The Fine Line of Heaven and Hell

A/N: Okay, I decided to do one final chapter/extra/thing. This one is about Brethmel and Cerelia, but…..Well, I hope it will at least clear away some confusion that I caused. (I forgot that I hadn’t said anything much about their past, so…I’m SORRY!) Thanks for bringing it to my attention, SilkenPetal.


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Heaven. It was the place the humans believed angels came from. If they knew that angels were forbidden to leave their sanctuaries, would they be so revered? Would the humes be so ready to worship them as though they were pure beings, when they were little more than prisoners? Outside the gates of the Ardent Sanctuary, one could stand in the ruins of a once magnificent metropolis and gaze into a Hell that few others had to go through. Maybe that thought was how it all started.

Angels were a powerful race. Some held abilities that no demon could ever hope to acquire, yet still, they lost the war. After the demons captured the elder council, most of the angels gave in along with their leaders. And just like that, the struggle ended. He’d been there; he’d seen the shaking man, staring at the blood pooling from his stomach as he signed away his people. That one moment is what made him detest angels. If their beloved leader would resign them to the fate they held now just for another chance at life, he held no pity for such cowardice. The Commander would have just smirked and taken his death like a man.

He thought that way for so long after the war, that he had forgotten what his ideals had been before it. So when he stumbled upon an angel wandering from the sanctuary without a statement, he didn’t hesitate to attack. The woman’s hair was a long and silky, chestnut brown that sparkled in the whittling daylight the evening they met. She wasn’t very strong, in fact, little more than average. Naturally, it didn’t take long until she fell to her knees, chin tilted up to reveal her throat, the dagger he held poised at that lovely neck barely digging into the skin. Those cerulean eyes sucked him in like a black hole, pout lips moving as she spoke words that halted his movements. “Go ahead. My people have betrayed me; I’ve nothing else to look towards.”

Her eyes were like blue diamonds that reflected the color of the sea. There was such honesty in that woman’s eyes that even the great General Brethmel’s hand hesitated in it’s movements. When he asked the ethereal woman if she was running away from life, or facing death readily, she smiled at him, pout red lips drawing his gaze as she spoke. “Neither. I only wait for what comes next.” It made him question what he, himself was doing with his life, even as his sanity slowly began to fade like so many of his ancestors. One of his forebears even started drinking the blood of others, his mind crashed so completely. What came next for him?

Without even realizing it, the dagger found itself back in the small sheath at his side, abandoned. Brown hair fell like sheer fabric when the angelic woman tilted her head. “Well, why don’t we find out what does?” he said, a smile he wasn’t accustomed to any longer quirking his lips. The emotion was slow to approach her features. First a hesitant, lingering look at his face, her eyes skimming him as though she were reading him before responding. Next came a vague surprise, her thin brows arching before a cautious sense of curiosity crept upon her visage He was fascinated by the way those ethereal facial features moved, swimming with feelings, even as she stood there motionless.

In her eyes, he could see her assessing her situation, weighing out the consequences of her actions before she made them, then seemingly making a decision. Relatively small white wings stood passively behind her, as if only an accessory adding to her unnatural beauty. “I have nothing to lose,” those pout lips moved as she spoke, long dark lashes hovering over cerulean orbs. To him, it was as if they’d spoken some silent contract, signed in the breeze that shifted the brown hair cascading down one shoulder.

When he took her to his home, not even bothering to sign the book that listed wandering angels found outside of their homes. For some reason, the only thing on his mind was keeping her from the view of the other demons. To his shock, she said nothing, only following behind him as though she trusted him explicitly. “I could be just taking you to my home to kill you in private. Isn’t that losing something? Or I could rape you. Aren’t you worried?” He mocked her with his questions; why were angels so ridiculously weak?

“If that’s what you want, you’ll take it whether I like it or not, right? It doesn’t matter if it’s here or there, does it?” Something, he wasn’t sure what, about that statement made him slow down, just a little. She stood there, stone-faced yet bleeding emotions, sparkling blue eyes glittering in the dusk’s fading light. Her skin was pale, nearly glowing as the moon began to rise, the sun’s diminishing light leaving an orange tint to it. It was like she was a goddess, radiant and lustrous, standing before him as though she were offering herself up as a gift. He didn’t even know her, yet he wanted to kiss her, to hold her, make her his and his alone. Was this one of her angelic powers?

He should have known then that it was a mistake. Of course, being the uncalculating man he was, he’d gone on with it, taking her into his house, tending to her in the hopes that maybe she’d feel something for him. Was it really so immature to believe? Hadn’t better men fallen to worse? After nearly a year, he’d felt the bond of mates begin to tingle at the back of his mind. It was a tentative brush of his consciousness, something angels were known to do as a way of asking for permission. It had excited him more than he’d ever admit, and at that point, he hadn’t thought of anything but her. He should’ve known better.

Their romance was like that of a fairy-tale, so he supposed it really didn’t seem as real as it should have. Did he love her? He’d never be able to tell for certain, but he had thought maybe he had. Their first time making love was passionate and slow. He had made sure to take every detail in. Little did he know that he would wish he hadn’t. Even now, that night haunted his dreams, slicing at his mind like a well-sharpened blade. Until the day of his death, he would remember silky brown hair and swollen red lips, a flushed face and a frail frame, white wings spanned beneath them like a feathery cloud. How would he have known that she would tear his sanity apart before it’s time?

Then came the child. A beautiful little girl, tiny little wings protruding from her back in the first two months of her life. After that, they melded into her little shoulder blades, a characteristic he found rather amusing. Every demon embraced their powers at a young age before they vanished and returned to them later. Angels didn’t have such a trait, but little Shuey had had it. Power seemed to radiate from her, but nothing around her was destroyed or mishandled in any way as was normal for children. The strength seemed to simply hover around her, as if she’d already learned how to control it without even trying. Who knew, maybe she had. Cerelia had told him that she would truly be a gift to the world, and he’d had to agree. Their childe was certainly something special.

By that time, he could feel his sanity waning with each passing day. It was time for him to find an heir, but he had no one. That little girl, with his hair and her mother’s smile, was the only one who could save him from a miserable fate. He planned to train her, to make sure that she was strong enough to be Commander one day. If she became so powerful, she might just be able to take his life before his mind slipped from him completely. That had been his intention. When he told his lover of his plans, she didn’t take it so well. In the depth of the night, she stole the child away, disappearing into the darkness for a little over a decade. He’d known she left, but part of him didn’t want to, so he let them go. Maybe that had been a mistake, too, but his heart had taken over his rationality. He learned a lot from that heart-rending incident.

She had taken away his only hope at peace, and it wounded him in ways he’d never experienced before. Had she pilfered the child in order to protect her, or was her true plot to destroy him? Would he ever really know? He supposed that was a major chip off of his already crumbling reason. He’d gone for his dagger, but it had vanished as well. It was that morning that he vowed to never let his heart get in the way again. He sought to find the illusive woman, but could not for many years. Instead he searched for his only savior, Shuey. He asked everyone, felt around for her power, and found nothing. The wretched angel had chosen the perfect opportunity to steal the girl. Her suffocating strength had all but dispersed, leaving behind nothing to lead him to her.

Cerelia would not kill him. She was too weak, in both body and mind. The Halfling was his only hope.

He’d heard a rumor that a beautiful angel had begun bartending at the inn of one of his Lieutenants, so he’d gone to see for himself. The auburn hair draped over what he imagined to be a golden eye matching his own, the pale skin, and pout lips assured him that he’d found the child he’d been looking for, but he couldn’t quiet be sure. That was until he’d found his dagger strapped tightly to her wrist. When he’d seen it, anger had surged through him, and he’d acted rashly, like a starving wolf that found an injured rabbit. He examined the situation a bit closer, surprised to see that the demon Lieutenant seemed to know of the girl’s heritage. They often spoke lowly to each other when they thought no one was listening, the raven-haired man leaning close to her as though he were drawn.

He could sense her power beginning to gather around her; she was certainly his, and about to go through Shift. Now would be his chance at death, possibly his only one.

At certain times, he hated himself for pining to end his life so desperately, but he didn’t want to lose himself completely. Would Shuey one day lose herself to her powers? Would they eat away at her mind, or would her mother’s powers stop it from happening? He wished no fate such as his for his only child. Truly, she was the only thing he had. So he began to form a plan to protect her as well as achieve his demise. Even if it meant the Halfling had to hate him, he would do it because it was necessary. He believed that.

He’d hunted down Cerelia, finding her by a stroke of luck thanks to a traitorous demon who sought power. The wretch had tried to claim his heir, which enraged him to an extreme degree. He’d killed him brutally, taking vengeance on a crime he almost committed. He’d almost taken away Shuey’s first kill, something precious to him. He wanted to be that for her. The closer the first kill was in relation, the easier the power was to control. It wouldn’t rattle her mind so harshly if it was him. Only benefits came from his death being Shuey’s first.

After that, Cerelia’s torture had begun. Beautiful white wings were torn from that frail body, pinned to the wall as the angel cried out in misery. He’d been sure Shuey would find them. It would hurt her, but at least the soft, angelic powers would counter his own to some degree. In theory, at least, but that was all he could offer her. He’d taken his mate away after that, being sure to leave before their gift awoke. He’d spent nearly two weeks with her back at his home, where he’d taken her in.

She acted as though nothing happened at first, infuriating him beyond rationality. It was as though twenty years hadn’t passed and she was entering their home for the first time. Those pout lips had offered one devastating comment to him, pushing him passed his self-sympathy and causing his heart to close off entirely. She’d asked if she could see her home one more time. The home that she didn’t care to leave so long ago to be with him, regardless of the fact that he had initially planned to kill her. So he’d taken her there, watching her suffer as her own kind began to fight for her, only to fall at her feet as he took away their lives. It was only a great irony that her own people shot her down. The ones she’d told him betrayed her. Oh, what a leader of little value.

Something thrumming in the air made him feel as though the end was close by, his dwindling judgment making him wonder if this was truly so. That was the first time Shuey had beaten him, and though he’d lost his mate, his pride had swollen immensely by the time his sight faded. He spent some time in a small camp of demonic independents after that. They only kept him imprisoned for a few days, but he’d decided to stick around, even if they didn’t like it. He had learned a thing or two from the dirty, hot camp. During his stay there, his mind almost seemed at ease, but he overstayed his welcome and was sent away. If he were an honest man, he would have realized he had no welcome to begin with there.

His heart still ached for the woman whose blood stained his hands, and the daughter that would never care for him, but in the end, it was all for the best, right? How could he be happy when he lost his mind to a degree in which he killed them both out of unfounded rage? His abilities might go berserk and attack the two themselves. He didn’t wish to take that kind of chance. Cerelia had betrayed him by hiding away his precious gift of death. He had killed her to atone for her crimes against him, but he had hoped he wouldn’t have to. Alas, things never went the way one planned.

Finally, finally, the day came when Shuey waited for him. She had been working so hard, even leaving her lover behind to focus solely on defeating him. He would be lying to say he wasn’t proud of the young woman who stood before him, a strong aggression about her that made him forget his regrets. Those eyes of hers had told him that all his hard work had not been in vain. It was both his saddest and happiest day. He’d wished upon wishes that he’d been able to see her grow up, but the wretch had hidden her away.

Her speed and knowledge in battle was thrilling, but he’d made the mistake of watching her train, learning all of her strengths and weaknesses. His mind consumed him as his body fought, and he feared that he would kill her at one point. Her death for him was creative and quick, a bullet to the heart surprising him at the very end. She always seemed to remember the little things. He wasn’t sure what kind of emotion had filled him upon realizing his death, perhaps a strange mixture of fear, gratitude, and pride. In the end, he had come to one last realization.

Cerelia had been a gift to him. Shuey had been his savior.


_Finite_

A/N: I don’t know why, but that kind of made me a little sad to write. It shouldn’t have, since it’s not even real, but it did. *pout* I don’t know if anyone noticed, but this little extra was actually written in a different style. ^.^ I borrowed it from a friend of mine who writes more than I do. He’s really good, but I don’t ever remember the link to his site. I remember parts of mine (the adult-fanfiction.org part), but that’s it. I click on author’s panel and go from there, so that’s all I really know about. *laughs* Well, this marks the end of my story, and though I’m sad it’s the very end, I’m also somewhat happy. I really liked this chapter, it kind of settles things for me a little. The ending chapter didn’t quite seem like the END END, but this one makes it feel finalized. As soon as I finish working on the first chapters, I’m going to post two stories. They’re probably going to be bi-weekly posts, but one will be posted each week. I’ve decided on The Thing About Nekos and The Veteran to work on. If you want to read more of my works (no obligations, I understand that some stories are just not some peoples’ thing), feel free to check them out.


SilkenPetal: Thank you for reminding me of what was missing. I’ve decided to start writing down a checklist for future stories. I’d have to say that this little chapter was partially inspired by you. Probably about half. I hope that’s not more offending than complimenting. ^.^ Thanks for being such an honest reader, telling me what you think could be better instead of just telling me what you liked.

Snidne: ^.^ You’ve been my hero for this story, Snidne. When I didn’t feel like writing, I’d skim reviews and always found myself pausing at the funnier ones, putting me in higher spirits. I’ve spent loads of time just thinking about what you’ve got to say, and it gives me something to work on. It always seems to feel less impatient with myself when I didn’t get a chapter up when I wanted it to be up. Sometimes I’d think over something you’d said and it relaxes me a little, allowing me to enjoy myself a bit more. So thanks. I’m glad you decided that you had to review my little story. I’m going to miss your damning compliments.

Alicat: Thanks for being my first reviewer. You gave me the little boost of confidence I needed to keep on writing this monster and be satisfied enough with it to not delete it. ^.^ I’d hug you if I liked hugs. I know it seems like I’m thanking you for nothing, considering your first review said little, but it did make me feel a bit more comfortable with showing my work to other people.

Luinil: I’m reserving a special thanks to you (that doesn’t mean you have to be mega-enthusiastic about it). It was nice to meet you through this story, and I’m glad we can continue to speak through AIM. Your energy is both encouraging and terrifying, but I’m glad someone with so much bounce has taken time to talk with me about this or that. So thank you for that, too.

Now that I’ve thanked everyone, and I feel weird that it’s seriously ending here…. I hope at least one person will read another one of my stories, just so that I can see your reviews again. ^.^ I’m glad you enjoyed the time you took to read my story.