Angelic - Part XIII [Patron-Guided] (Final) (Patreon)

Wind storms ravage the countryside, long after the clash of titans had ended. Panic flows through the roads like rainwater through a gutter. Emergency services trudge through traffic, hopelessly addressing fields of injuries and damages caused by the splinters of Cyth and Oriphi’s battle. It would take years for some communities to recover, if they could at all. Helicopters survey sweeps of land in despair, their lights shining through dust clouds and onto craters of destruction. Mere footsteps had devoured adjacent cities, but the cult-controlled urban sprawl yet stood -- frail and falling apart, locked-down in horror, but still it stood.

As did the celestial looming ahead. The weight of Cyth’s feet alone imposed upon the people. Toes taller than highrises guarded the south exits of town, creating jams in escape routes; spontaneous riots were had at some toes, drivers pitifully striking the skin with whatever they could in the bleak hope they might encourage it to curl aside. Cyth would not budge, not while they determined the fate of these people. They are as cold as a mountain peak while casting their judgement, weighing the value of punishment versus forgiveness.

But the answer was clear, just as it had been from the start. Cyth only wished they had resolved themself to this earlier; so much could have been avoided, but if action was delayed again, there would be yet more to follow. A flicker of regret twinges within Cyth -- they know many lives below are innocent, uncorrupted -- but the cult and its influence was to be weeded out, cut from the earth so that it could not spread. Whether these humans realize it or not, they tell themself, this is all for the better of humanity…

Cyth’s right foot hovers into the air, abandoning the earth except for what is stuck to the sole. Gravel, metal, and entire trees rain down from the loosened creases as the foot claims the skyline. All its districts, all its life; the city is hidden under their foot, already dwindled to just a memory. Panic peaks in the shadowed streets as citizens struggle to grasp their ultimate doom, many failing to comprehend how impossible it was to escape. Remnants of military stations unleash anything they have at the flat target up above, but no firepower is enough to trigger even a flinch or tickle. They could not stop Cyth now, just as they could not stop them when only a fraction of their current height.

The foot’s descent stirs an unsettling rumble. Its fall is audible, the wind splitting apart as it falls effortlessly from where it had been. The smoke of burning fires is pushed down by the sole, conjuring a black cloud that further darkens the area. Screams rise from all over, mobs forfeit themselves to cowering where they stand, wistful prayers are muttered as final farewells, and loved ones stay united in this diminishing second of life. The crack of skyscrapers spikes the volume of horrified shrieks, the pop and rupture of the rest of the skyline follows, and debris scatters through the city like a flood. All manner of noise competes in a brutal cacophony, until--

Crunch… The chaos is muffled, submerged under a powerful quake that rattles the earth. The rip and tear of explosions, the whine of metal bending, the cries of powerless citizens -- all ends under one single step, of which Cyth grants softly. They place their foot onto the city without the speed of a stomp; such a strike was unnecessary. But their foot twists into the earth, swirling the mass of land into a flat spiral of grinded remains, snuffing out any possibility of leftover cultist influence. As they did so, they pinged the crater once called a city, searching for both life and cultist power, but nothing was detected. The ground was an absolute wasteland devoid of virtually all life.

“It may take years or decades for these damages to be undone,” Cyth explains. Their voice rattles the country, heard in the furthest corners as a vague, distressing bass. “In that time, humanity should reflect upon their loyalty, and disperse the manipulation of devils from their land.”

Cyth looks to the sky. Amana’s comet eyes remain fixed in a glare towards earth. Cyth raises their arms, expelling the rush of magic that their master had imbued them with. The steam-like energy floats to the clouds, taking the shape of another portal. Their time on earth was over now that their mission was complete, and so they were to return to Heaven, into the welcoming arms of Amana. Cyth’s body levitates into the air, regardless of their obscene mass, and is drawn into the portal. They disappear, as does the circle and the all-seeing goddess in space; earth is finally freed of celestial pressure.

Just as they had risen into the portal, so too did Cyth rise from its exit. They had returned to Heaven, but what they found was not their destination. An empty plain contains them, stretching out in all directions up to rounded edges. The confusion afflicting Cyth is quickly dismissed and replaced with bewonderment. This was the goddess’s palm, a place only those summoned to could stand. Cyth is swift to bow, turning to face Amana and her humbling glory, a being so gargantuan that she conquers the sky of lights while leisurely seated within a dimensional cosmos.

“My angel Cyth,” Amana sighs. Her voice is melodic and pure, a grace to be heard despite her unbelievable size. “You were directed to earth in order to research the possibility of cultist growth.”

Cyth hesitates to reply. “Indeed, my goddess, and I determined that the city was overrun by a devil in disguise. In your name and might, I enacted purification onto the land.”

“In my name and might, you have wrought ruin and seeded disdain for Heaven’s rule.” Amana’s voice pushes Cyth with a blunt strike. Cyth raises their head from its bow, ambushed by this judgement. “Your methods have collapsed the loyalty of millions under my domain. Many of those lost will now turn to Hell for refuge. Your mistakes resulted in near-catastrophe, and only with my intervention were you saved.”

Cyth stutters, “I-I… thank you, my goddess. W-Without you, that battle may have grown worse, f-for our cause. But... “ They wince, realizing they have little to offer, except for just a little devil. They look to their hand, a finger -- at its end is the bubble containing Oriphi, slumped into a round corner of her prison. Cyth looks back to Amana, “But I have brought--”

“--shame. You have brought shame to all angels.” Amana interrupts, her immensity and rank so overwhelming that she need not raise her volume. “The future ahead on earth now foresees greater friction between humans and my agents. There will be less prayers to draw magic from, increased resistance to the work of angels, and clashes between worshippers will become more common. This disorder you have caused cannot be without punishment, Cyth.”

Cyth stands, but their legs quiver. “M-My goddess… I-I will accept any punishment,” they meekly submit, “b-but I beg for mercy… I acted only in your interests. My initiative was misaimed, but it was genuine. I only sought to empower Heaven’s rule!” But these excuses unphased the peerless ruler. Amana remained cold and distant, her mind already settled on a decision. Cyth stammered to create an argument, but everything felt like a dry excuse -- except, they remembered, one interaction. The interloper, so Oriphi had called them. Their involvement with the events on earth were worthy of concern, and perhaps Cyth’s window of being spared. “My goddess--”

“You will be banished from my realm,” Amana decides. Cyth gasps and their eyes widen in horror, but no expression can move Amana. Her fingers curl towards her palm, surrounding Cyth with tree-like limbs that cage them into the goddess’s grip. “You will be stripped of your holy connection. Your immortality will be voided. You will be unable to communicate with or enter Heaven. You will no longer be my angel -- you shall be sentenced to live among humanity, or die on their world.”

“Th-There is more you fail to understand, Amana!” Cyth spits. They take into a sprint towards the goddess’s arm, hoping to escape the swallowing clutches. “You must listen to me! An interloper i-is among the humans, sided with neither Heaven nor Hell! They pose a threat to our system!”

But Amana would spare nothing. Her hand closes into a fist, sealing Cyth into a magical hold. Her grip tightens, and when the fingers unfold, only a gold dust remains, whipped away by celestial wind. The angel was no more, gone without a scream or shout, their mystical abilities filtered from their form. Cyth’s banishment is conclusive, and Amana quietly despairs over this loss.

---

The earth, the year 2016. The morning sun had not yet surpassed the horizon, leaving life in the Netherlands tranquil and low. A fog drifts through the streets, hiding all but one coffee shop. Its lights make it a beacon, the only business that would be open so early. Even at this hour, it was unlikely to see any customers, but one had waited for them outside their doors. A lone person garbed in a heavy coat, their face partially veiled by a tall collar and long, raven hair.

Their order still steams as it's taken to their booth by a server. The person nods and slides the coffee closer, but does not drink. Their eyes, hidden by aviators, scan the window and the river outside. The rest of the city on the other side remains still as ice, waiting to be shaken from their perch.

A tiny figure only inches tall crawls up the coffee cup, her legs kicking in an attempt to peer over the lip. “Ugh…! Errgh!” she grunts in her efforts, but she fails to reach the drink. Instead, her flailing causes the cup to sway, and a splash of coffee spills over one side as she falls from its edge. The tiny woman, dressed in business attire, hits the table hard with her rear.

“You’re going to make a mess doing that,” Cyth sighs, putting her hand around the cup to balance it. “Besides, it must be too hot to even enjoy. It’s still steaming.”

“I’m a devil, didja forget?” Oriphi snidely replies, rolled onto her back in defeat. “I don’t burn. We both lost out magic, but only one of us lost their celestial blood, remember?”

“Thank you for the reminder. In that case…” Cyth plucks Oriphi off the table by a leg, callously dangling her over the cup before dropping her in. Oriphi squeals as she’s released, but the coffee washes away her complaints, turning them into bubbles. Her head whips up when she resurfaces soon after, clearly unaffected by the temperature, but obviously bothered by being soaked. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“Cunt.” Oriphi glares at her vague reflection in the coffee, then lowers her head to drink from it. Its flavor is bold and bitter, which Oriphi disapproves of. “I miss my soy lattes,” she reminisces aloud, supporting herself at the cup’s lip. “I used to have one delivered to my desk, everyday. A simple pleasure to get my day started. Cue one obnoxious angel, and…”

Cyth dismisses her with a push from her finger, dislodging her off the lip and into the pool once more. They had dwelled well enough on their history, and had heard Oriphi’s take on the matter more than once over the past three months. Banishment was cruel and boring, but whether Oriphi’s addition made it better or worse, Cyth had yet to conclude. In any case, the devil was a necessary component, regardless of how she complained or how tiny Amana’s punishment had left her. In some regards, having a tiny devil to poke and prod kept Cyth’s angelic sanity stable -- on the other hand, Oriphi was still immortal by blood, and so killing her when she got too annoying was impossible, and so every complaint had to be endured.

But that was what drove Cyth to this city, found in the Netherland’s center. Magic and blood may have been stricken from them, but Cyth yet retained their memories, their knowledge. Though they walked on the same earth as humans and obeyed the same laws as humans, Cyth knew they were a holy agent. That was their truth, and they held onto that belief, willing to do what was necessary to reclaim it. Amana, they schemed, would be proven wrong for banishing them. They would return to Heaven without the goddess’s connection, without prayers or reality-bending powers. They wanted to return home, where they belong.

Enough time had passed, and Cyth stands from the booth. They whisk the coffee cup with them, bringing Oriphi along inside. The devil splashes from side to side, but they hardly throw a complaint about it. She knows of Cyth’s goals and what lies ahead. Their opportunity has come, and it was time to move forward, to take the first leap in regaining their celestial rights.

Cyth exits the shop and into the fog. As they cross a bridge over the river, a spark of light breaks up the morning sky. Above the sunrise, overlooking a wide stretch of the city, is a celestial portal. While homes flare up in confusion and concern, Cyth continues confidently. “Right on schedule…”