Baraqiel’s heart pumped so hard, so loudly, that they could feel their entire body shake with each throb. Time had slowed down to a crawl as the Demiurge’s mighty frame fell on its back, his grasp on both the candle and his own situation completely failing him. It was all blurry for the young Angel, their own thumbs sinking so hard into the man’s eyes, something deep inside of the child just yearning to hear them pop… their own little shoulder angel managed to barely steer them away from that.

Don’t go crazy now! Get up!

The whole dungeon shook for a second, just another man-made tremor disturbing the night. Baraqiel’s hands retreated for a moment– only to immediately go back to scratch the hell out of their captor’s face.

Get a hold of yourself, damn it!!

There was no use: months of pent up anger and hatred were fueling them right then and there, so Baraqiel was little more than a puppet to their boiling emotions. Snarling, screaming, they unleashed their anger with such violence that soon blood splattered in little drops out of the open wounds, both on the man’s face and on the child’s body.

But the surprise of the moment was passing. And with each moment, the Demiurge’s stunned mind was closer to return, his huge hands shaking awake and trembling with newfound anger. Eager to grasp the fragile neck of a disrespectful child and simply snap it in half, like a twig.

The rest of the children in cages were still completely stupefied, staring at the spectacle with a mix of awe, envy and fear. None dared to even move a finger, until suddenly an upstart figure among them grabbed the bars of their cage, and at the top of their lungs they screamed.

“The keys, Baraqiel! The keys!!”

All hell broke loose then. It was the little push the rest of the captive children needed to join into screaming, shaking their chains, rattling their cages, trying to make as much noise as they could to push their companion out.

“Take them and run! Run, run now!!”

The screams reverberated heavily in both Baraqiel and the old man’s brains, echoing time and time again, loud enough to force the escaping angel out of their anger so they could actually look for the precious key. And there it was, hanging right from the Demiurge’s belt. The kid’s hand reached for it, grasping the keyring and pulling slightly, but it was tied to the belt’s leather.

Come on, pull harder, I–

“That is enough!!”

It all happened faster than Baraqiel could even think. The Demiurge’s anger reached a new level that night, as he violently stood up and pushed the disrespectful, upstart child away from himself.

“Quiet, all of you!! I will have order, you hear me!?!”

Riiiip.

Baraqiel could feel how the key on their hand ripped the flimsy piece of rope keeping them together, just as their body flew away and slammed straight against a cold, porous wall. They could also feel how something deep inside of their back moved and cracked loud enough to be heard.

Not again…!

As their body touched the ground again, they could barely feel the cold on their left leg: it was numbing again. And the Demiurge had his eyes now nailed on them, fire practically sparking out of their shaking irises.

That numbness spreaded in an instant, going from Baraqiel’s leg and soon taking over their entire body quicker than they could blink. But it wasn’t from the injury, not at all: this time it was fear that was paralyzing them.

Fear of the hulking man walking menacingly towards them, hands twitching, knuckles cracking.

The other children fell silent once again, a few gasps escaping from the crew. This was it. Baraqiel tried to shake themselves awake once more, rubbing their legs and squinting their eyes on a useless attempt to close them, look away, do whatever they could to snap out of it. To no avail. The man was soon towering in front of the child, as Baraqiel could barely force themselves to stand.

“Why is it always you that causes me the most trouble, Baraqiel…?” The Demiurge’s voice sounded grave, deep and full of resentment. “Is this, what, the fifth vessel? Should I even bother with a sixth?”

A huge hand squeezed Baraqiel’s neck without any effort, wrapping thick and fat fingers all around their frame as if it was nothing at all. He didn’t even put any strength into the hold, and the child could already feel the fear do the rest of the job emptying their lungs. The neck has always been such a tender, delicate and sensitive area of the human body: one of the most vital points in classical physiognomy, so helpless and fragile that the mind itself was wired up to always defend it at all costs. But that fight or flight response was far from perfect, and after being pushed so far…

Baraqiel’s brain simply could not process the sudden, desperate screams of their body blaring every single alarm at once.

They could only grasp that hand, pathetically clawing at it while the Deminuge lifted them like cattle, chosen for that night’s feast.

“All trouble and barely no results, maybe this is a sign from the Gods?” the man frowned as his hand began to squeeze harder. “That you are simply not worth it.”

Air was no longer reaching Baraqiel’s chest, their body already aching from it all, their legs shaking uselessly above the ground. The despair tainted it all in that barely lit dungeon, and in the middle of it all, the angel could only think of a single phrase. A plea, as if it would do them any good now.

“Please let me go…”

Baraqiel closed their eyes, finally. Their legs dangled immobile, hands letting go slowly of the man’s choke hold, resignation finally washing ashore on the angel’s mind. And as darkness finally took it all…

A pair of little hands suddenly grabbed a hold of the old man’s hair, pulling him closer to the cages to his left. And then, that same trembling, nasal voice from before screamed ever harder than before, to the point where it clearly destroyed their throat in the process.

“Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!!”

The word extended as much as the child could hold it,the high pitch being enough to force the Demiurge to his knees as both hands now covered his ears. Baraqiel’s feet finally touched the ground once more, and the kid coughed and gasped desperately for precious fresh air. They would even puke at this point if there was anything left in them to puke.

“Don’t just stay there, run! Run, Baraqiel!!”

The rest of the children in cages went back to their frenzy of screaming and jumping, shaking, demanding attention. Meanwhile, the escaped angel simply nodded, and taking the chance of that new rush, they turned right around and pushed themselves against the door, jamming the key so hard in its lock that it almost felt like stabbing. The machinery inside groaned and creaked by the force.

Just as the hulking man was recovering his ground, Baraqiel managed to open the door. They didn’t even try to look back, for the fear was still way too fresh in their mind to even try and tempt fate like that. With speed that they never even knew they had, the child slid right out into the dark before slamming that door shut. And locking the door.

Only to quickly throw the key into the pitch black room around them.

“BARAQIEL, OPEN UP THIS INSTANT!!”

The child tried to lay against the closed door for a moment, if only to recover their breath, but the violent shaking and banging literally pushed them off onto the floor. A furious Demiurge was using all of his strength to try and force his own safety door open. The cobblestone on this floor was just like the one inside, and Baraqiel made sure to take a bit of solace in that fact as they listened up to the old man’s desperate screams.

… They could barely hear them from outside.

Gods that’s terrifying.

To think that they suffered so much and the sound could barely escape was a horrible thought! No wonder no one had ever even tried to come for them, did anyone even know they were in here?

But where is here exactly?

Baraqiel had heard the rumors from children who came from this room next door, but they never really imagined seeing it with their own eyes. It smelled… different, from their own little Hell beyond that shaking door. Much more strange, acidic, a mixture of urine and that spicy liquid the man used to clean after them. As if this place needed even more of it to keep it spotless.

Or, not actually spotless. As vision returned to the child’s eyes, they could see stains of blood, soot and brown on two wide looking stone slabs. Their version of the Spire had a much smaller mechanism, but it was connected to bigger surfaces– the metallic tendrils were the same though, even if there were less of them.

Looking further away from it all, the Angel saw bookshelves, counters with many bottles, rags and tools, and an even heavier looking metal door. Baraqiel swallowed a bit, there was no way the key they just threw away was the same for that one anyways, so there was no way of opening it.

Did they escape only to find another trap? A room with no escape at all!? The kid felt their hands balling up, anger and frustration once again pumping so hard that it made their little body shake, and then–

A sound. A gentle whistle.

Baraqiel opened their eyes, quieting down and ignoring the loud banging of the door, trying to focus on that sound. It was so, so low they could barely perceive it, but it was definitely there, accompanied by the feeling of something caressing the back of their neck. A coldness that they hadn’t felt in so long.

Wind.

A hole!?

Turning right on their heels, the kid could distinguish something different in the darkness. Something that was shaking just like the door they escaped from, but it was a bit too flimsy to make much noise. There was a short stairway, leading straight to a trapdoor! And judging by how it was shaking, the trapdoor was both fragile and connected straight to the surface.

An exit… I did it. I actually did it…!!

Baraqiel’s heart soared, their legs moving slowly as they approached their ticket home. Had the strength finally abandoned them? Had they gone completely mad? No. They were simply lost in that feeling, that euphoria they hadn’t felt in so long. Glee, excitement, all kinds of positive emotion from such a little opportunity. They were still a kid, after all, away from things such as chronic pessimism.

There it is, right there! I just need to break through and that’s the end! Never again!! That guy won’t be able to stop me or even touch me ever again! Never, ever again!!

Despite it all, Baraqiel had never felt as young as they did in that precise instant, while the winds picked up around them, and the world itself felt so small, so unimportant. Not even the echoes of the door behind them mattered at all.

Not even when the door broke.

This is it, forever!! He can do whatever he wants, he won't be able to stop me! Never again!!

Never again…!!

—

The reinforced wooden door finally broke after one last desperate, furious charge. As the splinters flew all around me and the metal joints finally gave up in trying to stop me, I swore to all the Gods listening that I would grab that miserable angel by the wings, and squeeze the life out of them myself.

“Baraqiel, come back here right this instant!!”

I don’t even know why I bother calling, they will not come back. Not on their own, at least. Ohh, but when I grab them, I will make sure the next Baraqiel has no ways to even move without me noticing. This has gone way too far.

If only the blood vessels in the legs were not so vital to the whole ordeal, I would break the vessel’s ankles every time we receive a new one.

My eyes dart from side to side, trying to ignore the poor state of my w orkshop. The sisters were slacking off again, stains here and there were terrible for the process, they contaminated the air and the miasma expelled by them was sure to make our results even worse. I try hard not to think about it, but I will definitely make them hear about this tomorrow morning.

But that’s not the point now. Right now, Baraqiel was on the loose…. There is no way that kid could open the safety gate, not without the key, and they have no idea where we put anything in this room. They couldn’t hide forever, not in such a small room, so that only leaves–

“That blasted trapdoor…!!”

When I turned around to pounce upon the kid’s way, something gently pushes me back. Wind? Is the door already open? Zephyrs danced in the air, getting thicker and heavier with a luminous energy, to the point where I can literally see them flowing against my body like a river of light.

My hands tremble, I start sweating. There is no way the kid activated my Spire on their own, they had no idea of the process OR the specific incantations required. But then, where did this come from?

The kid. The Angel.

They were standing right in front of the trap door, fully immobile yet spreading their energies through the entire room. It was growing heavier, stronger, pushing from the depths of their soul and now, once again, free in our reality.

Magic. The essence of all creation. Finally, within my grasp!

The vessel was shining brightly, their eyes closed. No doubt about it: they were seeing a Rune, the projection from the Tree of Origins, the legendary voice of the Gods was being heard once more!

I try to raise my voice above the howling winds, standing my ground right then and there.

“Baraqiel!! What is that you see!? What is that you feel deep within!?” I begged to the Angel. The old scriptures said that by merely witnessing this, the holy Inspiration would come right at me as well… but I felt nothing.

Something was missing.

“Tell me, oh great one! What is that you have learned!? Share this gift with the world! Give this gift to me, I command you!”

But the Angel was not answering. Not until I approached more, my hand squeezing the vessel’s body and shaking it to demand its attention.

“Baraqiel!!”

The Angel then whispers something, something I cannot grasp. I try to shake them harder, to get them closer, but the winds push me back.

Until finally, they turn around! I see their lips moving, their eyes illuminated! Their Ascended voice speaks and I see–

“Never again.”

A flash of light engulfed it all, right then. Force without comparison, pushing in all directions at once. And the sound of thunder, announcing lightning flying right back at the cruel, raining skies