WARFIRE

Chapter 4

The first noise Amira heard as she slowly awakened was the sound of liquid gently sloshing. She cracked open her eyes and found herself in a river.

Only this river was dark and oily, the currents rippling over her body.

It was so polluted.

Doll heads, banana peels, cloth rags and other unnamable objects swirled in the churning brown water. She didn't even want to think about what lay at the bottom of the river.

And she was sitting right in it.

With a yell, Amira jumped up, nearly crashing her head on the bridge above her. The stench was unbelievable to her sensitive nose and she made her way up the bank, slipping and sliding on the muddy bank. When she was about five feet from the river, she stopped. What was she doing? Walking right into unknown territory?

She knew better. Quickly, she studied her surroundings. The brown river at her feet flowed down the hill she was standing on into the darkness. On her right, a stony half-collapsed bridge connected the banks, roughly about six feet apart. Tall piles of something littered the area, seeming to reach up to the dark cavernous ceiling that seemed endless. She took a closer look at the pile closest to her. Was that...garbage?

Bits of glass, cups, carton boxes, and white and black full bags sat on top of each other to form a pile at least ten meters high.  The odor was incredible, choking her lungs with its noxious smell. Yep, definitely garbage. 

In the distance, she could make out more garbage piles and blackness, a fitting scene for Hell. The shadows seemed to darken at every corner.

A shiver rolled down Amira's spine. She smoothed her hand over her body, praying she'd feel the sharp tip of a dagger or knife. Nothing. They had really dropped her in the inner rings of Hell without a weapon. At least her wing shackles and handcuffs were gone. 

Amira pushed down the anxiety that swamped her from being unarmed. She didn't need knives and daggers to fight demons, she had her own body. With this comforting thought, she opened her wings to check if they were functional. 

Shock filled her at the sight.

They were functional, all right. Red streaks ran across her normal black wings, giving the illusion of blood seeping through her feathers. As she opened them for what felt like the first time in days, tingles spread over her fingers. Before her very eyes, black talons sprouted in place of pink nails. She gasped as they quickly grew, the tips razor sharp. Apparently, her Fall hadn't changed her too much as she could still feel the Warfire raging inside her. Yet at the same time, she felt...stronger. As if someone had injected power into her veins.

What's happening to me?

Then realization settled in. I have Fallen. 

That thought made her stumble back, almost crashing back into the dirty stream. It had really happened. It wasn't an awful nightmare that she could just wake up from--it was reality. Someone had framed her for murder by placing her prints on the murder weapon. The Council had not listened to a word she said and here she was, in the inner rings of hell, for a crime she did not do. 

Amira swallowed back the scream that threatened to climb out of her throat. Fury filled her entire body, so much that she trembled from it. Yet she also felt so confused. Why had this happened to her? Who had a vendetta against her that they would frame her for murder? She didn't think she had offended anyone, so much to the point that they would go to this length to hurt her. Maybe it was random? Maybe Jezabelle was the true target and they just targeted her because she was a La'ziel and knew that she would take the fall?