Angel Camp

                Eve’s eyes lit up when she saw the camp, they were safe. She turned to Josiah and breathed a sigh of relief, her breath warming the chilly night air.

“We made it, we’re safe…for now,” Eve breathed a sigh of relief and in her joy she gave Josiah a quick hug, she blushed and went into the tent. Josiah stood there stunned for a minute, shook his head, chuckled and walked into the tent.

“Ah, Captain, Eve, welcome back…where are the new ones?”  Major Elijah asked, immediately regretting it, when tears welled up in Eve’s eyes, “She got them didn’t she?” Eve’s tears dropped to the ground producing lily of the valley.

“Her attack came out of nowhere, they were deadly silent and more efficient than last time, her destroyers have improved, and they must have had more training…”

“Josiah, Elijah, if you would please excuse me, I need to sleep” Eve left the tent quietly, knowing that the angels would want to talk over what had happened.

She walked to the creek she could hear to her east, and rinsed off her sweaty face. She took a sip of the cool refreshing water and reflected on her purpose. There were three different types of caskets out there, the white, the black and the multi-coloured.  The white indicated when a person was ready to hear the truth and be awakened, the multi-coloured meant that the person was still in the process of getting ready, and the black meant the opposite of the white. The black caskets were dangerous, the people inside not being ready to be awakened. If Desdemonda opened a black casket, the person inside would be lost. Forever trapped to serve the dark kingdom. When they came across a black casket, they buried it and marked it in unique ways so that only they would know the location and could return every so often to check the status of the person.

“Father, thank you so much for my life, today, tomorrow and always. I know that you will take care of the young ones who came to know you today, and I thank you for your overwhelming loving grace that saves, and protects. Father, please, protect our night, that we may have no more attacks, so that we may peacefully rest our heads,” Eve closed her eyes, stood still for a minute, and ever so gracefully walked to her tent, laid down and immediately fell asleep.

               

                Josiah and Elijah pored over the maps that lay out in front of them, discussing the next best possibility of where the caskets were located.

“We haven’t been to the North yet, Desdemonda has been known to use that area as training ground, there is a possibility that more caskets lay there,” Josiah shook his head in silent frustration, knowing that the probable areas would be the ones where the demons would be frequenting. The only caskets that the demons could open were the black ones, and the only time they could take someone from a white casket, was when they were awake, the proof of this earlier that evening. Josiah replayed the bloody battle in his mind, seeing Desdemonda rip and tear the limbs off of an especially young one named Thea. She was so tiny and so compact, and yet you could see the love of Shepherd shining so brightly out of her lavender eyes. Desdemonda had seen how much Thea wanted to live for Shepherd and had taken on the task of destroying her. Josiah pinched the bridge of his nose as he remembered not being able to do anything after her neck snapped, seeing the look of shock on her face, and Eve’s devastation. He should have known that Desdemonda would be hanging around that area, the place where the very first casket was discovered by his team, the place where they had awakened not only a white casket, but a white that was shining and teaming with life. Eve. He sighed as he internally kicked himself for failing to recognize that the demons would remember that place as well. He shook off the despair and turned his attention back to the maps.

“Yes, the North is a very great possibility, Desdemonda would know that you would want to get to those caskets,” Elijah looked up and saw Josiah sigh.

“I don’t know how we are going to get in there to find out; perhaps we could send out a recon team…” Josiah trailed off, knowing that the recon teams were otherwise engaged, in territory that was far more dangerous than the North.

“No, impossible,” Elijah stated, “they are occupied, staking out territory to the East”

Josiah sighed again, sat down, pulled a piece of parchment towards him, and started drawing up a plan for the next day. It was going to be a long night.

In the Throne Room

Desdemonda looked up at the throne room door, wishing that she didn’t have to do this; she would be punished for sure. Prince Lucifer hated everything, everything, even her, his most effective destroyer. More than he hated her however, he hated the Shepherd, hated him with every inch and bit of his cold bitter black cavity in his chest. The rumour was that when Lucifer declared himself better than Shepherd, his heart stopped, turned to stone, and fell out of his chest. He was then sent to live in the abyss on the far eastern coast, a bitter land of freezing cold winds, jagged sharp rocks, and no relief from any of the elements that constantly rage. It was hell.

                Desdemonda waited for her name to be announced and she proceeded into the throne room. She knew that looking at her feet would be futile, he could sense her rage. She looked up and saw the most beautiful man, at least, Lucifer as he looked to her. He had gorgeous blue eyes, ink black hair, the most chiselled jaw and perfect nose. Even though she admired his perfection, it disturbed her in a way, knowing that he looked different to everyone.  

“Desdemonda,” Lucifer spoke in his smooth, seducing silky voice, “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to come back empty handed, after your last punishment I would have thought you would have done better.  Or did you get a strange thrill out of it?” he chuckled in a deep bass that sent shivers down Desdemonda’s spine.
”Your highness, I had her, her cloak was in my hand. She was caught!! I HAD HER!!”

Lucifer glared at her with intense hate, “Yet, she somehow managed to escape you again. You are testing my extremely limited amount of patience. If you don’t have her the next time you meet her, you are going to suffer more than you can imagine,” his voice had become chilling, enough to raise goosebumps on Desdemonda’s skin. She looked back up at his face, noting the false warmth in his eyes had disappeared, his eyes turning pitch black.

“If you fail me one more time, I will have to take matters into my own hands. And that is never pretty.”

The Warring Angels

Eve breathed in and out quickly as she ran down the cliff with the warriors. She had gotten lucky, and she was not looking back. Desdemonda and her demon destroyers had gotten their newest truth seekers. She signalled to the warriors that they should stop and take a break. She flopped herself down onto a rock and started crying for those who had fallen. It was not fair; they had just understood and made the crossover into the light. Her tears flowed freely dropping like little crystals and immediately shoots of tulips popped up out of the ground. She smiled through her tears as she thought of the blessing of her gift. She was a giver of life, and her emotions brought all sorts of beauty into the world. She sniffed, straightened up and turned to Captain Josiah, “I’m sorry Captain, this is entirely my fault. I should never have suggested taking the young ones to that place,”

“Eve, don’t fear, and don’t fret, they have gone to be with the King, and they are now in a much safer place,” Josiah said. He knew that Eve would blame herself, and he didn’t want her to shoulder that responsibility. She had enough on her plate already, travelling with them, waking the sleepers and teaching them the truth. That was their only job; to search out the sleepers and wake them. The issue that they kept running into was Desdemonda and her demon destroyers. Stealing the young ones, twisting the truth to their version, killing those who wouldn’t go to the dark kingdom, maiming the poor younglings, she was sick and twisted, and would do anything to stop them. “Eve, we should continue moving, we don’t know if she’s got a secondary sweep team,”

“Yes, you’re right Captain, they are in a much better place, basking in eternal life with the King,” Eve stated, thinking of how happy the new angels would be. “Let’s leave, and be careful to avoid the mud, it will leave tracks later, and we don’t want a sweep team to find them.”

                The warriors and Eve got up and continued the frantic flight down the cliff, running with urgent haste to put as much distance between them and the battlefield. Eve knew that Desdemonda would send a team in the morning to see if they could find anything that her keen eyes may have missed. She knew that Desdemonda would be furious with herself for letting her escape, Eve remembered the moment when her cloak had been caught, seemingly on a tree branch, and when she had turned to look, Desdemonda had a wicked grin on her face, and her hand wrapped around the cloak. It had been a struggle to slip out of the cloak when Desdemonda had been distracted by her victory. Her grip was like an iron vice, strong and filled with malice and hate. It had taken all her willpower to get free even with the distraction. Eve closed her eyes and plunged further down the cliff.

The Beginning

Desdemonda walked through the wreckage of the battlefield, stepping over dead bodies and limbs that had been dismembered by her and her crew. She smiled at herself as she thought of the deadly force that her team unleashed on the warring angels. The angels had gotten lucky, only a few of their weaklings fell. She frowned then, thinking of how her target had gotten away, literally slipping through her fingers. Prince Lucifer would not be happy; Eve had been elusive for years since she had found the truth. She sighed and continued to walk through the burning field, kicking up dust as she went. She had no luck; the fire had burned away any evidence of their escape. She cursed, and her eyes flashed red, her black wings unfurled and she took off into the night.

Broken Wings. Pt. 2

I stare up at the stars, the aching pain of the destruction of my wings still coursing throughout my body. The night sky mocks me with its seemingly unending expanse. My wings flutter in a futile attempt at escape. There is no hope here. My eyes are flooded with tears and my heart keeps shattering into pieces as I feel the delicate softness of my wings under my feet. I collapse back into a heap on the floor, frustrated and overwhelmed at my situation. My lips are salty from the continual tears that run down my face. I shut my eyes and force myself to sleep. The morning dawns with an angry red sky and ferocious winds are chilling me to the bone. I stare up again at the walls of my prison, what little hope I had of the morning bringing a better situation leaves me. The walls are still wet and slick, an impossible climb. My throat tightens and I let a fresh wave of tears run in rivulets down my cheeks. I pull the remnants of my silken wings toward me and hold it in my arms. I am so weak.

Broken Wings. Pt. 1

                The walls are closing in. I’m short of breath. This tiny little box is keeping my wings from fluttering. They are so fragile after all. They are made of a delicate silk that is soft to the touch. Yet these damn walls are keeping them tight against me, preventing my escape. I feel the first tear, the harsh stone rips a hole through my wing and I cry out in agony. The next tear is larger, and it rips through my other wing, and I fall to the ground in absolute wrenching pain. I curl into a ball and let the walls do their damage. My wings have been shredded. I can no longer fly. There is no escape from this wretched hole. It has dragged me down, and now has taken my only way of escape. The tears flow freely down my face as I see the delicate silk of my wings lying tattered and ruined on the floor. I retch as I know a part of me has been taken away. I lay on the floor for hours, watching as the sun creeps down the wall as it sets. I cry some more for the lost beauty of the day, for the loss of my freedom. I am trapped in this hole. I stand up and try to climb out, but the walls are slick, and there are no handholds. My nails scrape off in my attempts to climb, and blood stains my shirt. I cry out to the black, to the abyss that is above me. Everything has left me. Everyone is gone. I am alone.

The Artist

The horizon was lit with a fusion of delicious oranges, and cooling pinks, mellow blues, and charged purples. The great artists’ brush moved over the clouds, infusing the sky with even more colour. The clouds were almost translucent with the suns’ closing radiant beams bursting from behind them. The colours were deepening, the sky growing darker with the days’ closing beauty. The artist smiled knowing that the beauty of the day could also be found in the night. He let the colours run off behind the water, and waited for the last drop of pink, orange and blue to melt into the ocean. The moment the last hint of pink disappeared, the artist picked up his brush again. Deep saturated blues, mixed with hints of sultry greens now lit the horizon. The warm brilliance of the sun was replaced by the cooling pleasure of the full moon. Slowly, the artist dipped his brush in the lovely silver that would mark the sky with little beacons. He slowly marked the sky with tiny little dots of silver. He sat back and looked at the canvas. He drew midnight waves into the ocean, and he made the palm trees sway with a gentle tropical breeze. He increased the brilliance of the moon and the delicate white flowers opened under the light. The smell was intoxicating, a fusion blend of vanilla and plumeria. The artist surveyed the scene and smiled, pleased at the work that he had accomplished. The palm trees continued to sway, and the artist dipped his brush, preparing for the sun to rise again. The artist moved his brush with deliberation, pushing the dark colours off the edge of the canvas. Subtle pinks highlighted the water, the deep orange sun rising at a gloriously steady pace, the pink hues becoming lighter and lighter. The artist moved his brush onto the canvas again, painting clouds that carried a light rain. The sun was unhindered by the clouds, and continued to shine, the artist merely smiled and let his brush paint the drops with purpose throughout the sky. The sun and the rain made a glorious sun shower, and the artist decided the sky needed one more touch. He dipped his brush in the paint and slowly painted an arc. A myriad of colours met in the sky to make a dazzling rainbow. He sat back and surveyed his work. Bubbling laughter of great joy tumbled from his lips. He smiled and cleaned off his brush, awaiting the sunset.