Chapter Text
Sylvia had suffered more cruelty in her meager thirty-five years of life than most had over twice that time.
Mother killed before she hit puberty.
Husband killed by her own hand in the line of duty.
Fiancé killed by the very government she’d sworn to uphold.
She never imagined she’d have to watch them all die a second time, couldn’t fathom that heaven would be cruel enough to slay three of their own winners just for trying to help their loved one avoid divine destruction. Yet here they were.
Lottie’s smoldering corpse lay just feet from her, struck through the chest with Michael’s flaming sword. The fiercely intelligent honey brown eyes of her second love were vacant, and her mouth stuck wide open in an everlasting echo of the agonized scream that had been cut short as her soul was consumed by holy fire.
Sylvia thrashed against the iron grip twisting her arms behind her back as she watched the yellow-haired angel set his blade against the back of her mother’s trembling neck.
“Michael, don’t! You know she’s innoc—”
The archangel cut her off as he met her gaze, nothing but cold resignation in his baby blue eyes.
“She helped a sinner escape, allowed you to slay no less than four members of the heavenly host in the attempt. Your corruption has tainted them all. They are winners no more.”
Her eyes shifted momentarily to her husband, held on his knees by another of Michael’s warriors. She had made them promise to give up without a fight if she was captured. They’d thought the worst punishment they could suffer would be to fall, and they’d been prepared for that outcome. Not this. Not searing flame and annihilation. A whimper escaped from her mother’s grit teeth, and Sylvia’s eyes snapped back to her, watching the blade press just a hair deeper.
“Then sentence them to hell! This is fucking wrong, and you know it, you unbelievable bastard!”
Michael’s flawless white face twisted briefly into a snarl before smoothing out, but the strain in his voice was noticeable.
“And let them regroup and launch some ill-advised attack on heaven in revenge for destroying you? I think not. This is the only choice you’ve left me with.”
Sylvia opens her mouth to reason with him once more, but the words die in her throat as flames once again erupt from Michael’s sword as he presses down, slicing through her mother’s neck in the blink of an eye. The beautiful black curls that Sylvia had been so proud to inherit from her mother tangled around her head as it fell to the puffy white ground and rolled twice, obscuring Rosalie’s final expression. Sylvia sank to her knees and sunk her head as violent sobs tore themselves free from her choked up throat. The warrior kept firm hold of her arms above her head, and they burned from the stretch. Bloody tears slid down her face, staining the pearly white ground as they landed.
“One left, and then your suffering will be over.”
Sylvia forced the sobs back and raised her head.
“Please. No more. Let him go and just take me. Please, Michael.”
Michael turned from her husband, who was violently tugging at his restraints and screaming through the gag tied around his mouth. He’d been hurling curses and violent threats at Michael since the moment his blade touched Lottie’s flesh. The angel considered her a moment, and for the first time she could see a flicker of conflict in his steel eyes. The gag disappeared with a wave of his hand, and with another, her husband’s curses fell silent.
“Liam Stark, will you swear not to seek vengeance against the heavenly host for exacting righteous judgement on this wicked sinner? Not only that, will you swear your allegiance to me and become one of my warriors?”
The moment Michael lifted his will of silence; her husband’s lips curled into a sneer.
“Get bent, bast—”
“You promised, Liam!”
Liam looked at her, his breath hitching at her open crying and pleading expression.
“Don’t make me watch you die again. You promised if we got caught you would cooperate. Please, Liam.”
Perfect crystalline tears welled in his golden eyes before they were shielded by a shock of silver hair as he tucked his chin and whispered.
“I swear.”
A spiral of blue and gold smoke erupted from Michael’s hand, wrapping around Liam’s wrists and solidifying into gleaming cuff bracelets, forever binding him to his word. The warrior holding her husband released their hold and stepped back, allowing Liam to stand to his full height, which towered over the diminutive archangel. Michael paid him no mind as he turned and approached her, a facsimile of a sad smile twisting his porcelain features. Her captor released her as well, but she made no move to escape, letting her burning arms fall to her sides as Michael raised his flaming blade over her head.
“Very well. Let there be no more angelic blood spilt this day.”
Sylvia let her eyes slide closed as the blade came down, but instead of searing pain, she felt only a hard shove. The stink of burning flesh hit her nose as she fell backwards off the edge of the clouds, and her eyes snapped open as shaking arms circled around her waist. Liam’s molten gold eyes were filled with pain as they plummeted from the celestial city toward the crimson hellscape below. Michael stood at the edge of the cloud; face twisted in fury as six glorious white wings unfurled so he could chase after them. Her hands trembled as she brought them up to caress her husband’s face, and her words were choked with more hiccupping sobs.
“What the hell did you do?”
The wound in his back was spreading fast, fire eating through flesh and burning the robe covering Liam’s chest. He took in a shaky breath and pressed already cold lips to hers, before laying his cheek in the crook of her neck. Wind whistled in her ears as the ground fast approached, muffling his response, but she felt his lips move against her skin.
“S-sorry, darling. Broke my promise. But I c-couldn’t… I just couldn’t let him do it.”
Sylvia pulled his face from her neck and shook him, trying to shake life back into him as she watched the light leave his eyes, the brilliant gold turning black.
“No! Stay with me! Liam!”
It was too late. His body had gone still, and his grip around her waist slackened. Liam’s eyes shuddered closed, and the smile froze on his face. Sylvia tucked him against her again and kissed his hair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the ground to meet them and take her pain away. Then she heard the flap of Michael’s wings and the singing of his sword as it cut through the air, just missing them.
Rage.
Unbridled.
Unrelenting.
Terrible, burning rage filled the place where her beating heart once lay, tearing through her body and exploding outward in all directions. Sylvia’s eyes turned blacker than the night sky, her pupils dilated to slits, and the once green irises flecked with her mother’s honey brown turned to molten gold. Her bones cracked and her skin burned as they stretched to accommodate her monstrous transformation. The beautiful black curls she had taken such care of in life burned away, replaced with a bright orange wreath of flame that moved on its own, defying the wind trying to whip the heated strands around her face. The hands clutching Liam to her chest shifted, growing twice their normal size and now tipped with obsidian claws sharp as a filet knife.
Sylvia met Michael’s shocked gaze as he pulled back, the tips of his pristine wings singed by the fury born fire bursting from her new demon body. The deafening roar that tore from her throat was as much from the searing pain as it was anger. She relished the spark of fear in the archangel’s eyes, and as the pain became too much and her vision turned dark, Sylvia made a vow.
She would return every ounce of pain he had caused her tenfold, force him to watch as she took away everything dear to him, and then Sylvia would delight in his cries for mercy, before she ripped him apart.