71. Samael

Samael

T he following weeks pass slowly. Erelah keeps making me eat more of those fruit and nut bars during this time—is that all they eat on this planet? Then, they should be happy when I free them of their misery.

She keeps working on my wings almost daily. She touches me with care, almost as if she is scared that she’ll hurt me.

It confuses me. It unsettles me. I don’t like it.

I’m a Nephilim. A warrior forged in battle, who has known only brutal training and endless fights, not this, whatever Erelah is trying to achieve with her…actions. If she is looking for sympathy, she will find none. Nephilims do not need feelings. I have no need for anything that will distract me from my mission of restoring everything to its original state.

Soon, this world will be destroyed. But before that, I’ll take great pleasure in killing any life form living on this planet, to bathe myself in their blood.

Including Erelah. Maybe I will start with her, so I won’t have to always see her starry eyes. Or smell her sweet scent. It’s…sickeningly sweet. I don’t like it.

What will she do when I raise my sword to strike her?

She doesn’t seem to have been created for battle. She is…different from the Nephilim females. She doesn’t wear armor, nor do I see her carrying any weapon with her. Maybe she has one under her robe, but I haven’t had a chance to verify. Even if she were to have a dagger or a sword, it wouldn’t save her from me. Nothing will.

I am stronger and faster than her.

Or, I will be when I am fully healed.

I take another bite of the fruit and nut bar in my hand—so help me Ophyr, if I have to eat one more of these, I’ll snap—and try not to shudder as Erelah’s hands move across my wings. Her touch doesn’t bother me…but I can’t say I like it either. She talks to me in her strange yet melodious language, and I listen while I imagine how this world will look once I burn everything to the ground. She tried to teach me her language, but stopped when I showed no interest in it. I have no need for a language that will soon be dead.

Erelah finishes another round of healing. She looks pleased. There’s still a dull ache in the junction between my wing and shoulder, but it’s just a nuisance I’ll forget in a few minutes.

She motions at my wings, and it takes me only a few seconds to understand what she wants, so I flap my wings for her. The dull pain turns into a burning sensation. Beads of sweat appear on my forehead. I lean against the wall and take a deep breath while I try to think about what I’ll do in case my wings never fully recover.

Asa can be the new general, but I don’t want that. I don’t want to die. Not until Ophyr and the rest of my army are found. But without my wings, I’m as good as dead.

Maybe I can hide my injuries from the others until I kill enough angels and demons to harvest their divine power to fix my wings. For that, I must convince Erelah to remove the chain around my ankle.

I’ve tried breaking it, but it turns out that it is connected to her divine power, so unless she sets me free or I kill her, I will continue to be her prisoner.

For now, it doesn’t seem like such a bad fate. If only she would bring me something better to eat and maybe let me train with my sword, then I wouldn’t be so bored out of my mind.

A feather falls from one of my wings, and Elerah watches it until it lands next to my feet. She watches it with sadness in her eyes.

Is she sad…for me?

I might not have feelings, but I have studied angels long enough to understand their expressions.

“Blah!” I mutter. “If falling from the sky didn’t kill me, nothing will. There’s no need to feel sad for a feather,” I say bitterly.

Erelah smiles, her eyes shining so warmly. What made her so happy? I sit on the bed. Erelah does the same. She looks at me expectantly. What does she want from me? I don’t know. Ever since she found me, my head has been full of questions. But the one that keeps me awake is: why did she save me?

I already came to the conclusion that she doesn’t know who I am, so why bother healing a stranger?

She says something to me, but I don’t bother to listen to her. It wouldn’t matter if I did since I don’t understand her.

I jerk my gaze to the entrance of the cave. It is snowing. It has snowed every day since Erelah brought me here. Surprisingly, it is quite warm inside. Even if it was freezing in here, it wouldn’t have mattered since it wouldn’t affect me. And the clothes Erelah brought for me shield me from the elements.

Erelah grabs my face between her palms and makes me look at her. My brows draw together because I don’t know what she expects from me. She keeps talking until she lets out a big sigh and puts the tip of her forefinger against my mouth.

It dawns on me that it’s the first time she has heard me talk. I had nothing to say to her until now.

“Do you want me to talk?” I inquire even if she won’t understand what I’m saying.

A huge smile erupts across her face. She starts talking, and for the first time, I make an effort to listen to her. I barely catch some of the sounds she makes; her words flow like a river and are impossible to follow. Ophyr created the language I speak, and no one except the Nephilims speaks it. It is more guttural, with sounds that start in the throat, while Erelah seems to…sing.

I didn’t want to admit it until now, but I could listen to her speak for…hours. Such a waste of time.

“I will kill you, Erelah. When you least expect it, your blood will turn the snow red. And when I am done with you, everyone else will follow,” I tell her exactly what I plan to do to her.

Erelah tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowed.

“I have nothing else to say,” I grunt. There’s no use speaking if she doesn’t understand.

I turn my attention back to the snow. How do I make her remove the chain? I am done sitting here, doing nothing.

Eralah does something that takes me completely by surprise. She stands on her tiptoes and strokes my hair.

“Did you just…pet me?” My eyes narrow to slits. Soft giggles slip past her lips. “I wonder if you’ll laugh when my sword cuts you open.”

Erelah, oblivious to my ill intention toward her, grabs my hand and drags me to the mouth of the cave. The chain is long enough to allow me to set foot out of the cave. Snow falls around Erelah and me. She looks at the sky like it’s the best thing she has ever seen.

I can’t understand what she sees so beautiful about winter. Everything is white, cold, and dull.

Erelah puts her hand in the air, the palm facing up, and catches a snowflake. With a radiant smile, she looks at me, her palm now between us. Stars flicker in her eyes.

There’s an ache in my chest that I’ve never felt before.

“Who are you, Erelah?”