In which angels and humans enter into battle
From a series of stories that I will never finish
Shaking, the bloodied being held their hands out carefully to the mangled and distorted vines creeping their way.
“Please,” they said with a disembodied voice, “Please, I mean no harm – you must let me in.”
In the distance, there is the piecing blap of gunfire and whistles of arrows spinning through the air.
“Please,” the being pleads, “Please, they are gaining on me. On us. Please, you must help – “
There is a slide of extra power there in his voice now, and a ripple in the air surrounding the being now. For a moment there is an image of a crooked crown and a broken sceptre surrounded by red tinged gold.
In response to this image, the mangled and distorted edge of the garden then rises up and shoots past the injured angel.
There is the familiar muffled punches of sharp objects piercing through flesh, and the angel falls onto the ground. Exhausted, they project into the air, “They are coming. We will not hold for much longer.”
Unperturbed, the vines draw in their thorns and gently wrap themselves around the exhausted being on the ground.
“Soon, soon, soon,” sings the young children with Angel’s wings and halos of gold.
“Welcome back!” says one of the elder children serenely, “It is good that you are still with us. The more hands, the better.”
“The Garden,” rasps the Principality as they reach up to clutch at the hand of one of the small children.
“Safe,” whispers the Dominion who slides a calming hand over their charge’s head, “For now. Our Blessed Garden is not yet overrun.”
“And yet we are trapped,” whispers the Principality, “We have no where to go if the Garden dies.”
The Dominion’s light flickers slightly in mild distress, “Do not despair. They have not broken in yet.”
” – But the others – ” The angel starts, and the Dominion’s flicker blue in true sadness this time.
“I cannot speak for them, young one – “
“But Those Who Were Lost are dying. Cousin, please. The guns are too much for us. They seem to be weighted with something and those who are hit – “
A more powerful presence slips over them almost unnoticed, and the Principality slips into unconciousness. Even the Dominion nearly keels over with the exhausted emotion that washes over them.
“We will have to leave this place eventually, kind Dominion,” says the Cherubim, “Those Who Were Lost can only fight for so long and the Powers are getting restless.”
“I – I understand, venerable Cherabim.”
“And you are forgiven, Kind Dominion. Now come. Let us take this Principality somewhere to rest.”
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