Leah: Hope

[moonshadows]

I drop the demon as soon as I feel his life dissipate, his blood dripping from my claws as I run for the jagged black prison, hooves slipping slightly on whatever this surface is, tail out for balance. The armored red skin of my arms looks horribly out of place against the angel’s bright armor and the soft glow of – her? – wings. However, it looks equally horribly right against the seething semi-crystalline spikes. I pull them back with effort, and the angel drops into my arms. I support her until she gets her feet beneath her, trying not to accidentally scratch her with any of the spikes or spines this form has.

“Are you alright?” My voice is harsh and guttural in this form, and I wince.

“No.” Hers, by contrast, is melody and harmony all in one. “I am dying.”

My heart plummets.

“I had hoped the Scroll of Fate was wrong,” she continues, one delicately-glowing gauntlet caressing the mockery of a cheek I have before dropping to where my heart would be. “And in a way, it was. Because your fate, nephalem, is not recorded on the Scroll.”

It’s the first time that word has not felt like an epithet. Uttered by her musical voice, it sounds like a blessing. I swallow. “What do you mean?”

She looks at me, soft darkness beneath the hood, and her hand on my chest feels warm – not hot, but nearly unbearably comfortable, like every happy memory I’ve ever had.

“You were my hope when I had none,” her voice sings softly. “And so, you shall be Hope for everyone.”

The warmth spreads through my hideous body as she slumps against me. I do my best to hold her gently, hot tears slipping down my misshapen face from the eyes that burn with an unholy glow. The soft pink glow of her wings flickers, those floating tendrils retracting as the life that had powered them dims. It doesn’t take more than a few breaths before I am holding empty armor, the hood falling down inside it.

When I kneel to place it reverently on the floor, I see pink tendrils floating out of the corners of my eyes. The warmth of Auriel’s life shifts within me, flowing through my veins, flowing over my skin, and then it settles into place with a rightness that defies words. I stand and stretch my wings as the meaning of her last words registers.

Hope, huh? I can work with that.