Angelica travelled through the air at a speed that defied logic, her wings brilliantly following behind her form. The few tears that she had shed were gone, and now she was brimming with hope. What she had gone through was unbearable: Taken from her duty as the right hand to the God of Creation by the mad God Galileo she had originally been confused, then furious as Galileo began to use her flesh and blood for whatever experiment he just happened to have in mind. Although it was painful, Angelica was more humiliated than suffering, and she never allowed a scream, much less tears escape her despite the torture. That had changed when Galileo stopped taking the samples, or visiting her altogether.

At first a month passed, then a year. That was not unusual in her capture as the madman often disappeared to do his twisted ‘research’. However, as decades had come to pass, dread had began to slowly churn in Angelica’s stomach. She had been left alone in the darkness and hope began to decay. After the first millennium she had been on the brink of breaking down, yet there was another one after that, and she could feel that it had changed her. Her psyche was a mangled mess of selective amnesia, coping mechanisms and damaged old memories. Unable to leave nor die, Angelica had clung to a single hope as she counted down the endless minutes: The loyalty to her lord.

She touched her dried cheeks and contemplated. It was hard for her to understand the outburst of tears she let happen earlier. Angelica was proud by nature, as the firstborn to the God of creation she could look down on the world as the right hand of her lord. She was unaware she was even capable of crying, or feeling such deep emotions besides the loyalty and love for her lord. It was perhaps relief, an alien feeling beforehand. Relief that her suffering was over, and that she would be able to return where she belongs. Maybe it was also disbelief in the extent of Galileo’s madness. The few sentences Galileo spoke at the end only depicted truly how insane the immortal was.

Suddenly, Angelica felt an impact as she flew into something while absorbed into her thoughts. Startled, she halted her rapid movement, and then looked behind herself. At first Angelica assumed that she had run through a mountain that she had forgotten about, however, the sight behind her clearly disproved that: Her sharp eyes noticed pieces of white and grey debris falling from the sky in the distance, likely belonging to whatever she had shattered by her sheer velocity. A moment later she even noticed what appeared to be blood and flesh among the falling remnants.

“Flying ship?” Angelica immediately thought, but quickly dismissed the thought. If such a thing was in her way, she would have detected its leaking mana from beyond the horizon, even if she was deep in thoughts. Perhaps her senses had degenerated to a terrifying degree, that would also explain why the mana and divinity in the air felt many times fainter than what she remembered. Although surprised, Angelica was not curious enough to delay her reunion. Once again she took off, counting the distance she had already travelled, her goal had to be near. She could not hold down the anticipation. After thousands of years, she would finally be home. Visions of the Holy city already entered her mind. She could almost hear the bustling streets, the church bells and devoted prayers. The smell of enchanted incense crept into her nostrils and the sip of blessed wine as though entered her lips.

In that memory she was no longer the tortured victim of the mad Galileo, she was the young and proud Archangel, the most devoted servant to the greatest God. She would bless the water which purged all evil and herd all the sheep in the dark. A hymn she would sing every Sunday began to appear on her lips as her undying heart began to pound. Despite her dulled sense, Angelica felt the power permeating the air grow thicker with every passing second. More memories began to cascade into her mind, memories of her creator. The God of Creation, the giver of all things. He who brought forth all there is, was and will be. The singular being which no one dares name. Not even Angelica ever learned what her creator's true name was, and so the greatest of all Gods was always know only by his greatest achievement. The God of creation. The immortal being which created the world and all that came to reside in it.

Just a bit further, her mind whispered as she imagined her lord’s form. He was everything and nothing at the same time. Chaos and Order. Life and death. Black and white. All polar opposites united into a singular existence. What little her mind could understand would never depict his true form, and that was fine. The divinity and mana in the air became exponentially bigger with each second now, and Angelica knew she had arrived. She just had to descend through the clouds which blocked her vision.

“I am home,” a smile of relief appeared on her face, and she nearly let her tears run down again. The only thing that stopped her was the thought that it would be a disgrace to her lord. She slowed down to a near halt, many of the clouds dispersing from the remnant shockwave, though there was still enough to block her sight. Exhaling, Angelica dived straight down, managing her speed as to not spook anyone beneath. When she fully passed through the veil of the clouds a flabbergasting sight appeared in her eyes: Instead of a bustling city full of life, she only saw dead and cold ruins.

“What happened?!” Angelica was stunned as she exclaimed, but no answer was given. She looked around herself in disbelief, she could see the frame of the guilds at the marketplace, the ruined residences and palaces, and even her own cracked statue in the central square. Most of all, she saw the great cathedral, the dwelling of her lord, ruined and in shambles. The windows where stained glass used to portray angels and saints were gone, only a hollow frame left behind. The stone was festered with moss, and the great gateway to the cathedral was gone without a trace. It was horrible, atrocious.

Inexcusable.

Angelica realised she was weeping again, gilded tears running down her cheeks. It was incomprehensible. How could her lord's great domain be reduced to such a pitiful state? It was completely impossible, she had to be missing something. Perhaps her lord found a more suitable location for his sanctum, she reasoned, quickly convincing herself, and he decided to leave this place behind as a lifeless artefact.

Not completely lifeless, Angelica realised. Now that she was not so focused on the destroyed buildings she noticed that there were figures walking among the unmaintained streets. At first glance, they were apparently humans, though they were wearing clothes and holding devices Angelica had never seen before. Moreover, their auras were weak, in fact, pitiful. At its prime, such powerless beings would not be able to step into the Holy land even as slaves. The fact that such beings dared tread through the holy land unsupervised was blasphemy. But Angelica could do something about that later, once she understood the situation. First of all, she needed to enter the great cathedral, her creator must have left something behind to lead her way. Something to propel herself forward on the right path back to her lord’s service.

She scoffed at the people beneath, some of them were now staring and even pointing those devices at her, and she once again accelerated, this time towards the ruined cathedral. She was much faster than when she passed through the clouds, though she was careful to not further damage the already devastated buildings. Quickly she passed through the opening where the Gateway of sainthood used to stand and entered the familiar hall. Grand pillars and vaults welcomed her immediately, and even though the paintings were gone and there were quite a few cracks or even holes layered around the walls, the inside was apparently far better preserved than the outside of the building. Angelica’s winged form rapidly moved above the bewildered mortals as she reached the distant altar in a moment and landed. If there was a clue somewhere, it would be there, at the place where she used to give sermons to the most devout followers.

“Oh, no,” Angelica just started looking around when a gasp escaped her lips. The few humans around her were looking at her outstretched golden wings with curiosity and lust, but they were not present in the eyes of current Angelica, “No, no, no, no, no, NO!” her celestial form crumbled to the stone floor, dropping down to her knees as she stared right above her head. In that place, imbued into the highest point of the roof, had always been a great crimson jewel, known as the Heart of the God of Creation. Angelica could still remember the day it was carved out of the flesh of her God. Each time her lord's heart would beat, the gemstone would pulse with scarlet glow. Each time her lord grew full of sorrow the glow would become dimmer, and when he was instead filled with joy it would be brighter than ever. It represented the very existence of Angelica’s lort, it was his divine heart, his immortal heritage for all to witness.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Tears once again ran down Angelica’s cheeks, this time as a downpour. Angelica felt as though all strength left her and she completely collapsed, unwilling to look at the thing above any longer. The crimson gem she clearly remembered was still there, of that she had no doubt. Yet it did not glow with scarlet, or pulsate like a heart. It was dark and cold, completely dead. Angelica curled into a ball on the ground, covering herself with her gilded wings, yet the surging pain would not stop. She tried to not understand what she saw, and even wished she had never looked up, yet it was beyond denial. As dread crept up to her, Angelica was no longer able to push the truth away. The unthinkable had happened.

The God of Creation was dead.

The moment Angelica had finally fully admitted that fact she was overwhelmed. Grief and dread that even the millennia of solitude could not compare with assaulted the archangel. All hope had abandoned the desperate girl, and terror took its place. Her heart was ruptured and torn asunder. Her very reason for being crumbled. She held on for such a long time because of her faith. Because of her loyalty. Now that her lord was gone, she felt broken. Since her birth until the day Galileo captured her, Angelica had only ever served her creator. It was the very reason for which she ever came to be. Now that her raison d’etre was gone, she felt as though all her effort, all her suffering in that lonely dark room were for nought.

“Jsi v pořádku?” a voice suddenly sounded from beside her. Although she could not understand the language, she could feel it was one of the mortals. One of the heretics who dared defile her lord’s place of rest. Disturbed and shaken, Angelica lashed out.

A golden wave swept through the cathedral. In an instant, the earth shook and the skies trembled. Anywhere the wave passed, all life began to slumber. The flowers outside closed ceased their bloom in preparation for the night; the animals wandering around and within the city softly crumbled to the ground while the birds flying overhead began to rapidly descend without any conscious support for their wings. Even the humans around Angelica suddenly entered the deepest sleep, toppling over in and in most cases either breaking some of their things or receiving minor injuries.

Suddenly the ruined city became eerily silent. There were no birds singing or people talking. No animals running around or trees shifting in the wind. The only sound that prevailed was the endless sobbing at the end of the cathedral. There, curled into a ball, Angelica lay, golden tears never ceasing to leave her cheeks. They clang to her body as she kept weeping and weeping, unable to stop herself. It only came to an end as she cried herself to sleep.