Heaven's Fall

The ones who had fallen could not have fallen far.

Honestly, Dallas knew how far any could fall. The stretch between the Heavenly Gates and the streets of Brooklyn was a treacherous one, and the land he had been forced to call home for the last 7 years even broader. How was he to know Earth was so vast?

Seven long years. No trace of Mycah.

'Hopefully he goes by that name.'

The streets had a buzz to them as dusk fell overhead. So much glow, so much racket, Dallas’s head had started to buzz as well. He hadn’t a clue how these people could produce so many sounds, how they eluded a constant state of headache.

He pulled the haphazardly constructed tracer from the storage case and pressed the ‘on’ button. A moment passed by for the dull screen to flash on, and Dallas felt dread deep down as the gadget revealed a dot, a few hours out by the looks of the tracer’s measurements.

'The same state, only a few hours away.'

Dallas took off at a run, a curse on the tongue at the burst of agony from the shattered appendages strapped down beneath the black tee he wore. He shuddered, as though the blade had returned.

He would not fall short. He would get the story back on track.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To have power and to suffer are the same. One cannot fly and not fall.

Mycah had fallen too often before. Now, he had the pak of an Angel of the Court, and they would carry the Shadow Lord to the heavens.

He stood watch over the valley below, watched the colors of the sun meld among the hues of darkness. Shadows churned at the back of the crest, and from them emerged a mass of red and black metal and weaponry. Mycah half-turned to meet umbral eyes, and the mouth beneath them upturned, a hefty sneer that bore good news.

“We have located a Fallen. Our trackers have placed one about a day’s travel west from here. He appears to be headed our way. We may be able to stay here and cut them off.”

“Have your trackers actually seen the Fallen you say they have located?” Mycah coaxed.

“One has, my lord,” he answered proudly. “Dusty mane, blue eyes-”

“You have just alluded to thousands of Heaven's angels, Druval!” Mycah shouted, the general hushed by the truculent tone. He groaned, head lowered to the ground as he took a breath for a moment. “Tell me your thoughts, Druval. You are my most trusted. Do you-”

“We found your angel, my lord.”

Mycah pored over the knowledge wordlessly, as Druval rested on the peaceful atmosphere of the valley around them, held back on Mycah’s word.

“We shall hold back,” he agreed. “He should cross our path eventually. We shall be ready when he does.”

“Yes, my lord.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The taste of Earth on the tongue as a boot reached the leather of Dallas’s vest and he was hurled to the ground. He had never forgotten the memory of that sharp, sour tang, nor the torturous ache of the severance of bone and muscle. They tore, pulled apart at a slug’s pace, and eventually they fell as he had once before, though much slower, or at least he had thought so. He had forgotten so much of the subsequent hours of the dawn as every part of the body opted to fade to a peaceful state of numbness. The desolate nature left a cool, unbreakable layer over every bone.

“You have my eternal thanks for what you have done for my people, angel. Fear not, we two shall not cross paths anew. We have what we came for.”

‘Not even a goodbye. An apology,’ Dallas had mentally scoffed at that moment.

Now, all he was left to wonder was one thought:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Were you even sorry at all?!”

The two froze on a battleground of sparkly early-December frost and the putrescent appendages of resurrected troops. After some odd-hours of combat Dallas lost the means to recall the ones that belonged to each of them.

For a breadth of a second, Dallas could be persuaded that what he saw flash across Mycah’s face was remorse, regret, but the longer ago the fall happened, the harder he had to be swayed.

'He’s not the same as you once knew.

The tremors rang the same as they had long ago as Mycah’s bony, cold hand traced a path down Dallas’s jaw. The atmosphere between them danced a waltz of penury, agony, told a tale of war and sung a song of beauty gone so horrendously awry.

The ones who had fallen could not have fallen far.

“No one’s fall was harder than my own,” Dallas choked, the ash heavy on the tongue. He turned away, and the hand fell back to Mycah’s . “My brethren fell for my offenses, were charged for the trust they gave to me, all for that trust to be worthless!”

Dallas’s sword met Mycah’s throat and the two shared a dangerous glare.

“You corrupted my heavenly soul. You robbed me of my home, my purpose-”

“My love-”

“Ugh, no!” Dallas groaned as he pushed away from Mycah, head held by pale hands that wavered as he stumbled back. “No, you…you do not get to call me that! Not anymore! You stole all of me. The only one that ever loved you, and you-”

“Love has no value. Not when power holds true as the only path to freedom left. How can anyone love when they cannot be free, Caelum?”

The scream that burst from Dallas’s chest could shatter the Heavenly Palaces, or at least he felt so. Flames seared through every ounce of muscle. He dropped to one knee and the world around them was promptly depleted of color. Through the haze, Dallas could see Mycah move closer, and even struck down by the holy theurgy, he managed to draw back.

“You are not well. Cae-”

“Stop, stop! Do not say that!”

“Your name…?”

“Do you honestly expect that the Lord would allow my name to be uttered throughout the lands he forged?! You robbed me of me, Jaak!”

“You forget my lack of say, Cae…”

“Dallas,” he exhaled, eyes locked thoroughly to the ground. “Please.”

“Dallas…” The name could not completely roll off the tongue, and those few letters held up Mycah’s throat. He felt as though he had uttered the name of a corpse, a soul lost to the very same heavens and hells that locked them both up, held them down.

‘What a ruthless cycle.’

“There was no other path for us,” Mycah stated, and eventually, the two locked eyes. “You have my sorrows and my regrets, love. That would be my only hope – that you know of all of the regret my heart holds, and shall carry on forevermore-”

Dallas felt, at that moment, that the blade to the heart would have hurt less, had to hurt less. ‘Surely,’ he scoffed, ‘my heart can bear no further aches.' He had been wrong so often before. What was once more?

‘Well’, he thought, as he gazed down through glassy eyes at Mycah’s arm, the sword’s handle enclosed by a free and unobstructed hand, watched Mycah pull back and the muscle and blood of Dallas’s chest go along. ‘Jaak was always so very able to create new ways to break your heart.’

“My people shall remember all that you have done for us, my love. Maybe one day we can meet once more, surrounded by the ashes of the Heavens.”

Just when he thought that the fallen, surely, could not fall any further, Dallas watched as Mycah made use of the bloody hand to etch out Peter’s Rune, grass coated scarlet before each blade began to glow the lustrous hue of Heaven’s gates. Mycah turned back for merely a moment, caught Dallas’s eyes, leaned closer and pecked Dallas’s forehead.

Dallas watched Mycah take off through the freshly-forged portal on pak that had no place on a demon’s shoulders.

The fallen have fallen, and they have taken Heaven down as well.