Interlude 3.10: The Rise and Fall

In the sunprisons, Ennanis had told her a lot about her adventures, her missions in the undercloud. Narrated in that low voice of hers, Ennanis’ words were always quiet, only interrupted by the errant flutter of her wings—or by Jemi, who you couldn’t ever expect to really shut up. Whenever she did so, Jemi would receive the angel’s gentle chuckles in return. Or the quirk of a smile, on her young and smooth face, a golden pat of light where the lantern cast on her skin. Rose, gold, bronze. She’d been like a burgeoning flower, even back then, like the statue of a saint in the temple gardens. The sort of beauty a human ought to kneel before, offering rice and prayers.

Rubbing her eyes with her prison garb’s sleeves, even the chatty girl had quietened herself to listen to the angel speak.

The story went like this. At fifteen years old, Ennanis and the 52nd Division had been assigned to patrol a Kancha nobleclan’s quarters. This noble clan had been calling for more guards, for things had been going missing from their manor recently. The thefts had not been of much value—so far a string of false pearls, potatoes from the kitchen, so on—but the multiple infractions had made the clan concerned that the holes in their security would eventually lead up to a burglary of grander scale.

It was during guard duty that Ennanis finally picked up on the petty thief. The thief turned out to be a little, ratty-looking girl. She could have been Ennanis’ own age, but she looked much smaller. When caught by Ennanis, her sallow face paled in terror. On probing, she explained to Ennanis how she was just trying to feed her family back home, about her mother who had come down with illness, and her disabled brother who couldn’t work.

In response, Ennanis gave the girl her entire wallet, then helped her leave the manor unnoticed. The angel directed her to a support program where she could find an honest living.

The girl was indeed never seen again, and things stopped going missing from the manor. However, Ennanis’ actions had been caught on security tape. Outraged at the fact that an angel had assisted in the culprit’s escape, the Kancha clan refused to pay them for their work and blacklisted the 52nd Division for future hire.

“That must’ve made you very unpopular,” Jemi had remarked.

Yes—Ennanis’ comrades were understandably furious at her. This clan had promised them an excellent sum for guarding the house and offered additional rewards if they apprehended the thief. For Ennanis to aid someone so inconsequential, criminal, at the risk of her career was unthinkable. Any other angel would’ve been demoted to the ground.

“I don’t care about doing what’s popular,” Ennanis had replied. “I want to do what’s right.”

“Is that what’s right? Helping a crook? Even if she didn’t steal from that house again, she surely could’ve continued stealing from other houses. The spiel about sick parents and siblings is one of the oldest tricks in the book. The girl could’ve easily been lying.”

“Or, she might’ve been telling the truth,” Ennanis argued. “Angels are meant to protect people. Are we only meant to protect those who are well-off, those who have never had to stray from virtue? Are only unequivocally good people worthy of being helped? The ones who need it the most may not always be free of sin.” She paused. “The other angels don’t understand that, but that’s what I believe. I don’t care for their disapproval.”

“.......” Jemi was silent. Then, “You know, I’m envious of you.”

“Why’s that?”

“That you can go against the tide and not be drowned for it,” Jemi said. “It’s courageous, but it also takes privilege to do such a thing.”

Ennanis gave her a long look. “You think I do not drown?”

Jemi shrugged. “You’re a Warden now, aren’t you?”

“Standing on the shore doesn’t make you safe from the waves,” Ennanis said. “Yes, I’m privileged to be able to do the right thing. But someone has to. If I don’t do it, no one would.”

An idealist. A bleeding heart. People like her were bound to bleed themselves out until they croaked. Or, they’d get stabbed in the back by the very person they had taken pity on. Utterly stupid. Totally useless.

Yet, Jemi thought about what Ennanis had said for a long time. She thought:

How can someone be so strong, so beautiful, and yet so blindingly good?

How can someone like me even begin to look you in the eye?

Ennanis was perfect, pure—a blossom to be protected from corruption. That’s why Jemi was so revolted when Ennanis tried to reach out her, on that first night they found each other on the battlefield. Even after Jemi had killed her mentor and friend in front of her, and Ennanis had snapped—a year later, the angel started trying again. The angel did not speak out of pity. She really, genuinely, believed that Jemi could be good. Probably in the same way she had believed in that petty thief. But Jemi Garen was not such a person. The Cockatrice was not someone to be sympathised with like an innocent. It did not matter who she was doing it for or why she was doing it; blood on your hands was blood on your hands.

Jemi had been but a child back then, lashing out blindly at the world. Now, she was grown. She was someone of power. A Princess had the means to uphold some honour. What she did could not be called a thing like ‘kindness’.

Jemi had chosen this path over ten years ago. Maybe the curse within her had already begun to take root even before then.

“Jemisha,” her mother had told her. “Your father… chose this name for you. He thought it sounded beautiful. He wanted you to grow up happy.”

“There is a darkness within you.” A teacher had once gripped her palm and told her. “You must not let it take over you.”

But that’s what had happened anyway, hadn’t it?

~~~

The Beasts had been originally conceived as an army, and nothing more. However, with its founder being a goddess stranded in a moon of her own making, the actual operations of the Beasts usually depended on whoever Medusa’s right-hand man was at the time. Over a thousand years, the Beasts’ Den had cycled through countless Princesses and Princes and otherwise leaders.

As an illegal army, by virtue, it ran on shady business. In order to feed, clothe and arm its troops, it required large sums of money. To avoid suspicion and detection, it performed these transactions under the table with underground dealers. Though the Beasts were initially meant to fight only angels, the Beasts’ association the underbelly of human society had inevitable ripple-on effects to humans. Furthermore, as shapeshifters with ‘humanlike’ halves, Beasts with consciousnesses of their own naturally had their own desires. Lunaki refuels kept Beasts in the Den, but that didn’t ensure their loyalty to the cause, or their ability to keep their paws and claws to themselves. There had been many a Beast caught embezzling lunar funds to give themselves luxurious lives. Many times, the corrupt one was the leader themselves. But Medusa was perceptive like her father, and when she eventually found out she executed and replaced them. But that didn’t stop the Beasts’ Den from blooming into what it was today: a full-fledged criminal organisation.

When ruling over an organisation as massive and as dangerous as the Beasts, you had to keep every member on a tight leash. Over a thousand years, the Beasts’ Den had had all kinds of leaders. The gentle giants, the outright despots, greedy corrupts, bastions of righteousness. If there was any lesson to be learnt from them, it was that traitors had to be dealt with swiftly and brutally, made examples of. Or it was all too easy to lose control.

In the old days, the Cockatrice had culled those suspected of treason without a second thought. Over the years, her stance softened. “You’ll be ousted that way,” well-meaning Beasts on her side had told her.

But, in the end, it didn’t matter whether Jemi Garen had ruled them with an iron grip or with honeyed words. Some would always slip through the cracks. For no matter how strong a Beast was, there would come a day where someone better, or simply more dogged or underhanded, would come along. And when that day came, the throne would overturn, as surely as the sun rose day after day.

In that sense, no matter what she did, the Cockatrice was always doomed to fall.

~~~

The Graveyard Commander, Ennanis Zoleil, and the Cockatrice, Jemi Garen, spent many years orbiting each other.

For some, the age of twenties is the springtime of youth. The two women spent their spring embroiled in a stalemate of a war, drenching themselves in blood, only to lurch back up and continue stubbornly dancing on.

At times, they grew closer. At others, they grew distant. But they always, always, stayed entangled within each other’s gravities. They could never properly stay away from each other, act like any other opposing pair of war commanders should have. As two years turned to five turned to seven, they thought this fight might go on forever. Like the war between the moon and sun, gone on for a thousand tireless years.

Eight years later, though, this fight would end.

~~~

A/N: I just found out that FLHT is being uploaded to a variety of websites without my (the author's) consent. Please note that this story is being uploaded officially for free to NovelPhoenix, Tapas, Royal Road and Honeyfeed. If you are reading on any other website, please support the original platforms!

-snowlily54