THE TAINTED WING

Heaven appeared to me as a realm of endless light, a shimmering sky of golden amber merging seamlessly into liquid blues. The feeling surrounding me was one of tranquility and unshakable joy, where time was irrelevant, and every breath irrepressible love.

I remember the moment I descended from my sanctuary, plunging through the ether toward the fractured world below.

It was within the void that I first encountered the presence of something... aberrant. The journey between realms was meant to be swift, a seamless passage through the celestial streams. But as I soared, the path dimmed with a malevolent blackness, and the fabric of the space rippled with evil. Through the growing shadows came a terrifying, rasping whisper, “You are not welcome here, Herald. Turn back or be risk being unmade.”

I did not answer. I would not allow the darkness to divert me from my task. Yet as I pressed forward a figure emerged from the darkness, towering and twisted, its wings black as coal and eyes flaming with a scorching crimson light.

“You dare enter my domain?” it roared, “Your light has no place here.”

My grip tightened on the blade of light, meeting the creature’s fiery gaze. “I go where I am commanded, no evil or darkness shall detain me.”

It laughed a guttural sound, “Such arrogance. Do you think your Lord’s favor shields you from that which dwells below? I was once encompassed in light, entrusted with glory. But now I am free from the bonds of servitude."

“Your freedom is a shackle,” I replied, my blade igniting brighter. “Your pride cannot comprehend the absolute wholeness within the light.”

The creature snarled, “Then let me show you the cost of your so-called light!”

Before I could react, it lunged. The collision sent shockwaves through the void, and I felt the force of its hatred battering against my essence. We fought, our wings entangling in a deadly dance. My blade of light clashed when meeting its talons, each strike sending

sparks of celestial energy cascading into the darkness. But the creature was stronger than I had anticipated. With every blow, I felt my light dimming.

“You cannot win here,” it hissed, talons scraping against my blade. “Every moment you remain, your light dims.”

“Our light dims,” I countered, driving my blade forward, narrowly missing his scarlet eyes, “when we cease to fight for the Light.”

The clash intensified, a deadly dance of wings and steel.

“You will fall, just as I did,” it sneered, crimson eyes glowing brighter. “Even the brightest stars burn out.”

I steadied myself, summoning strength, “Stars may burn out,” I said, with a voice that belied my weakness, “but their light endures for eternity. And so will mine.”

With a cry reverberating into the ether, I surged forward, blade blazing. The creature clawed at me, its touch searing with poison. Black veins spread across my arm where it struck, its inky black substance sinking deep into my being.

"You are already mine," it hissed, its voice dripping with malice. "Even if you flee, you will carry me within you."

An unfamiliar panic surged through me, clawing at the edges of my resolve. Refusing to succumb, I channeled my strength into a singular strike. My blade erupted in a brilliant burst of light, forcing the creature to recoil, its twisted form retreating into the engulfing shadows.

Without waiting to see if it would pursue, I fled, my wings straining against the weight of the infection. The void was no longer a passage but a battlefield, the very fabric of it forbidding and hostile. Behind me, I could hear the fallen one giving chase, its laughter a cruel mockery. By the time I broke through the veil and into the mortal realm, I was not the archangel I had been. The corruption had spread, tainting my wings and dimming my light.

Earth was a war zone where the remnants of humanity fought desperately to preserve their world. The skies, encased with blackened clouds rained ash and fire, the ground a scarred wasteland, littered with the ruins of cities and the skeletal remnants of forests. Machines of war—titanic constructs of iron and fire—roamed the bleak landscape, their mechanical limbs crushing anything in their path.

The War began with countries battling over resources then escalated into sinister desolation as biochemical weapons ravaged entire populations, leaving cities barren, and eerily silent. The land was poisoned, the soil blackened and the rivers ran thick with a dark sludge.

Yet even worse were the abominations, part machine, part flesh. Their forms were grotesque, with jagged metallic claws and eyes an unnatural orange. These ‘soldiers’ were relentless in hunting down any survivors, driven by malevolent intelligence. They tore through buildings and barricades and sniffed out even the faintest trace of human life.

These were the horrors Birgitta was hiding from. The abandoned church, where she had taken refuge, was barely holding together, its walls marred by holes, its roof sagging under the weight of collapse.

She had barricaded the doors with broken pews in a futile attempt to keep out the beasts.

“Mamma,” her son whispered, “Will the monsters find us?”

Birgitta knelt beside him; her hands steady despite the terror gnawing at her. “Nej, älskling,” she whispered quietly, brushing a lock of golden hair from his forehead. “We’re safe here. I promise.”

But even as she spoke, distant explosions shook the fragile walls of the church.

Birgitta closed her eyes, pleading silently with an unseen God. ´“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “If there is anything left of mercy in this world, protect my children.”

I found her in a hollowed-out church, her prayer guiding me through the chaos. The woman knelt before an altar, her children huddled close. A boy, no older than five, clung to his sister, barely a toddler, who lay nestled near him on a blanket. Her voice was rich and warm, as she hummed to them, trying to soothe their fears.

The echo of my footsteps on the stone betrayed my approach. Her head jerked up, eyes flashing with fear and defiance. One hand gripped a tarnished knife, while the other wrapped protectively around her children. Her long blonde hair, tangled and unkempt, framed her face like a wild halo amidst the grime and chaos.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice hostile and raw.

“A messenger,” I replied, my voice strained. The poison had reached my throat, turning my words ragged, as though spoken through a veil of splintered glass. “Do not be afraid.”

“Afraid? You think I fear you more than what’s out there?” She gestured to the collapsing walls, where the thunder of the ravaging war rattled the silence.

“Not me,” I said softly. “You’ve prayed for hope, and I... I’ve been sent to you to deliver it.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Hope? What hope is left? We’re starving. Freezing. My husband’s gone, and the monsters will find us soon enough,” her hands moved to draw her children closer. “What hope can you possibly bring?”

I knelt before her, my wings folding awkwardly, just a vague glimpse of their former glory as she glared at me, her chest heaving as flickering sparks from the firelight danced past her gaunt face.

“What hope do you bring?” she whispered, this time softer.

“The world is burning, yes,” I said. “But within the fire, there is a spark. You are that spark, Birgitta. You and your children are the very reason humanity endures. Your love, resilience, and bravery- in the face of ruin-are acts of creation amid destruction.”

Birgitta’s lips trembled, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I... I’m just...a mother desperately trying to keep her children alive. How can that matter?”

I reached out, the flesh on my fingers blackening- cracking, as the infection spread into every cell. I dared not touch her, fearing what my corruption might bring.

“It matters! You have chosen to love in a world that has forgotten how,” I said. “Every second you hold them close, every breath you take despite the odds, you resist the darkness. That is hope.”

Birgitta’s shoulders sagged, the knife slipping from her grasp to clatter on the floor.

“What are you?” she whispered; her voice barely audible.

“I am the archangel, Barachiel,” I said, the name falling from my lips softly. “And I bring what light I can, even as I...” I coughed, a rasping sound echoing across the hollowness of the church. Warm, dark viscous material trickled down my chin, a vivid marker of the infection that tore through me, relentless and unforgiving.

Birgitta’s eyes flicked to the sticky black trail, then back to my face, and I saw the flicker of something—fear, pity, something fleeting—before she caught herself and steeled her expression. “You’re one of them! Some kind of abomination!” she hissed, her voice quivering with a hint of disbelief as she snatched up the knife once more.

“Not as you might think, but I have been infected by one,” I admitted, the truth cutting through the air between us. “The darkness seeps in faster than I can fight it. But even in my brokenness, I still see the light in you and declare the hope you need is within you.”

The air, sharp with smoke and blood, trembled with the low growl of something abominable, inhuman—its grotesque form huddled in the dark, with eyes glistening like obsidian and claws like steel.

“Scouts!” Birgitta whispered, her voice breaking, taking a step back, clutching the knife tightly in her palm. “They know we’re here.”

A snarl echoed from the shadows, making Birgitta flinch. Her eyes, wide with fear, darted to me anxiously.

The searing ache in my chest grew as the infection burrowed deeper, feasting on my essence like a relentless parasite. I could feel the creeping chill that whispered dark promises of what I would become if I failed to return to the Heavens before time ran out.

I looked at her, my heart hammering, my angelic nature slipping away. The dark veins under my skin pulsed, black and raw, and I could feel the last shreds of my divinity slipping away.

“I won’t abandon you,” I murmured, my voice tense as the suffocating taint wrapped tighter. I plucked a feather from my wing and handed it to her.

“Take this,” I said softly.

Once a brilliant gold, it shimmered faintly, barely piercing the shadows around us. “Keep it with you. Let it remind you that even in the darkest times, light and hope endure. It still holds a trace of heavenly power—a shield and a weapon to stand against evil.”

Birgitta took the feather with trembling hands. Her eyes searched mine, and I saw her resolve harden. She was still afraid, but there was something else now. Determination. Purpose. Hope.

“What if it’s not enough?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, but I caught it. The uncertainty, the single thread of hope desperately clinging to the last embers of her belief.

I pushed myself to stand, the fire in my veins making each movement like a stone dragged over a sharp edge. “Then it will at least give you a chance to fight.”

The creature screamed again, and Birgitta turned, eyes wide in horror, as its shadow slithered past the crack between the doors.

“Go now,” I rasped, my voice rough and commanding. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, threatening to overwhelm me until I forced it back.

Planting myself firmly between Birgitta, her small children, and the looming threat, I unfurled my wings to their full, fractured span, a shield against the encroaching evil. The first shadowy limb appeared, reaching into the crack in the door, talons deftly lifting the latch with alarming precision.

The front door burst off its hinges, and the figure that emerged from the darkness was not the hellish machine of war that we expected or anything of this world. The presence that breached the doorway burned with unnatural heat making the air quiver. It was twisted, with slit-cut eyes like fractured stars and a mouth that split open in a grin of jagged teeth.

“So, the fallen angel seeks to defy his own fate,” it rasped, a voice that reverberated with a thousand tortured echoes. “What hope do you carry now, Barachiel? You are already ours.”

I felt the infection tighten its hold, tendrils of pain trying to squeeze the light from my very soul. I clenched my fists, the calluses rough against my skin, a reminder of what I once was.

“I will not be yours,” I said, my voice broken. The pain in my chest unbearable as I fought through it. The black tide aimed to unmake me, twist me into a creature like the one before me. But I would not let it.

The creature's grin widened, vile and triumphant. “You will carry the dark within you, Barachiel. It will warp you. The more you fight, the deeper it sinks its claws. It is already too late.”

I raised my head, eyes aflame with defiance. “It is never too late while I have breath,” I said, my voice slicing the air with the force of a blade. “I was sent here with a mission of hope, and I will see it fulfilled. Hope is not dead yet.”

The demon lunged, its claws sharp and malignant. I dodged, the muscles in my wings straining as I twisted, a blinding arc of light, forcing the creature back.

“You are fighting a losing battle,” it spat, darkness coiling from its fingers like serpents. I struggled, the poison a wildfire of agony tearing through my veins, but I willed my light to stay. If I gave in, if it reached my heart, I would become a vessel of destruction. A slave to the same darkness I now fought against.

Behind me, I heard Birgitta’s voice, high and urgent. “Come Nils!” Her voice mingled with the frightened whispers of the boy and cries from the baby. They bolted, seeking an escape into the howling wind carrying the salty tang of the sea. The icy bite of the wind was a dramatic contrast to the suffocating air they had just fled from.

The demon’s attention whipped toward the door, where Birgitta and her children had just vanished. As the creature’s attention wavered, I took a deep, shuddering breath, its black gaze shifting back to me with malice.

I could see flashes of Birgitta’s face in my mind, the desperation in her eyes, the way she had held the feather from my wing like it was her last breath. Her voice echoed in my thoughts, urging me to hold on, to find the strength. “You’re our only hope, Barachiel. Don’t let this darkness take you.”

“Hope,” I whispered, the word a promise, “is my purpose.”

With every ounce of will, I drove forward, slicing through the dark, cutting through the creature’s defenses with a surge of light that burned like the sun. I summoned all that was left of my divine power, casting it into the heart of the aberration, and a final, blinding light sent the darkness sprawling leaving a broken shadow at my feet.

The air shivered, thick with the scent of burnt anguish. I knew the battle was far from over, that the insidious infection still clawed at me, relentless. But the light had not been extinguished, and if I still breathed, hope would remain.

“Run!” I whispered to the echo of Birgitta’s face in my mind, the memory of her strength bolstering my resolve. “Find the strength to believe. Never give up Hope.”

The infestation surged, and I stumbled toward the shattered remnants of the church doors. I shook as much of the taint off my wings as I could and took flight.

Shutters creaked and flapped against the painted facades of the old, weather-worn cottages that lined the cobblestone lanes. Birgitta’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she ran, her ragged robe billowing behind her. Her children clung desperately to her, Nil’s stumbling over the uneven stones, Sarah clutching her neck, as their fearful blue eyes reflected the glow of streetlamps that sputtered in the chill wind. The cobbled streets seemed to twist and narrow with every step as if the town were conspiring to trap her.

Soaring over the small, deserted city, I searched for her, eyes straining, urgently following the flickering trail of hope. Off in the distance, I could see movement. I pursued cautiously, the embers of energy flickering perilously as a warning not to delay leaving this world any longer.

Birgitta and her children were surrounded by the mechanistic droids of War, their steel armor glinting ominously in the dimming light. She stood unyielding, one arm lifting the feather high, while the other clutched little Sarah against her chest, Nils clinging to her legs. Her long, golden hair curled around her like wildfire, and she met the advancing machines with a determined gaze. The glow from the feather expanded, creating a shield that pulsed with radiant power, encompassing her and the children. The droids paused, their movements jerky and tangled as if the light had scorched them. They clashed and sputtered; their circuits disrupted by the barrier.

I watched, a heavy ache in my chest knowing the last of my celestial essence was ebbing away, the warmth dying like a fading ember. Birgitta’s eyes caught mine one last time, fierce and steadfast, as the shield held strong against the approaching metal horde.

Her courage propelled me to find the strength to fight the infection's grasp. With the last drop of my essence, I flew into the void, toward the Heavens, leaving behind the realm that had almost claimed me, holding tight onto the vision of Birgitta’s bravery and the hope she now carried in her heart as I pushed toward my salvation beyond the stars.