4. The Heart of Revolution

"That's it!" Captain Emerson raved as he stormed into the coffeehouse. "I'm detaining him!"

"You don't mean that." Pal Burns said, waving his hands dismissively.

"You old codger!" the captain said. "He's an actual criminal now—"

Suddenly, the old man raised a hand to silence the other.

"Captain," he said softly. "Do you feel that?"

"Are you ignoring me—?!"

Pal looked upward, as if in thought. "An immense presence has entered the city..."

Frozen whispers were deafening as Sir Smith walked the streets of Apocrypha City.

"What is an Angel doing this far from Heaven?"

It was true. He saw them. He heard their concerns.

"What does he want with us?!"

He could hear their fears.

"Mommy, what's that glowing circle over his head?"

He kept his eyes forward as he walked on.

"Don't look at it, honey! It's a sin to look!"

He could hear their cries for help, their desperate pleas as he walked under their fearful gazes. Despite his stoic glare, his mind burned aflame.

All of this...

 ...this world...

 ...I feel it dying...

Philos awoke to soreness covering his body. 

"Brother!" Uri said in a relieved tone.

"What?" Philos said, seeing Joseph and Alphonso also by his bedside. "Where am I?"

"In the clinic." Joseph said with a puff of his cigarette. "You got your ass kicked, man."

Memories of what had happened suddenly filled Philos' mind.

"Astrid!" he said as he jolted himself upright. "Vylet! Where are they?!"

The room was silent. Philos looked around the room.

"They were..." Uri said softly, "taken...away..."

Philos fell backward onto the bed. Searing pain filled his body, causing him to shriek in alarm.

"Lay down." Alphonso said, sitting by the window and stretching his legs. "You got hurt bad, man. The nurse said it was the worst burn she'd ever seen and..."

"Why didn't it heal?" Philos said as he looked at his charred arm.

"I don't know, brother..." Uri's voice was soft. "Usually we heal from burns, but this one...it just seems...different."

Philos winced as he raised up his arm once more.

"It's burned to a crisp, Philos." Alphonso said. "It's pitch-black!"

"I can't move it at all."

"The skin is probably dead." Joseph spoke up. "Nurse said it burned it all the way to the bone."

"And I don't think Captain Emerson is too happy either..." Uri said, scratching his head. "He said—"

"M-mister V-Vesper?" The nurse opened the door, her breath quickening. The boys could see the sweat on her forehead as her hands shook violently upon the door handle. "Y-you h-have a g-guest."

"Thank you." The Angel's deep voice said as he entered the room. "You may leave now, madame."

Philos froze as the Angel stood before him. It was as if ice had filled his hand and feet.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost, boy," the Angel said, smirking. "Do not worry, though. I am not the messenger you think me to be." He turned to Uri. "And you are his brother, I presume."

"I a-am..."

"Good." The Angel bowed. "You see, dear Vesper brothers, I am Sir Smith, and I have come a long way to see you."

"Listen," Joseph spoke up, pulling a gun from his coat. "I don't know what you're trying to sell, but you better get to it, Smithy."

The Angel glared.

"Well, Vespers. It seems you are in good company, if not brutish."

"Why are you here?" Philos' voice was hard and curt.

"I am here," Sir Smith began, "to tell you a story lost to time. It is the story that will bring salvation to the world. It is the story of your bloodline."

Uri spoke up. "I don't understand?"

"Tell me," Sir Smith said, pointing at Uri and Philos. "What are your names?"

"Uri."

"I'm Philos."

"Philos. Uri." He began, "in your veins flows the blood of Vespira, the Blessed One. Within you two lies the Birthright of the Starblood."

The room was silent, filled with nothing but confusion and awe.

"I will tell you the tale that will undo this world..."

The Cosmic Tree,

Yggdrasil, has always been.

No one knows why,

But the tree willed

And bore a fruit.

And thus from this fruit

A being was born,

Though he did not know

Himself from where he came,

But it made sense.

Prime Mover,

Precursor,

Enchanter,

Starbreather.

All of these names denote

Him: the Supreme God, One.

For some reason,

There came a time

When One decided to create.

And so the Great Enchanter

Called forth from the soil

Of Yggdrasil.

From it, beings were born.

These were the first created,

The Angels.

They were happy for a time,

But soon they cried out:

'Make us like the Aeons! 

Give us mighty power,

That we might be strong!'

The Starbreather saw his

Creation and felt

Compassion.

With a flick of his wrist,

He enchanted their blood,

Giving them mighty magics

And the power of the Halo.

Time passed, and soon

One decided to create again.

Once more, he called forth

From the soil of the Tree.

From the dirt came the

Animals: beasts of the

Air, land, and sea.

They were happy for a time,

But then they began to cry:

'Give us the forms of the

Angels, that we might be

Beautiful!'

Seeing this,

One felt compassion once more.

With his powers,

He gave them them

The forms of men.

Once again, One sat to create.

From the soil he formed

The Darklings, the blue Elves.

They were happy for a time,

But they soon cried out:

'Unlock our minds,

That we shall know

more than anyone!'

Once more,

One felt compassion.

With his might,

He gave them

The secrets of the World.

One last time,

The Starbreather sat to create.

From the soil came humans.

They were frail and weak,

And they too cried out

For power.

This deeply saddened

The Starbreather.

'All of my creations 

Only want power!'

He cried as he hid himself

In the garden.

Only one

Dared enter the

Garden: a small

Human.

Her name was 'Vespira.'

With great passion, 

She fell and wept

At the Starbreather's feet.

'Thank you,'

She cried.

'Thank you for giving me life!'

At the sight of this,

The great god was

Vastly moved.

'I will give you 

The greatest power

Of all...'

He took her hand and said:

"'I will breathe the stars into your veins.'"

"I don't understand what this means?" Philos said. "Why should we trust you?"

The Angel sighed. "I cannot force you to trust me, but I can certainly give you aid as a...peace offering. Hold out your burned arm."

"What are you—?" Philos yelped, pain shooting through his body as Sir Smith took his arm in his hand.

"I am an Angel," he began. "Every Angel is gifted with a unique magical ability known as a 'Given Power.'"

Suddenly, the burn began to fade away, ashes falling from Philos' arm and collecting onto the floor as the young man's arm returned to normal.

"Your Starblood won't heal magical wounds. But, do not worry. My Given Power allows me to revert the timeline of living things when I touch them."

"Woah!" Alphonso blurted out, jumping from his seat.

"So that's an Angel's power?" Joseph scoffed, the gun still ready in his hand.

"That's incredible!" Uri said, wide-eyed.

Philos raised his hand, extending it and wiggling his fingers, speechless."

"What do you want from me?" he finally said.

Sir Smith donned a grave visage, his eyes piercing daggers that matched his hard, intense disposition.

"Philos. Uri." He paused. "I want you to activate your Starblood and help me end the Morning Star Kingdom."

"You want us..." Uri's voice shook.

"To defeat the Angels?" Philos finished his younger brother's sentence, his voice trilling just the same.

"Hey," Joseph spoke up, "aren't you an Angel yourself? Why do you wanna end your own people? What's there to gain?"

"The power of this world is unbalanced. The Outskirts hold a treaty with the Morning Star Kingdom—the land beyond the Golden Sea. But inside the Kingdom, the other races—humans, Beastfolk, Darklings—are enslaved and used as tools, treated less than subhuman for the benefit of the Angelic race. But there is a greater problem," he continued. "The ruler of the Morning Star Kingdom is a demented, insane Angelic king. He is no ordinary Angel. Though he himself holds immense power, it is the object he holds that allows him to rule the world as a god. With its power, he has sealed away the Aeons and thus stripped all might from the Starbreather. His name..."

Tension swam in the room like a thick and brumous phantom as the eyes of the boys locked onto the Angel.

"...is Azazel."

Alphonse raised an eyebrow. "And you think Philos and Uri can beat this guy?"

"I believe that, if they can harness the power of the Birthright of Vespira, they might be able to rise to the challenge."

Both Joseph and Alphonso turned their eyes to the other two young men. The two scions of Vespira held fearful expressions. They could tell that Philos and Uri's heads were spinning.

"Sir Smith." Philos finally spoke up. "I don't know how I can do anything that you've asked of me and my little brother. But." He looked up, his reddish eyes meeting the other's blue-gray gaze. "I need to trust you. We need to trust you."

The Angel bowed.

"Then I take your trust. For the sake of the world!"

"But." Philos said, looking at Alphonso, then Joseph, then Uri, "we can't just run off. We can't just run away."

"I don't understand..."

"Yeah." Uri said. "We have something we have to do."

"I have a deal, Sir Smith." Philos' voice was low, wistful. He held up his healed hand. "The man who burned me took away two of our friends. I don't know what he plans to do with them, but we want to save them. We need to save them. And..."

"We want you to help us." Joseph said with a smile.

"Joseph..." Philos looked up at the smiling young man.

"What?" His cat-ears twitching as he blew out smoke. "That's what you were going to say, right?"

"We gotta give this Adonai punk a clobberin'!" Alphonso cracked his knuckles.

"We have to save them!" Uri nodded. "We're a family!"

Philos smirked. "And we will definitely trust you more! If you help save our friends!"

The four young men held the Angel's gaze, each rife with fire and resolve. Sir Smith stood silent, his face an image of pale shock and disbelief. Suddenly, he burst into deep laughter, his voice carrying down the hallway and causing several nurses to jump as they passed by and scurried off.

"I see..." the Angel said as he wiped a tear from his eye. Above his head, his ethereal blue halo cast an unearthly light upon the walls. "I see..."

"What's so funny, huh, guy?" Alphonso said, irritable.

"It's just..." Sir Smith paused. "I expected to find the two Children of Vespira, but I didn't expect to find them in such good, impressive company." A soft smirk crossed his face, almost belying the stoic air of who he was when he entered the room.

"Family, you say?" Sir Smith asked. "Well. I believe a favor might be exchanged for a favor. I will do it, young men! I will help you save your friends, but you must rise to my challenge in recompense."

Sir Smith bowed and turned, reaching for the door.

"We leave tomorrow."

"We'll be at the coffee shop!" Uri said. "It's over by the—"

"I know," the Angel said as closed the door. "I know where to find it."

The lights within Burns' Coffeehouse were dim. This made sense, as the staff were away—whether in the hospital with Philos or vanished like Vylet. Inside, Pal Burns sat at the seat by the window, sipping his cappuccino and humming to himself. Worry had filled his mind for a while, but when he felt that presence walk the streets, his worries somehow...melted away.

The presence he felt...there was no mistaking it.

Revolution walked the streets today.

"It's been a while, Drew," a deep voice said, followed by the sound of a door closing. "You should know better than to leave the door unlocked, if you're really going to close the shop for a day."

"The name's 'Pal' now. And I knew you'd come here," the old man laughed softly. He turned to see Sir Smith walking toward him. "Tell me, Angel, what name do you go by these days?"

"Sir Smith."

"Ooh!" Pal jeered. "That one sounds prestigious."

Sir Smith scowled. "You're as irritating as I remember."

"Well, if you've come for my Starblood, I hate to disappoint you but my magic is as old and weak as I am."

"Whether your magic was weak or not is of no consequence to me, Drew." The Angel sat across from the other man. In the darkness of the shop, the angelic halo lit the dimness. "Even if you still had power, your body is too old to wield it."

"Hey," Pal laughed and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not ancient...yet."

Sir Smith said nothing.

"You know who they're trying to save, don't you?" Pal said, breaking the still silence.

"I think I do."

"Then you know who and what she is, don't you?"

Sir Smith raised his hand, opened it, then closed it.

"I am very old, Drew. Time changes us, undoes us, outlives us. We make our choices and live with our consequences. We live our lives." He exhaled deeply. "But we cannot control to whom we are born. It is irrelevant. Our hearts define us. No more. No less."

"You've changed, Sir Smith." Pal smirked. "I think the new name has gone to your head!"

The Angel frowned. "You're an old fool...Pal."

The garden was odd. Trees with blue, transparent leaves seemed to leave a sparkling, dust-like mist on the ground below them. Darkness prevailed, the only light to illuminate the strange flora was the small beams from the two crescent moons that seemed to orbit this unique place at a rather quickened speed. But it wasn't unique to the being that dwelt within the ethereal trees.

No. To him, everything seemed just as it should.

The figure moved like a ghost through the forest, floating slightly off the ground, his stark red eyes set forward. Through his spectral skin, tiny stars seemed to swirl among his violet body. He floated onward, his eyes set upon the giant tree in the center of the garden, a marvelous plant so large that it seemed to extend into the garden's pitch-black, star-speckled sky. The small being knew he would never tire, so he instead moved onward toward the tree. Life was strange without his strength, and the Starbreather found himself thinking about the events that happened two thousand years ago. Of course, it was obvious that Azazel had bested him, turned the Angels away in their greed and pride, but...

He thought of one in particular...

He thought of the one that now knew the way...

He wondered if Sir Smith had found Vespira's beloved bloodline.

The thought of Vespira brought a smile to his face, his jagged teeth showing brilliantly even in the faintness of the moonbeams. She was the only hope—or rather, her offspring were. He wondered what they were like. The feeling had come to him recently, and the Starbreather knew that if Smith was successful in awakening their abilities, the Starbreather would be able to link them to his divine power...

Which wasn't much these days, what with the Aeons sealed away. Lost in thought, he found himself at the roots of the marvelous Yggdrasil.

Oh Azazel... the thought ran through his mind. Why did you fall away? Why did you do such a horrible thing?

He levitated to the top of one of the gargantuan roots and sat.

Oh Yggdrasil...why must your world die so?