Chapter 775: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [15]

"Blood Moon War?" Amael repeated.

Michael smiled.

"Don’t look at me like that. That innocent act doesn’t suit you." He tilted his head slightly. "I’m certain you’ve heard whispers of what happened in Sancta Vedelia."

"Not really," Amael said, his expression perfectly blank. "I’d love to know what happened there, though. Truly."

The smile disappeared from Michael’s face.

"One of Merithra’s creations has started a war," he said.

Amael raised an eyebrow. "Is Princess Merithra herself behind it? I wouldn’t have thought she cared much about Sancta Vedelia, even despite her hand in its founding."

"Likely not," Michael replied, his tone sharpening. "But she won’t lift a finger to undo what she’s unleashed, either. As things stand, Sancta Vedelia now lies beneath the Blood Moon Spell, a forbidden spell of her own devising. And the entire island bleeds under it."

Amael held his gaze, expression calm. "Then why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be reaching out to Princess Merithra directly?"

"She is unreachable," Michael said, a bit irritated. "As always. Hiding somewhere, doing as she pleases, indifferent to the consequences she leaves in her wake."

"Surely one of her sisters could track her down," Amael offered, keeping his tone light, conversational, all while quietly trying to steer whatever scheme Michael was constructing as far away from himself as possible.

Michael’s eyes narrowed immediately. "You dare suggest we call upon Raphiel for something like this?"

"I wouldn’t dream of summoning the Supreme Goddess of Eden herself," Amael said, allowing a faint smile. "But last I checked, Merithra has other sisters. Other Khaos Princesses who might be willing to reach out."

Michael dismissed the idea with a slow, disdainful scoff. "It doesn’t matter. The Gods don’t involve themselves in humanity’s petty squabbles."

"With respect," Amael said, "I’d argue it’s already past the point of squabbling. You said it yourself, a Forbidden Spell has been cast. One of Merithra’s own. That hardly sounds like something that resolves itself."

"It isn’t Merithra’s original spell in its full form," Michael corrected. "A derivative. A copy. The effect is contained, it covers only Sancta Vedelia."

Only, Amael thought, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.

He knew exactly what Sancta Vedelia was. Despite its name, it was no island, it was a continent in its own right, vast and dense, stretching further than most kingdoms could dream of. The idea that a single spell could swallow it whole, draping it beneath a cursed moon, sent a quiet unease crawling down the back of his neck. And the woman capable of replicating such a working, even imperfectly was not someone ordinary by any measure.

"I can see you understand the gravity," Michael said, watching him with quiet satisfaction. "Good. Because you’re going to join that war."

"Absolutely not," Amael said, already turning away.

"You will," Michael said. "Anox is there."

Amael stopped.

"You mean Nox’s partner?" He asked, not turning around.

"Her son," Michael corrected. "Sirius Anox."

Amael turned slowly, disbelief written plainly across his face for once. "One of Lucifer Morningstar’s Generals is there and your plan is to throw me into the middle of that war?"

"That is precisely the point," Michael said, and there was something almost gleeful in the composure of his voice. "Your presence there could draw out A-Nox herself. She is dangerous. A threat we’ve been unable to corner for some time. This may be our best chance to finally bring her down."

He looked genuinely pleased with himself. As though he had just unveiled the cleverest strategy in the history of divine warfare.

Amael stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled and carefully mouthed each word to make sure Michael could even read his lips.

"It is not happening, Lord Michael."

He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Are you truly that afraid?" Michael called after him, his voice rising. "Pathetic. Truly pathetic from the Vessel of Samael Eveningstar of all people. And you still want me to train you?"

"I asked you to train me," Amael said without breaking stride, "not to use me as live bait to lure out the most evil primordial Guardian Goddess out there."

"Do you think we would simply let you die out there?"

Amael paused just long enough to glance back over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling. "I’m almost touched by how protective you sound," he said, voice dripping with mockery. "Truly. It’s moving."

"You’re a coward, Amael," Michael said, his voice cold. "Disappointing, truly, from Nihil’s son of all people."

Amael stopped. He turned slowly, and when his eyes met Michael’s, the exhaustion in them had been replaced by something harder.

"Why don’t you use yourself as bait then?" he said. "Go on, lure A-Nox out yourself." He let the suggestion hang for a moment before tilting his head. "Oh, but wait. Neither A-Nox nor Lucifer cares enough about you to bother showing up." He smiled thinly. "In that case, I’d suggest Princess Raphiel. A Khaos Princess ought to make excellent bait, I imagine that would get a response."

Michael’s eyes darkened, his composure cracking just at the edges. "Do you wish to die?"

"That’s exactly the point!" Amael snapped. "I don’t! I wish to live. That’s all. If wanting to stay alive makes me a coward in your eyes, then I will wear that name proudly for the rest of my days."

He held Michael’s gaze one last second, long enough to make sure the words landed then turned and walked away, not hurrying, not looking back.

Behind him, Michael watched his retreating figure in silence. The coldness in his expression slowly settled into something far more unsettling than anger. A smile crept across his lips.

"So be it," he said softly to no one. "You leave me no choice."

***

The sky above was open and pale. Amael cut through it on his way back to Xenithia, the wind sharp against his face, and then he stopped mid-flight, hovering, and turned around with a small smile already forming.

A silver bird approached through the clouds.

Sleek and enormous.

A falcon whose feathers caught the light like polished moonstone, whose sharp eyes missed nothing.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come for a while yet, grandfather," Amael said.

The falcon slowed, gliding to a graceful halt in the air beside him. Horus regarded him with those silver eyes. "And I doubted you called me here for nothing," he replied.

Amael scratched the back of his neck. "Well... maybe not entirely nothing. I just wanted to talk."

A short, warm laugh escaped the falcon.

"Years go by," Horus said, "and you truly haven’t changed at all, have you, grandson?"

"What did you expect?" Amael replied quietly, the lightness in his voice fading slightly. "The man who’s supposed to be my father isn’t someone I can trust, not with something real. And I won’t burden my mother with this." He paused, looking out at the horizon rather than at Horus. "You’re the only one I can actually talk to about this."

It had always been this way. Long before Amael had grown into what he was now, even as a child, it was Horus he turned to when the weight became too heavy, Horus who had watched over him since the very first breath he drew. Not Nihil, with his cold distance and divine obligations. Not anyone else.

Horus was the father Amael had never been given.

"Tell me what’s troubling you," Horus said simply.

Amael was quiet for a moment.

"I don’t know exactly," he said at last, and something uncertain crossed his face. "Just a feeling I can’t shake. Like something is about to go terribly wrong, and I can’t see it yet."

"Does it concern Michael?"

"Maybe. Probably." He sighed. "I don’t know. But whatever it is, whoever comes, I need my mother safe. And the girls. That’s all I know for certain."

Horus was silent for a beat. "You gave one of my eyes to one of those girls," he said.

"I know." Amael gave a rueful smile. "Sorry about that, gramps."

"I gave them to protect you."

"I know that too." Amael glanced at him, the smile softening into something more honest. "I’m planning to give the other one to Sylvia."

Another long silence fell as the falcon stared at him.

"Why?" He asked at last.

Amael didn’t hesitate. "Because I love her," he said, with an honest smile. "I love both of them. And what I want, what I’ve always wanted is to actually live. Not survive. Live, with them, properly." He paused, and something somber moved beneath the surface of his expression. "But if something happens to me before I get that... I want them protected." He looked at Horus, and for just a moment he looked younger than he was. "What could protect them better than my grandfather’s eyes?"

Horus held his gaze for a long moment. The silver falcon said nothing right away but something shifted in those ancient eyes, something that might have been sorrow, or pride.

"If that is your wish," Horus said at the end.

"It is," Amael replied. "But grandfather. I am the Vessel of Samael Eveningstar. That name draws danger the way fire draws moths, and I’ve made peace with that." He met the silver falcon’s gaze "I will never forgive myself if something happens to my mother or to them because of what I carry. You know that." He held the gaze seriously. "Promise me. Promise me you’ll keep them safe. All of them."

Horus fell in a stronger silence.

Then he spread his great silver wings and lifted away without a word, climbing upward until his silhouette thinned against the pale sky and finally disappeared into the white.

Amael watched him go.

He didn’t call after him.

He simply watched for a while.

He turned away eventually, and his gaze drifted, toward the far edge of the horizon. Somewhere beyond the reach of sight, past the layered sky, Sancta Vedelia lay currently under the Blood Moon Spell. He couldn’t see it from here.

But he could feel it.

His hands curled slowly at his sides.

"Sirius," he muttered under his breath. "...Damn it."