Page 219 of Crimson Promises
In darkest depths and heavenly arc,
This angel's touch will leave its mark.
Part of me couldn’t help but wonder what the words I uttered meant. Would I be bound to the path destiny and the fates had put in front of me? Or would I be able to forge my own path?
Once I was done, Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with victory. Ben wore the look of defeat. The shadows around me disappeared.
A few moments passed when it started.
A strange warmth began to bloom beneath my shoulder blades. It started as a gentle tingling, like a secret whispered to my bones.
The warmth intensified, spreading outward from a central point. It was as though an invisible hand was delicately tracing the contours of my shoulder blades. I gasped, my fingers instinctively reaching for the source of this strange sensation.
And then, with a rush of feeling that left me breathless, they emerged—delicate and iridescent feathers unfurled from beneath my skin.
I could hardly believe my eyes as I stared at the wings that had burst forth from my very being. They were unlike anything I had ever imagined. They seemed to pulse with a life of their own as though they were an extension of my soul.
A rush of emotions swept over me as I tentatively flexed my new appendages. It was a mixture of awe and wonder. I had always known that I was different, but this...this was beyond anything I could have imagined.
As the wings continued to unfurl, I realized they were a physical symbol of the power within me. They reminded me that I was not just a pawn but a force to be reckoned with, capable of defying fate and forging my path.
I was no longer just Aurora, the mortal caught in a web of destiny—I was Aurora, the angel with wings that could defy the very heavens themselves. And I was going to make Lucifer regret the moment he took me. If he thought this meant that I would be his wife and rule by his side, he had another thing coming.
There was officially a new player on the board, and no one would use me for a moment longer.
I turned towards Ben, waiting to see his reaction.
He couldn’t tease me about how he had to carry extra baggage anymore.
Something was wrong. His form lay still on the ground, unmoving, his eyes closed as if in deep slumber. But it wasn't the peaceful sleep of a weary traveler; it was a lifeless stillness.
I rushed to his side, my steps quick and unsteady. His face was pale, far paler than any angelic being should be, and his chest barely rose and fell with each shallow breath. Panic clawed at the edges of my consciousness as I reached out to touch his cheek, praying for any sign of life.
"Ben," I whispered, my voice trembling with fear. There was no response, no flicker of recognition in his closed eyes. His skin felt unnaturally cold to the touch, as if the very essence of his warmth had been drained away.
I looked frantically around the Observatory, hoping for some clue, some sign of what had transpired.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I cradled Ben's lifeless form in my arms.
I whipped my head towards Lucifer. “What happened? I said whatever you wanted me to say. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I moved my hand over Ben, trying to figure out how to make him better. But there was no response, and the weight of despair settled over me like a suffocating shroud.
“Fix him!” I bellowed.
“I thought he would be fine. It seems the spell was too far gone when you accepted.” He took a step forward. “I can’t.”
“Fine. I will then.”
What good was having these healing powers and controlling life and death if I couldn’t use them to save Ben?
I reached inward, like he had taught me, and I didn’t have to go far. Ben once said that my power outbursts over the years came out during moments of heightened emotions. The well of my power was deep, and I would drain myself dry and use every ounce of it to save him.
It surged through me like a living thing. My hands hovered above Ben's still body, fingers trembling with anticipation. I closed my eyes, attempting to focus, to channel my magic into him. I pictured the golden threads of life weaving their way through his form, knitting together the broken pieces.
But as I poured my energy into him, my frustration grew. There was no response, no glimmer of change. Ben remained motionless, his chest unmoving, his skin still as porcelain.
Tears welled in my eyes as I continued to pour my energy into him.
"Why?" I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. "Why won't you work?"
