Page 71 of Faith and Damnation

One voice became five, which became twenty. A chorus of disembodied sounds rising up as the specters swarmed together once more, running circles around us like sharks surrounding chum. One of them had tried to hurt me, which meant they all could, but I wasn’t afraid of them.

I felt sorry for them.

“We have to help them,” I said, “Theyneedour help.”

“I admire your nobility,” said Abaddon, “But we cannot help them.”

I struggled against his hold, limbs and wings pumping awkwardly to force his release of me. The howling was so intense, I couldn’t even hear myself think. I had to scream in order for Abaddon to hear me. “We can’t just leave them!”

Abaddon released me, his wings curling around his shoulders sheltering me from the swirling chaos. “This is another defense mechanism,” he roared, “Or an errant piece of programming that has been corrupted over time! You are being tricked!”

“What if I’m not? What if they’re real people, stuck here and suffering?”

“If that is so, then the best thing we can do is reach the Sacred Machinery and restart it!”

I knew he was right, but I felt… compelled. I had to help these poor creatures, thesesouls.Butwhat could I do for them? Therehadto be something I could do. My heart couldn’t bear leaving them like this.

It couldn’t.

“Sarakiel!” he yelled. “We must make for the valley, it will protect us from these winds and these tormented spirits.Sarakiel!”

I had started to walk away from him, into the wall of wind and wraiths. He grabbed my arm to stop me, but I didn’t turn to face him. “They won’t leave us alone…” I said, as I pulled my arm from his grasp, opened my wings slightly, and used them to leap toward the specters.

I didn’t have a plan, but something told me this was the right thing to do.

I was surrounded by voices, by people in pain, begging for help and relief. I could feel them all around me, fingers, hands, all reaching for me, trying to grab hold but passing right through. My body was going cold, numb. Past the point of numb. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think.

The world around me started going dark again. I felt weak and I realized that these ghosts were draining my Light, feeding off it like the Wretched would. I could hear Abaddon shout my name in the distance, but it sounded so far away. I fell to the ground, conscious but barely able to hold myself up.

When they had taken their fill of Light, they dissipated, but the woman stayed, looking more solid than she had the last time she formed. She cupped my face in her ghostly hands, and I heard her say “Thank you,” before she broke into mist and was carried away by the now gentle breeze.

I felt solid arms close in around me. Abaddon. He drew my body to him, picking me up once more, and began to walk slowly, trying not to jostle me too much as he moved. With my head on his bare chest, I could hear his heartbeat. It wasn’t quick, or hurried, or panicked, but calm. A steady, rhythmic kind of beating that was easy to focus on.

I shut my eyes and listened, allowing the warmth of his skin and his Light to bring me back from the brink. Slowly, I cameback to myself, and saw that Abaddon had carried me all the way into the valley. When he noticed I was awake, he stopped and slowly let me down, making sure I was able to carry my own weight before letting go of me entirely. As he stepped away, I realized the Light I was being bathed in and regenerated by was coming from his chest, as if his heart was the focal point.

It dimmed, then faded.

Abaddon looked down at me, his blue, mercurial eyes fixed on mine. “Sarakiel,” he said, his voice low and soft. “Are you alright?”

I looked up at him and swallowed the ball in my throat. I didn’t reply. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to his lips. It was a quick, gentle kiss, but a meaningful one. “Thank you,” I whispered against his lips.

“You do not have to thank me.”

“I do. Thank you, Abaddon.”

Abaddon’s jaw tightened. He nodded. “We have reached the valley, and the bridge is nearby.”

I looked toward the other end of the valley and was glad to see that what had looked like a steep climb didn’t seem so bad now that we were up close. It would still be a climb, but nowhere near as vertical. The bridge, though, was another story; up close it definitely looked worse, its power flickering and sputtering. “Will that hold?” I asked.

Abaddon considered the bridge before giving me a confident smile and responding, “We will find out.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SARAKIEL

We arrived at the failing Light bridge at what should have been dusk, but the sky looked exactly the same as when we arrived—another sign of just how bad things were without the Machinery. At first, I was glad I didn’t have to traverse the bridge in the dark, but the little light the clouds allowed through only served to deepen the chasm we found ourselves staring into.

It was a yawning mouth of pitch black that looked ready to swallow whole anything that fell into it. The feeling I got in the pit of my stomach as we neared its edge was sickening, like my insides were twisting themselves into tight knots. It was wide, too—spanning almost the entire horizon. Any thoughts of gliding to safety if we fell were wiped out by its vastness; the lightning and ice shards would destroy our wings long before we made it.

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