Phantom Pain (trilogy)

Ambriel

Chapter 33: Ambriel

“Come back to me, Ramiel.”

The voice was as real as if he'd been standing beside me, and I wondered if others could hear him. I was walking down a passage, alone. Behind me was the room with the cross, and the dead angels. I did not have to turn around to know.

“You do not wish to forget again, do you?” He was not chastising, only worried.

“No.” I answered aloud, as it seemed the appropriate thing to do.

The sword was in my hand, and I clutched it like a life line.

“Ambriel?” I called.

Ahead the passage way opened up, around a bend, so I could not see. Dread was all that met me, oozing from the floor, bubbling up through the cracks. I pushed the light out in front, announcing my presence to whatever lay in wait.

I had seen this cavern before. Ambriel's cage loomed in front of me, empty. Worry clawed at my insides. I hoped she was okay. Movement caught my eye, and a growl ripped from my throat. There were only two beings in the room: a demon and an angel.

The angel had blood on her face, in her blonde hair. White wings hung uselessly. The demon held an angel's sword: hers. I knew his name without having to think. This was Sonneillon, the king of hell who had laid siege to Castle Moore. He was the only one of the original five still alive. He had possessed the form of a massive man, and Ambriel's feet did not touch the ground, as he held her around the middle, sword pressed to her neck.

“Not one more step, angel.” His voice boomed out, frightening even in fear.

I didn't need to listen to this cockroach. I kept walking, a smile spreading across my face.

“Stop or she's dead.” I faltered. “This sword had the juice to kill her permanent. Trust me, I checked.”

Ambriel was dead now. There was no heartbeat, no sign of life, but I could still feel her light. She would come back, healed, wings and all. She still had a chance I did not. How was that fair? The life of one soldier could be sacrificed, to dispatch another enemy king. I twirled the sword in my hand, preparing to take another step.

“She is your brother,” said the archangel. “She has done nothing wrong. Do not go about this stupidly.”

I froze again. He was right of course. Was I really more ruthless than the one who spoke to me?

“Let her go,” I said, looking up to meet Sonneillon's eyes. “Or you will die much slower.”

He laughed. His whole body convulsed, mad, hysterical. It made me angry. He was belittling me. Did he not believe I was powerful enough? A king of hell was nothing compared to even Penemue, and I had dispatched Raphael. He should have been quivering in fear before me.

I was about to disregard the archangel's words, and slash the insolent demon to bits, when he got a hold of himself.