The Guardian Angel | Marvel

Chapter 17: In the Dark of the Night

Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game. –Wicked, Defying Gravity

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I'm strangely calm as I crouch beside Thor behind a dune in the middle of the desert. The full moon provides enough light for us to see the shapes of several dozen Seraphs—maybe a hundred—closer to the mine. Despite the distance, sparks of emerald and silver and crimson magic arc around my hands and faintly reflect on the polished metal of his armor—possibly because there's so many of them, but also possibly because they're in the tunnels beneath our feet. The strange chill of magic fills the air, making goosebumps spring up on my arms, neck, and back—because my wings are so pale and would stick out in the dim light, I thought it would be best to keep them hidden for the time being.

"This is a terrible plan," Clint says from his spot on my other side.

"It's not terrible," I argue. If we were anybody else, I might agree with Clint; but after spending a few weeks with most of this team, I'm pretty sure we're crazy enough for this to work.

"Regardless, we must act soon," Thor states. "The moon has nearly reached the center of the sky."

"You've got a little less than half an hour left, actually." His voice is almost overrun with static—whether because we're in the middle of nowhere or all the magic in the air, I can't tell—but I can still make out Nathan's words as they come over the comm. "It looks like they're all out of the mine. If you're gonna try to pull off this terrible plan, I'd do it now."

You're a real comfort, brother dear. "Can you tell which ones are controlling their protection spell?" I question.

"There's six or seven of them pretty close together a little away from the others," he replies. "That's probably them."

"And the portal?"

"Pains me to say it, but Dain was right. They've got everything set up in a circle on top of that ridge just east of the mine."

"Alright," Steve stays, voice also distorted by static. "Stark, Romanoff, you have everything in place?"

"Almost there," Tony replies. "Just be ready to move."

"It'll never work," Clint repeats under his breath. I look back at the Seraphs, waiting to see how they react to the distraction Tony suggested on the flight here. They move back and forth in groups of indistinct shadows, some easier to see because of the light color of their hair or wings.

For a few moments, nothing happens.

Then dual flashes of red-gold light appear at the mine entrances to the west and south. Red-gold flames jump into the air, darting in and out of smoke and dust in a beautiful, deadly dance. They're too far away for me to feel the scorching heat they're radiating, but I know they must be indescribably hot.

Seraphs reflexively drop to the ground when they hear the blast and see the fire. They stay down for several moments before they seem to realize the threat isn't in the immediate area. A few of them rise and start barking indistinct orders, gesturing between the two pillars of smoke. The others seem to hesitate for a moment, almost like they aren't sure it's safe, but they quickly take to the sky, one half of the group going to each pillar of smoke. A little less than a third of the original group stays behind, which is more than we'd hoped for, but still a number we can work with.

"I'll be damned," Clint mutters, amazed. "That actually worked."

"Go!" I order at the same time, giving him a shove towards the protection spell. "Go, go, go!"