Chapter 43: Confrontation

The bedroom door closed with a dull click.

Alvia turned on Elara at once, voice low and shaking with fury.

“Enough. Whatever is inside you just turned a former Archangel into a dog. You don’t even understand what you’re doing. That thing is not power. It’s a curse.”

Elara leaned against the wall, rubbing her face with both hands.

“How would you know what it did?”

“Because I have eyes. Now you’re going to tell me exactly what that thing is. No more hiding it from me.”

Elara pushed off the wall and paced once, twice, then stopped with a tired exhale.

“She calls herself the Goddess of Ashes. She came into my dream last night. We spoke.”

Alvia’s mouth opened and closed. “A… a goddess? There’s only one Goddess—the Goddess of Light. Anything else is a lie. That thing is tricking you—”

“She doesn’t even know who the Goddess of Light is,” Elara cut in. “She talked about the ancient gods. Plural. The old ones. I didn’t understand everything.”

Alvia let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Ancient gods? If they existed they’d be here with us. They’re gone. They don’t exist.”

“Don’t be so certain. She told me most of them were weakened or destroyed when they sealed her.”

Alvia stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Listen to yourself. You’re talking about this like it’s real. You’re saying that thing inside you was sealed by multiple gods and goddesses, and that those same ancient gods were wiped out just to lock her away? You’ve lost your mind. Think. If she were that powerful and that ancient, even a single leak of the Goddess of Light’s power erased her army. She’s lying. Whatever is inside you is probably a curse Lilith planted, or something else entirely. We need to kill Amara. The way she is now she’ll draw every eye on the road.”

Elara’s voice hardened.

“Killing her right now does us no good. If she dies her soul returns to the Goddess. I will not risk that.”

She moved toward the door. Alvia stepped in front of her, eyes sharp.

“Wait. She was naked out there. I heard sounds. What did you do to her? What did the two of you do? There were moans.”

Elara’s gaze slid away.

“I don’t remember clearly. I wasn’t in control. The thing inside me must have whipped her. The rats had eaten half her legs. Then the legs grew back.”

Alvia’s face went bloodless.

“Whipped? Legs eaten? Legs regenerated? Are you talking nonsense or did you actually dream all that?”

“I’m not dreaming. When I first went down she was still spitting insults. Then she saw what the rats had done and lost her mind from the pain. The more she suffered, the more I slipped. When I came back to myself she had changed… and she had a new pair of legs. I think the legs were cut off first.”

Alvia stood frozen for a long second.

“…And you put a collar on her and led her out.”

“Yes. So she couldn’t run. Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t have those kinds of tastes.”

Elara reached for the door again. Alvia caught her arm.

“Stay behind me.”

She grabbed the nearest blanket, opened the door first, and stepped out. Amara was still kneeling where the lead allowed, head bowed, naked and marked. The moment Alvia saw her she drove a sharp kick into the fallen angel’s side.

“Lie down, you piece of filth.”

Amara folded without resistance. Alvia threw the blanket over her, covering everything.

“Elara, don’t look. Go find something for her to wear. Quickly.”

Elara blinked, still half in a daze. “There are no spare clothes.”

Alvia’s gaze drifted over the edge of the blanket—the pure white skin, the empty space where wings should have been. A complicated mix of irritation and something darker moved across her face. She spoke in a flat, tired voice.

“This thing isn’t even an angel anymore. I can’t feel a scrap of power in her. She’s lost herself completely. Whatever is inside you broke her mind. You said she had to pay for what she did. Let’s sell her at a slave market. At least we’ll get some coin out of it.”

Amara pushed herself up on her elbows beneath the blanket, voice cracking into desperate sobs.

“Please—my lady—please don’t sell me at a slave market—please—”

Tears spilled down her face in bright, glittering tracks. The blanket slipped. Pale skin, the curve of breasts, the long unmarked legs that had been rebuilt only hours earlier—all of it came into view. Elara’s eyes caught and held for a moment too long. Something in her chest pulled tight. Even fallen, even broken, Amara was still an angel. The beauty of it landed like a blow.

Alvia saw the direction of that stare.

She kicked Amara flat again and yanked the blanket up with enough force to sting.

“This blanket stays on. Do you understand?”

Amara nodded frantically, eyes wide with fear.

Alvia turned on Elara, voice sharp.

“Stop standing there staring. We have things to do. We can’t stay here forever.”

“…Right.”

Alvia moved through the house, found a roll of sturdy undyed cloth, and began cutting and stitching with quick, angry motions. Elara watched for a while.

“What are you doing?”

“Making clothes for our Archangel,” Alvia answered without looking up. “Thanks to you.”

Elara’s shoulders slumped.

“I’ve been through terrible things. I know that. But when she begs like that… I can’t kill her. I don’t want to.”

Alvia’s needle paused.

“Because you’re not strong enough.”

Elara’s head snapped up.

“You’ve changed. You were the one trying to convince me not to torture her—‘we’re not like them, we’re different.’ What changed?”

Alvia set the cloth down hard.

“I said we should end her suffering and kill her so she wouldn’t be a burden. How was I supposed to know you would cut her legs off, grow them back, and then whip her until her back was a sheet of blood? You’re not listening. Look what’s happening. It’s already started poisoning you. If we had killed her none of this would be happening. And that look you gave her body just now was not a normal look. Were you that affected?”

The last words came out sharp and almost wild.

Elara stared at her.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with her body? Are you jealous of her over me?”

Alvia’s ears flushed, but her voice stayed hard.

“Why would I be jealous of her? I’m trying to protect you. So you don’t get influenced. So you don’t get enchanted.”

“Influenced? Enchanted? That bitch burned my father. She did everything she did to us. And now you’re saying that to me? I trusted you. I actually trusted you.”

The room went silent.

Alvia dragged both hands down her face.

“Everything is a mess. My head is a mess. We don’t know a single solid thing. Am I supposed to deal with the thing inside you, or the broken fallen angel outside, or the Demon Queen hunting you, or the Goddess herself? Do you think any of this is normal? I’m telling you it isn’t. The best option is to go to the Goddess of Light. She already summoned you. If anyone can save us, it’s her. We have no place in this rotten world. And we kill the Archangel and be done with it.”

Elara’s answer was immediate and cold.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Her own angel tried to burn us on a stake. The Goddess is our enemy. Don’t look for help from her. Offer rejected.”

Alvia closed her eyes for a second, then exhaled hard.

“…Fine.”

She finished the last stitches with a pulse of magic. The result was simple but serviceable: a long-sleeved tunic of plain cloth and a pair of loose trousers that would pass in most human towns. She also set aside a basic undershift.

“Stay here,” she told Elara. “Don’t come out. I’m going to dress the fallen angel.”

Elara opened her mouth, then simply nodded, expression blank.

Alvia stepped outside and shut the door firmly. Amara was still under the blanket. Alvia unclipped the leather collar and tossed it aside.

“On your feet.”

Amara rose carefully, keeping the blanket wrapped around herself like a shield. Alvia shoved the undershift and trousers into her hands.

“Put these on. Now.”

Amara obeyed with shaking fingers. When she was dressed, Alvia grabbed her by the upper arm hard enough to bruise and pinned her against the wall of the house. Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper.

“Don’t you ever try to strip again. Do you understand me?”

Amara nodded once, eyes down.

“Good.”

Alvia opened the door.

“You can come out now.”

Elara stepped into the main room and looked at the empty place where the collar had been.

“Why did you take the collar off? What if she runs?”

“A collar draws too much attention on the road.”

Elara accepted that with a short nod. “Where are we going, then?”

“We’ll slip into the main human capital in secret.”

“That’s ridiculous. I need to break the seals. I need my power back.”

Alvia’s voice was flat.

“You don’t have any power. Chasing something that isn’t there is pointless.”

“But—”

“The conversation is over.”

Elara’s jaw tightened. She stepped past Alvia, closed her hand around Amara’s wrist, and pulled the fallen angel closer.

“You’re coming with me. Don’t even think about running. From now on you’ll receive one hundred lashes every day for the sins you’ve committed.”

Alvia’s composure finally cracked.

“Have you completely lost your mind? Enough!”

Elara didn’t look at her.

“Stay out of what happens between me and the angel.”

Alvia’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She stared at the two of them for a long moment, white hair falling across a face tight with anger and something close to despair. Then she forced the words out through clenched teeth.

“…Fine. I won’t interfere.”

She turned toward the door.

“We’re leaving.”