When I peeked my head out to get a look at the yard, I was met with devastation. Our tall privacy fencing was shattered and strewn across everyone else's yards, and our nice green lawn, mown twice a week by yours truly, had a brand new crater fifteen feet wide, which was still releasing steam and smoke.
Cautiously, I approached the edge of where the kitchen windows used to be and peered out and down the gently sloping yard at the crater. Nothing moved for several seconds, and then another scream shook the air. My gut twisted with fear, but… it wasn't because of the scream.
The voice was obviously feminine, and damned powerful too. Just like before, it sounded otherworldly, like it had an underlying force behind it. If there had ever been a voice that sounded like it belonged to a goddess, it was this one.
Without really examining why, I carefully dropped down out of the hole in the kitchen. It was a whole ten feet, because of the walkout basement below the kitchen. My knees were unhappy with the fall, but I barely noticed the pain as I rushed down to the edge of the crater.
As soon as I could see inside, I froze.
What… what was I looking at. I swayed, so rattled by what I was staring at that I had to use all my brain power to make sense of what I was seeing. It couldn’t be… this wasn’t… I blinked, then blinked again. Nope, she was still there.
Laying at the bottom of the concave hole, was what I could only describe as an angel. Battered ornamental plate armour covered her, its golden inlay scrollwork catching the light of the afternoon sun. All six of her radiant white wings were under her, their feathers broken, singed, and outright missing in places. Gosh, and her body. It was strong, powerful, exquisitely beautiful, and tall. She looked like she could pick up a car and throw it through a brick wall, and do it with more elegance and grace than an olympic gymnast.
As for the screams… piercing her torso was a long, scythe-shaped claw of black chitin. If the section I could actually see was anything to go by, it had to be as tall as she was, which, at an estimate, was seven feet or more.
She moved, twitching with pain, then lifted shaking gauntleted hands and pushed at the claw. It moved, but only slightly, and when she lost her strength it fell back, cutting deeper through her gut. More blood spilled out of her — as red as mine, but shining with silver specks. She screamed again, tears rolling down her alabaster cheeks.
Oh, shit. I had to help her!
Scrambling, I rushed down the loose dirt to her side and stopped, uncertain where to even begin to help. It was bad to just yoink something out of a person, right? It'd make the bleeding worse?
“Young one,” she gasped, the act of speaking obviously hurting her immensely. “I am… I am so sorry…”
“Why are you sorry?” I asked, confused. Ah, fuck. The claw was dripping black ichor. Even as I watched, some of it dropped to the skin of her arm, where the armour was missing entirely. The drop of black liquid splashed over her and sizzled, staining the skin.
She touched the claw. “Help me remove this vile weapon. Its corruption stains me with every heartbeat.”
Sceptically, I grasped the claw carefully around the base, where none of the strange acid could be found, and looked into the angel's eyes. If she wanted it gone… well, I wasn't going to argue with an eight foot tall angel.
With a nod, she reached up again and together, we pulled the cruel weapon out of her. There was no scream this time, just a whimper. Her hands rushed to press down on the wound while I quickly tossed the claw a few feet away.
Shit, shit shit shit. There really was more blood coming out. “It went through, you're only covering one side… the blood, you're… Oh god, oh god, this isn’t real. This cannot be real. What… no, I feel you, but you’re… you’re an angel. How? What is happening?”
The blood kept pumping out of her while I stared. A fucking angel was dying in my backyard! I had to help her, I had to—
“Shush, young one. I am afraid this is real, and I am, indeed an angel.” Her voice sounded like it was getting weaker already, and something about how she breathed… I reached, trying to get around her large body, trying to plug the hole, but her shaking hand closed over my forearm.
“Your… your kindness does you great credit, but your efforts will be futile,” she coughed, spitting up black-tainted blood. “The future is set. I will die. I would rather my dying actions were spent continuing my duty, rather than floundering around, attempting…” She wheezed, and her eyelids fluttered closed against the pain. “The corruption will kill me before the loss of blood, I am afraid.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. It seemed horrifying that a being like her could just die. It didn’t feel right — like the universe had failed in its cosmic duty or something. Angels were real. This was…
Her eyes slowly opened again, like it was an incredible effort just to make eye contact again. “You need to listen. I will do what I can to help, to prepare you. Now, again, I am so sorry. My sisters and I, we failed. We were not enough. I was the last of us, the last to stand between your world and the Storm.”
I gulped. It was never good when you could hear the capital letter on a word. “What is the Storm?”
“It is a structure, an entity of unimaginable scope, so titanic and unknowable that even the gods do not understand it. It sweeps through the cosmos, changing, restructuring, claiming. Even the parasites that swarm around it…” She gestured to the discarded claw-weapon. “...Are beneath its notice, if it is capable of noticing anything.”
Sounds like some sort of extremely distant eldritch god or something — but no, she just mentioned gods, so it was above them? Wow.
The wheezing in her breaths was getting worse, and she frowned, concentrating. “You have already been integrated. You felt the choice, and the power that comes with it. Be ready to use it, for you will need that power. Monsters will come, and your native wildlife will mutate beyond all recognition. The skin of the earth will split, and the realms beyond will be forced through the ruptures. Nothing you have known will remain unchanged, and all that you hold dear will be threatened…”
It sounded like she was describing the apocalypse. People like me, we died in those. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be part of the… the nameless statistic, the number that gets tossed around in five, ten years.
Pain crashed through the angel’s expression, and she clenched her teeth. “Listen. You must grow the Storm’s power inside you. Embrace it. Then, when the time comes, bring down righteous carnage on all who would do evil.”
I shook my head. “What about… what about safety? What about people who can't fight, or…”
“Strength will bring safety. Strength, and unity. Band together with any who live through the first shocks,” she said weakly. “Create a Zone of Safety. Support one another. You must… you must save as many as you are able, little one. You must…”
My heart sank. “But… I'm just a Tinker, ma'am. I didn't even get the option of choosing to be some sort of warrior.”
Beneath the crossbar of her winged helmet, her artful brows furrowed. “One with your kindness, your good and eager heart? No… you will not ride out the Stormfall with no means to protect yourself…”
She paused again, either to think, or because the poison was beginning to creep into critical organs.
Her gaze slipped down to her hand, with the black veins of the poison radiating through it, she said, “It is greatly weakened, but… perhaps the storm can take it — make something new, something different. It has that tendency, that is certain. Yes. I can still help, I can still light a small spark of hope within you, young one.”
“What?” I asked, confused and beginning to feel more than a little apprehensive.
“I will pass my power on to you, diminished and tarnished as it is,” she said, her voice growing in intensity once more. “Take it, I beg of you, and use it to save as many lives as you can. I know not what the tainted essence of an angel will do to you, but I am sure that the storm order will twist it until it is of use to you.”
“Your… essence?” My head was spinning. She was using the little time she had left to give me and everyone around me the chance to survive, but I didn't even understand what we were meant to fight.
She nodded. “Yes. Say you will take it, young one. Say you will bear the burden of my grace, and I will give it unto you.”
“I will… I will bear the burden of your grace,” I whispered. I understood just enough of what was happening to be in awe of the events unfolding. This was a ritual of some kind.
She closed her eyes, smiling for the first time since I'd met her. “Thank you…”
After a deep breath to steady herself, she pushed up and stumbled into a kneeling position. Blood flowed out of both ends of her wound, but she ignored it as she cupped her hands over her heart.
“Oh sacred goddess of dawn and dusk, whose radiant glow holds the gluttony of hate from consuming worlds, hear my plea,” she called, opening her hands out to the sky. “I am spent! My mortal vessel is tainted with vile imperialist poison, but there is still one final act I may take to aid our war. Allow me to pass my grace onwards, to this young heart, whose actions during my dusk have shown the purity of their soul. I beseech thee, oh dawning light!”
Gold and silver light radiated out from the angel as she shouted the last of her prayer, and I stood breathless before her, waiting…
I was expecting some sort of divine bolt of lightning, or maybe a glowing orb to pop out of the angel and fly over to implant in my chest.
Instead, the angel disintegrated into sparkling dust, which rode the wind right into me. I was knocked back onto my ass once again while a white-hot surge of energy lit me on fire from the inside out. All over my body, I felt an overwhelming tingle of energy as the dust that used to be the angel coated my skin.
“You will not be able to hold the form of a divine spirit for long, good-heart. Eventually you will return to this form you now hold. With time, however, you will gain the skill and power needed to maintain the transformation,” the angel’s voice whispered gently in my mind, and I felt an impression, like I was seeing her with a set of eyes that I didn’t have. She was whole and shining, falling down into a swirling, twisting bright light. “This first time, the transformation will be longer while your soul acclimates to the new power. Do not tarry. Put the power to use — fly far, save all those you can, bring them together. There is safety in numbers, and you will need their help. The storm is here, and its cousin, the fog, will follow after. Oh, and choose your god wisely. Not all of the celestial pantheon are to be trusted like my queen is.”
“O-okay,” I managed to say, before I was pulled bodily to my feet by an unseen force. Oh, this was going to hurt.
My blood began to quicken in my veins, and each pump of my heart blazed silver light from my skin. Divinity, celestial might — I could feel a power rising… but another presence made itself known. Everywhere the shining light touched, a second, darker thread tarnished the work of the first. Resplendent silver was corrupted, its edges blackening with oxidation, and I felt the euphoric emotions welling within me turn to arrogance.
Was this the corruption the angel was talking about? It had to be. The poison had gotten into her soul, or whatever, and now… now it was trying to take me.
No! No way! I wouldn't let the gross ichor stuff change me into something hideous or evil. A part of my mind laughed. Right. The angel couldn't beat it, but Kai, the terrified, confused, weak little boy, would hold it back. Yeah, I may as well just give up. I was fucked.
The alien arrogance recoiled, like it was burned by the self-depreciating thoughts. It swirled, stunned and directionless. Wait, it didn’t like that? If I could, I would’ve laughed. Well, if you hated that, Mr Corruption, you may as well have the rest.
Through my mind, I dug and dug, like a scum sucking bottom feeding fish, sifting through the muck at the bottom of a swamp. I pulled at all the dark thoughts I usually ignored, and I examined them.
Even when I was young, I knew I was… worthless. I could spend all day explaining in detail why that was the case, but the reasons are honestly not important. I was a mediocre boy, another dull grey cog in the machine of society, destined to grind my way into a career that I would come to hate, despite any entry-level excitement I held for it. Then, I would toil away, earning pointless money to prolong my existence until reality got sick of me and cancelled the whole sorry affair. Sure, there’d be some bright spots in my life, a husband or wife, I honestly didn’t mind which, and maybe some children of my own, but nothing I did would be worth a damn in the end.
That was just the pressures of society too — the weight of external reality. There was so much about me that was just boring, average… grey. Others liked to go on about how nice I was, but that was just my baseline. It wasn’t special. Then there were my looks, god I hated how I looked. I was an inch under six feet tall and thin, but with way too much hair in some pretty gross places. Plus, my face was so… average. I had a strong jawline, but it was undercut by a soft and squishy baby face that the other guys in my year group had grown out of five years ago. I know that I definitely didn’t think of myself as attractive. Not like, say, Alec, one of my other friends. He was cute with his big goofy grin and his slightly floppy dark hair. It grew far too fast, and his infrequent visits to the hairdresser weren't enough to tame it.
The point was, I was a nobody, and deep down, I would probably always think that. Nobody was going to be able to change that, not even Marc and the way he constantly talked me up.
The corruption, the arrogance inside me, it writhed in pain, tearing at itself as its antithesis burned it. Cold, hard, truthful self loathing was my weapon — a shard of ice that I held in my heart like a prized possession. So, I grasped that comforting spear of self-hate and I rammed it deep into the poison that was threatening to corrupt my transformation. The scream it made… oh, it was so damned sweet. It would not twist my transformation. It was mine.