The Firelands

71 - Wicked Wings

                  

13th day of the forth Month, Worth's Moon

3:00 am

Galla Woods

He thought the memories were over, he wanted them to be over but when he blinked, he was somewhere else, outside one of the smaller throne rooms where The King took private meetings. In front of him, stood his childhood self, peering through a crack in the door and suddenly Theth knew that this was just after his parents' death, not that he remembered it but he suddenly knew where he was in the timeframe of these memories, after his parents' death and after the scene he'd just witnessed.

Leaning forwards to see what the child was seeing, he peered into the throne room. The King sat upon his throne, face in his hands, elbows on his thighs and Azrael stood beside him, hands clamped down on one of the throne arms, stress tightening his face as he looked down at The King.

"You are asking too much of me, Azrael," The King was saying, "far too much. The Fall of my own sons, the death of my brother and his wife and now you wish me to take in Theth... Azrael, you know I can't."

"Sire, you made your choice a long time ago, it is now time to live up to those choices and face the consequences."

"But I cannot raise a child; I do not know how to raise a child."

"Father!" Azrael snapped, leaning forwards, "Learn to."

The King looked up at the eldest son then looked away.

"Sire," Azrael said softly, kneeling beside him, "Nero and Riko have Fallen, I Fall tonight. I can no longer protect Theth from The Fury, or those around him in this realm. I ask you, wipe the memories of us, make the angels forget that there were ever other sons besides Theth. Let the boy live in some sort of protection, his own wings will cause enough hindrance on his life and come the time to leave, his life will be no easier. Give him some comfort. Be a father in the place of your brother. You will never love us the way you love him."

The King's head spun around to look at Azrael and the Angel of Death raised a hand.

"I understand, Sire, I place no blame on you for that. No envy on Theth. But I ask you now, adopt that child, make him your own, and protect him until the time comes when I may do so again."

Theth leant back from the doors. He was almost surprised The King was so resistant to adopting his own nephew, in all of Theth's memories; he had been attentive to the point of almost overbearing.

He looked down at the little child in front of him. The boy turned away from the door, closing it as quietly as he could before he spread his wings and took off into the air – Theth noticed absently that he flew so well for an angel so young.

The doors to the throne room flew open seconds later, Azrael appeared, panic in his eyes as he looked around before looking up.

"Theth!" he shouted after the shrinking figure, spread his own huge black wings and taking off. "Theth!"

Theth watched them go, blinked and suddenly he was in another dream, another memory.

He was in a darkened room, the fire only partially illuminating the walls that was filled with shelves of ancient books and beautiful jewel works. Beyond the windows, darkness and stars filled the skies.

And there was a woman sat by the fire, hunched over something in her arms, her streaming blonde hair falling like a curtain around her. She was crying.