The Prince waits for silence. “Hear me! You who love freedom, arm yourselves. Prepare for battle.”
Pearla’s wings twitch as the Prince reaches his arms wide, his pale eyes roaming over hell’s manic hoard.
“The Sabres have been released.”
And like that, the chamber is a torrent of angry noise and skitter, of spastic movement, claws and wings and snarls. Pearla’s mind is just as chaotic.
“Calm yourselves!” the Prince cries, and silence permeates the hall once again. “This is not the first time the veil has undergone attack. You remember, yes? The Sabres have torn through it before, but we repaired the damage. We were victorious. We will be victorious again.”
The once-slow trickle of fear leaking from beneath the Prince’s wing has spread, and now a waterfall of terror pours, hiding the bottom of both wings and covering the Prince’s lower body in the black tar.
Now he looks like darkness’s prince.
“The earth is mine. My domain. My veil. Mine to control. War is upon us.”
The noise is raucous, but the anger is tinted with celebration now. Amidst the chaos, Maka draws near the throne.
“Where, Lord Prince? Where will the Sabres attack?”
A terrifying smile splits the Prince’s face. “Can you not guess?”
Maka bows his head. He can guess, it seems, but his silence is nothing but an ache in Pearla’s chest. The Prince turns his eyes to Damien.
“You have fourteen days, brother. Fourteen days to secure the boy and the girl. After that—hear me, brothers—after that, the first demon to bring either of them to Danakil will be rewarded. And you, Damien, will never again see beyond the chasm.”
“Y-Yes, Lord Prince.”
“General Maka, I am putting the Palatine under your command. Have you confidence in yourself?”
“Pride, my Prince. I will not fail.”
“With ten thousand of my finest at your command, I don’t imagine you will. A defeat of that magnitude would demand consequences of severity.”
“I will. Not. Fail.”
“That pleases me. What say you about our brother Damien and his task?”
“I say fourteen days is too long. Surely he can secure them in less time.”
The Prince shakes fear from his wings. “It will take some days before your war band is ready, General.”
But Maka’s muscled form is taut. He’s not satisfied. “And the Sabres?”
The Prince places a pale white hand on Maka’s massive black shoulder. “Their progress will be slow, friend. I know them well, and they will not risk harming the humans. We have time. But, Damien,” he says, rounding on the fallen one, “come that fourteenth day, I will send the Palatine into Stratus to destroy the work of the Sabres. And I will have my prize whether you bring it to me or not.”
“Yes, Lord Prince.”
“Make your arrangements, then. And, Damien, keep your new eyes open. I imagine our old friend Michael won’t be long.”
Damien’s wings falter. “Light is already on the move?”
The Prince shrugs. “If not, they will be soon.”
“My lord?”
The Prince’s pale eyes search the cliffs. “You are not so naïve as to believe our walls don’t have ears, are you?”
Maka and Damien turn, following the Prince’s gaze.
“If their King doesn’t tell them, their Cherub will.”
Pearla’s legs tense.
“But what does it matter?” the Prince says. “The skies over Stratus will be ravaged. The boy with hands like ours and the girl who sees will be brought to me, yes? And the veil—”
“Will be restored.” This time it’s Maka who answers.
“Good, General Maka. This matter is now in your hands. Now go.”
Pearla doesn’t need to be asked again. Up, up, up and through the rocks, through the very earth itself she flies. Toward the Commander and the only army capable of handling the deadly forces of the Palatine.
4
Brielle
When I wake Sunday morning it’s early. The sky’s still black and my sheets are drenched with sweat. I take a raspy breath, but my chest feels tight, like my ribs are closing ranks. My heart presses against them, crowded.
It’s the first nightmare I’ve had in months. The twilit morn paints smears of color on my wall. I stare at them, trying to remember the details, but everything’s fuzzy.
A girl, her clothes torn, her skin burnt.
And fear. So much fear.
Shadows walk like men across my ceiling, and a shiver runs the length of my spine. The girl wasn’t alone, but with my waking eyes I can’t recall anything more. After another minute, I roll onto my stomach and press my hands beneath my pillow.
The halo’s gone.
I reach for my side table, feeling with my fingers. I drop to the floor, my quilt tangled about my