Incarnation | Wandering Stars Volume One

Chapter 2

OUTSIDE LAENINGAR

THE BORDERLANDS OF THE ETERNAL REALM

A luminescent trail of blood meandered along the soil. Its path was erratic, disturbed occasionally by footprints on one side and lateral scuff marks on the other. Sariel tried his best to deny the fact that somewhere, on the other end of the glowing line of evidence they were leaving behind, the demonic hordes were tracking them. It would hardly be a difficult task.

The liquid light that coursed through angelic veins would have been lost against the radiant backdrop of their own territory. But they were now behind enemy lines, and the dark, barren soil of this place only made their presence blatantly obvious.

"Come on," Sariel said, bearing almost all of Amthardel's weight.

The Iryllur was looking duller by the second. His legs were covered in his own blood, spilling freely from the gash on the left side of his abdomen.

They both knew it was fatal, but Sariel didn't want Amthardel dying in a place like this. As he hefted the soldier across the rough soil, he looked down into the valley to the north, seeking solace in the iridescent forest now less than a mile away.

"It's beautiful. You'll see," he assured his friend.

Painful seconds lengthened into excruciating minutes while the two soldiers hobbled across the land. In this Eternal Realm, where even light and sound were immortal and the passage of time was irrelevant, Sariel was oddly aware of every moment. It truly felt like an eternity before they crossed the line that separated the territory of the Holy from the Unholy. Finally leaving behind the desolate, shadowy realm of the demons, the two Iryllurym descended into the protection of the towering trees.

~

Thick grasses grew tall around the water that roamed peacefully through the flat lands below, fed by an underground spring. From the rich soil, the surrounding trees grew massive, like giant sentinels keeping watch over the glen. Their leaves danced in the breeze, the shimmering outlines scattering a multitude of green hues in every direction. In concert with this rhythmic motion were the lingering echoes of songs that seemed intertwined with the very spirit of this sacred place. As the gentle passage of air rippled the surface of the lake, melodies were stirred up and tossed along the glassy swells, colliding with harmonies that had been lying dormant for years.

But all of this, Sariel had seen countless times before. Now, in the last moments of Amthardel's life, the only thing he noticed was the distant look in the eyes of the Iryllur sitting next to him.

"You were right," Amthardel said. "This is a good place to die."

Sariel clenched his fists, but kept his eyes fixed on the face of his soldier.

Amthardel took a deep breath, then winced. "Don't let them win," he said, turning his head. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to brighten with clarity and that faraway look disappeared.

Sariel wanted to say something. But words were insufficient. Instead, he closed his mouth and nodded—a silent promise. Then, they both turned and looked out over the waters of Laeningar, the Valley of Healing.