Don't Let the Sparrow Whisper

“Let me ask… if you were in a neverending nightmare… let's say… lost in a labyrinth. A maze where every dead end could hide your death. Where every turn only leads you back to the same place. Where you swear you can see sinister eyes in the darkness of the long path... would you take the first offer out? The price? Lying to yourself… and everyone else… for all eternity. Could you do it? Could you live forever on a lie? Could you sleep at night knowing you’ve deceived everyone you’ve ever known like gullible bastards? To you it may seem like an easy trade. A few lies here and you get to live free again. I know there’s people in this world who’ve built their entire lives on lies. But stop and think, try to understand just how long forever is. Keep such a horrible lie for that long… and it would eventually eat away at you. Inch by inch, fragment by fragment. Until there was nothing left but a void built entirely on mind numbing guilt. If you can understand all of this. Then you have a fraction of an idea of what I'm going through. Who am I? I use to be important, I use to mean something to people. I used to be free. Free from the horrors I never knew. From the fear I never had. From the broken shards of my life that I never walked on like sharp glass. There was a time where my lungs were never empty of breath from running away from trust… from fear… from everything. But that all changed… Stornheime. Eight months ago. My life wasn’t the shambles that it is now. I was loved. Praised. I was Suzura, an Angelic who was well known for being a fighter with determination that everyone around me proclaimed, ‘unbreakable.’ For being as headstrong as a hurricane. No matter the challenges I faced. I was looked well upon for being as sharp as my wings. For guiding many men and women of the world below us to be just as determined and unshakable as I was. Ready to face anything. Ready to fight to the end for what they believed in. All of this gained me a high amount of recognition. And through my success over my life, I attracted eyes. Piercing golden eyes that will now haunt me for the rest of my years… Oczandarys. If there was ever such a thing as a viper in lion’s clothing, Oczandarys would be it. Standing so tall, so proud, seemingly without any trace of evil in his blood. Little do you know... That underneath the flowing golden mane there’s a yellow eyed snake, a viper flickering its black forked tongue to memorize the scent of any prey that dares look it in the eye. Posed to strike with hollowed fangs filled with the most lethal venom that absolutely nothing escapes once bitten. I was one of the prey… I felt the fangs in my skin. And the worst part of it all? The viper still hasn’t let go. In the centuries that followed Oczandarys and I… we got close. It wasn’t much at first. A few sought out conversations here, a sideways glance or two there. But it progressed. While others felt tense and intimidated around him. I felt calm, peaceful. I didn’t care if he was scarred, to me it only added more depth, something different. He couldn’t intimidate me like he had the others. And I knew he found it amusing. I knew that if there was anyone in this world I could trust. It would be him. Eventually, I began to realize certain… emotions. Feelings I never thought I would have. It was here he had grown accustomed to my admiration. I knew he wanted the attention. But surprisingly I kept my inner feelings to myself. There just… wasn’t a time or place I could grasp that would allow me to tell him properly. Back a few years ago, I had found another mortal to guide. A Jacorian man named Marcel. Such a strong, noble soul, and wasn’t afraid to put his life on the line for those who couldn’t defend themselves against the harsher threats. Immediately I could tell, he had the potential to be something greater. I took heavy interest in his life. Making him stronger, making sure he knew which was the right path. Knowing that he was destined to save so many innocence. I was proud of him. I knew he would achieve what he wanted most. To be a better person in this cruel world. However… one night. Marcel was moving through a village. Stopping briefly to rest for a while. He heard a shaking whine in the shadows of one of the buildings. He narrowed his eyes trying to see through the darkness. In the corner was a huddled shape. Curiously Marcel made his way over to the shape. He found a man. Wrapped in a black cloak. Most of his face was hidden in the shadow. But it was clear that was distraught. I watch Marcel try to talk to the man. “Are you alright? What are you doing in the shadow of a building?” The man didn’t speak for a moment. Then lifted his head to look at Marcel. His eyes held so many mixed emotions in them it was hard for even me to pick out much. But there was one that was more prevalent than anything: Guilt. “... Can I ask you something? How long could you live knowing you have so much blood on your hands you didn’t ask for? It seemed like we were kids then… what did we know about anything.” The man finally spoke. Marcel blinked, a bit taken aback by the man’s shaking tone. "What do you mean?" It was then that the man took a hand from underneath the cloak and ripped away the fabric. Marcel’s eyes widened. There on the man’s back, was tattered, broken wings. It was then that we both knew. We had found a banished Angelic. And this is where my nightmare begins. Marcel was at a loss for words. And the Angelic took the opportunity. And I'll never forget the conversation. “You mortals think we’re perfect… that we know everything, that we see everything. That we’re unable to do something wrong, or make misjudgments. The truth? We’re no better than all the rest of you. The only difference is that when we screw up… there’s nothing that can save us.” Marcel listened with visible interest, kneeling down with more just concern lighting his gaze. “How did you get like this? What happened to you?” The Angelic paused for a few long heartbeats. Then looked at the ground, I could see that he slowly stopped shaking.. “How long as it been now? Years… centuries... an era? I honestly don’t remember. Maybe… maybe it's time.” I was surprised at how quickly the Angelic’s voice changed from being a quivering grunt, to coldly calm. It was almost, spine chilling. Like something changed inside him. Like he finally accepted some unknown notion. I’ve seen that type of change before. It's the same ice cold acceptance of those who were sentenced to death. Those people who first felt denial and fear when the sentence was passed, but as the minutes slip away and they near the hour of execution, the mind goes numb. And soon all the shock wears away and the only feeling is the complete absence of feeling. A void. A cold, dark, silent embracement of the inescapable. There was something wrong here. There was something very wrong. And it was after these few long heartbeats, that we finally found out what. Over the course of the last draining minutes… the Angelic began to recount something that at many times I wish I never heard. He slowly began to speak of speak of something I had rarely ever thought about. The prison. A highly secluded facility that was used to jail the captured the rebels of the Angelic Civil War so many years ago. Or… so it seemed. At least that’s what they told everyone. In reality, however. The cruel… sad… reality, is that prison isn’t exactly a prison. Its a terrible eternal purgatory. Meant to do nothing but sadistically punish our own people. He spoke of how it was technically a black hole, meant to hold and perpetually crush the souls of our own slain brethren. Always deathly silent, because their dreadful screams and wails can never pierce through the pulling blackness. It's a void of horror, and darkness. An endless torment. And as if that wasn’t bad enough... he then in a lower voice mumbled that it was more than just a endless torture to those of the civil war. It was the fate of every Angelic that was or ever will be banished. For if and when they die, and they… always… die, their soul is pulled into the prison and they become stuck in the endless torment as well. Marcel was speechless. His eyes held nothing but utter shock and disgust. The very idea that the most pure race was capable of such cruelty, it was almost to much to process. I have to give him credit. Because he wasn’t nearly as shaken as I was. No… I was frozen. There aren’t any words in any language that could describe what I felt. The best way I can put it into anything understandable, was that it was like part of me shut down. It was far beyond shock. A mind sensory overload that was too much for my body to contain all at once. Marcel was silent for a long while. Until he stammered out, “Who-...Who would be insane and demented enough to do such a thing?” The banished Angelic lifted his head and stared Marcel dead in the eye. And uttered a name that made all the blood in my veins run cold. Oczandarys. No… that can’t be right. It's not possible. At first I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. He wouldn’t be capable of such evil… could he? The more I thought about it. The more the realization creeped over me like water becoming ice when exposed to just the right temperature. I realized that maybe...I was the fool. And there was a reason that he instilled so much uneasiness around everyone. Maybe it was instinctual. Like the instinct in prey that gives them their keen sense of danger. Whether they’re aware of it or not. Oczandarys was the one who called the prison to be built. He would have had to know what it truly did. And more importantly… He would have had to be the one to keep it from everyone else. Everyone knows how vicious he can be to those who get in his way. Is it so much of a leap that he would banish anyone who couldn’t hold the lie, just to keep them quiet? Marcel seemed to swallow and tilt his head. ‘And how do you know all of this?’ He spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. The Angelic’s eyes were full of pain. And with one finally sentence he breathed: "Because I helped build it…" There was a silence in the air. Like the calm before lightning strikes in a storm. Then by some unseen command a woman screamed as in the moonlight shined against blades lathered in scarlet. Marauders, a pack of them filtered through the buildings like rats. Awaking the village, and panicking everyone. Marcel quickly shot up and snapped his head towards the chaos unfolding around him. The village was beginning to burn. Houses were being raided. Things stolen. People young and old were dying. His head seemed to snap back to reality, and he drew his sword ready to fight. The Angelic beside him stirred. “Don’t bother fighting.” He spoke, standing up. “It’s not you they’re after. Save yourself kid. I’ve had this coming a long time.” There was a glint of water in his weary gaze. He looked older now. Tired. “It’s too late for me. Dammed if I know what’s right anymore.” Marcel and I watched as the broken and defeated Angelic walked out into the open. Step by step, slowly lifting his arms and holding them outward. The leader of the gang turned to view the oncoming sight. And a twisted grin fell across his face. The Angelic walked toward him. “I can’t live like this anymore…kill me.” The gang leader seemed like he stiffened a laugh. And I watched as this, rat forced the Banished to his knees, lifting his head by his hair, and holding up his own sword. The Angelic didn’t resist. He just gazed up into the sky, a silver tear falling from the corner of his eye. “Oczandarys, if you’re watching this… you win… I hope my end brings you joy, monster.” And with those last words. The sword was swung across the Angelic’s neck. Slicing his head clean off. Marcel screamed in a rage I had rarely seen in him. And me? I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I felt as helpless as a human child. Watching the crimes committed before my eyes, unable to do anything. Marcel took his sword and rushed the leader in a blind rage. But before he could get close, his wrist was caught and he was yanked violently backwards. Two of the Marauders had come to aid their leader, and restrained Marcel. Twisting the sword from his hand and kicking the back of his legs to make him buckle under his own weight. Marcel was now on his knees. About to face the same fate he just observed. The leader’s grin only grew. I watched as the mortal I was suppose to protect struggle and writhe to yank himself free. His eyes soon began to yield to the fear as realization of death set in. I felt my heart lurch. I felt every piece of my core screaming at me to do something. Anything, but stand there. At the very moment I saw the sword glitter in the moon’s ray as it was lifted to inevitably strike. The spark inside my stomach ignited into a wildfire. And I roared with such fury I forgot myself completely. I felt myself surge into action. Coming down to the mortal plane and made the dirt fly when my feet hit the ground. Everyone was thrown backwards. The impact brok