figure, his gaze glassy, and then disappeared, heading back to his son.