SONDER : Prologue

0.1 : ALPHA - AZRAEL, Leader of Fallen Souls

Azrael did not know his world was sun-less until he fell. His entire life he lived on that disk, breathing that air, thick with dirt and smog. How could he have known what the sky looked like when he had never seen it? His people didn't have a word for, 'sky,' or 'sun,' or even, 'mother'. These things weren't real in this world.

Azrael did not know the extent of suffering his people endured until he fell. He did not know what he never knew, of course, but the horror of realization waited for him all the same. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had listened: there were warnings, after all.

But he didn't know there was something he was supposed to be listening to. When the Next Arariel went missing, he should have started listening. And when the Next Arariel returned, changed, haunted, it was like Azrael was deaf.

So when he fell, he fell hard. Probably harder than the Next Arariel had.

The fall killed him. If it hadn't, Azrael would have returned to save his people. If he had survived that fall, he would have screamed until they had no choice but to listen. He would have dragged them down, one by one, and changed them all, in the same way that the Next Arariel had, in the same, painful way that he had.

He would have opened their eyes to the truth and revealed the deceit their world was built on. The real Azrael would never have left them behind to suffer.

But the fall did kill him.

Why else did he run?
~*~*~

It had to be all of them, or none of them. Azrael dodged the hand reaching for his sleeve, lunging across the line of fire. He zigged and zagged across the gap and slid in the dirt to the other side.

"You're going to get us all killed!" He ignored the plea. They didn't understand. They all had to get home, or die out here. They couldn't be taken.

Amid the bullets, arrows, and flashing blades locked in combat, Azrael only had eyes for the sunless sky. She was hidden behind clouds, the heavens in turmoil. A warning. His gut clenched.

His own metal flashed, descending into a shoulder. His second blade arced his silver bite into another, then a swift, successive third. There was no challenge, not for him. The excitement rose in his blood. As he ran across a second line of fire, for a moment, he felt nothing but life as he became the harbinger of death. It was easy for Azrael to be brave, but it wasn't bravery he felt: it was invincibility.

But the same couldn't be said for his men. For them, he was terrified. They could never comprehend his fear, his fervour to bring them home. Why he must bring them home. If he couldn't, they would know his world, the one without the sun. He envied them their blindness.

Another zig-zag maneuver and he rolled next to one of his stranded soldiers hiding behind a crude blockade. The soldier yanked his stiffened leg out of the way of the man-missile at the last second, "watch it! Clumsy piece of lunacy!"

Swears followed as Azrael came to a stop, grasping his comrade's knee. "You nag like my mother," he grumbled, fingers rough as he turned Mikey's leg.

"Sod off! You should be back with the others-"

"It's just an arrowhead. To the knee," he smirked. "Here-"

"Don't you d-" Mikey screamed as Azrael tore it free, ripping a strip from his own shirt to bandage the wound tightly, fingers quick and practiced.

As Mikey groaned, Azrael hauled him up, his voice softening, "let's get you outta here."

"Bloody slave driver! Can you give me a minute?"

Azrael ignored Mikey's complaints, watching the other side of the field for his window of opportunity. If he timed it right, he'd get them to safety in one shot. He had to, Mikey was his friend. It was all of them, or none of them.

He bolted, pulling Mikey along with him as quickly as he could make him limp. Mikey yelped when his ankle twisted but they couldn't stop. They'd miss the window. On the other side his soldiers started yelling orders to cover their commander.

Suddenly he dropped his friend, then he heard the shot. "Az!" His ears rang and his head reeled, but he didn't have time to stop. "Az, leave me and run!" He grasped for Mikey, but his hand didn't respond. He heard another shot and ducked. He grit his teeth so hard they gnashed.

Then he saw it: a charging mass of fur and teeth and claws. Some kind of creature roared so loud he thought the ground had trembled, then it launched.

The world slowed, his heart beating in his ears. Seconds were an eternity as he snatched up his friend with his other arm, hauling him up and he ran as fast as he could. But he wasn't fast enough: he shoved Mikey as hard as he could out of the way.

Azrael went flying, hitting the ground and sliding several feet. His head bounced on the turf like a football, his ears rang. And he screamed as nothing but blinding pain seared across his mind.

His chest was heavy and he opened his eyes, staring up into that thing's snarling maw. He froze as the beast's lips dripped with blood, its claws digging into his chest to keep him pinned. It snarled and for a heartbeat Azrael could do nothing, comprehend nothing. Too late he reached up to push: it reared back but he managed to stop it from reaching his throat. Instead the creature stole a chunk of flesh from his wounded shoulder. Something animalistic flared in his veins as he roared, bucking the beast and rolling it off, scrambling to his feet as his arm sagged limp and lifeless.

He took two halting steps, then the sudden blood loss caught up to him faster than the creature could and he poured into the dirt, head spinning, pinpricks crowding his vision. He tried to push himself up, refusing to look at his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the pain. He had to stay conscious. His body was giving up. But he couldn't.

He had one more man to bring home, Luke.

His ears rang, and he wondered dimly if this time he had gone too far. Maybe, he wondered, this time he wouldn't make it. His allies were close, and all he needed now was to crawl in the dirt to the crude barricade, the one he had almost made it to with Mikey. He lifted his head, relieved, when he saw they had reached Mikey and were dragging him to safety, tucking his feet into their trench as the man screamed to leave him and get Azrael instead.

What a stupid demand. Who did Azrael have to go back to?

"Az? Az! Quick, here!" Hands tugged at him. He couldn't think hard enough to identify whose hands they were. Darkness threatened his sight. The beast howled and he shivered, head down. "Hey, stay with me! I got you!"

He felt himself pitch forward into the dirt again. He heard the loading of a revolver.

He smelt the sweetness of the earth, then. It had rained recently, and he always loved that smell, a smell you could only find in this world. He buried his nose deeper, his breathing steady now as he felt tired. So tired. He smiled, remembering the children playing in the rain just the other day. Tiny Jophiel, plucking up worms, chasing after his friends as they ran from the bugs. Azrael closed his eyes so he could see them better. Raffie, making mud pies as his mother tried to rush him back inside to not catch cold. Then Lulubell dumping a full pail of rainwater over her daddy's head as Luke pretended to melt.

Luke.

Azrael lifted his head, his vision splitting. Three Lukes faced off against the beast that had come back for him. The beast was huge, and angry, and Luke was limping.

Azrael tried to crawl to Luke. He had to do something. He had to get up. He fell flat again. Everything went dark.

The cost of bravery would be paid by Luke's baby girl.