Chapter 20

Saying farewells and hellos to new devils.

“Can I write to you?” Evangeline asked, both of them sitting in the car near the Skyport in Charleston, South Carolina. The port was nosey with people coming and going from the airships taking off and landing. There were traders and travelers, and might have been even a few heroes moving along the port. The chaos of the place reminded Evangeline of the block in New York City, but the smells were better here. All the food was cooked, and the spicy sauce was traded. There were a lot of sweet smells moving with all the people, but she wasn’t looking at any of them. She was playing with her hands, looking at the ticket to Omega City, the City in the Skies.

                “No,” Abel said, sitting next to her.

                “So, this is it?” Evangeline asked, looking up at him. She was still messed up from the beating, but she was healing fine. “I’m never going to see you again.”

                “Trust me,” he said, “it’s for the best.”

                She nodded with a few tears rolling down her sweet cheek.

                “You get going,” Abel ordered, “don’t want to miss -“

                She jumped at him, giving him a long hug and whispering how thankful she was for him and that one day, he would have to tell her the story of how he came back to life. Before he could utter a word, she kissed him on the cheek and got out of the car with a small traveling bag. He watched for a moment as she limped away into the sea of people. She didn’t look back at him, and Abel thought it was for the best. He put his hat back on, started the car, and went home to his wife and children.

                He always stopped at the end of the driveway before going up to the house to see the angel standing there and waiting. She nodded at him before he went moving up the road.

 

Mr. Crow dropped down into the woods back on the mountain, taking his last breath. He looked up at the blue sky, not understanding why this was the last of his life. He wanted to do so much with himself, but then again, no one who picked up the sword knew the length of their life before the point found them.

                It had been something his father told him when he was young.

                “You want to be a warrior, son?” His father asked the great shadow warrior of his tribe, the one who knew the doom song of the black moon and the last of his people, to teach the old ways to the old gods. Those old gods blessed their people with the skills to kill in the dark, but with those blessings also came healing for their people.

                The old tribes, the old Six Empires of the Old World, would seek out the shadow people to bring death to their enemies. There were always Six Empires in these lands; each tribe of this land called it something different, but Mr. Crow’s people called it Plotay, the Great Vast Land, and it was said all things would end in this land when great warriors come out of the sea.

                The white people came out of the sea, killing and changing the land, forcing Mr. Crow’s people back into the shadows. They took their old beliefs with them, and as he took his last breath, he dug his fingers into the dirt, feeling the living earth.

                He started to whisper the Pray of Fading Shadow, a prayer of the dying, as the light comes to destroy all shadows burning away the world. They believe when the end of the world happens, the sun will swallow the whole of the earth, and all the dark places shall be burned away.

                Mr. Crow wasn’t sure he would ever see the end, but he knew he would face the Great Bearer of Fire one day; he just hoped it would be later than sooner.

                The last of his prayers fell from his lips as the cold air around him devoured his life. He was close to stepping into the burning light when someone moved into the woods. He tried to lift his eyes to see all around him, but he stopped in the long shadow of the tree. The mighty oak before him and the bright green eyes flowering to life stepping out of the pool of darkness like water. She was a tall woman, naked as the day a baby was born, and her skin was dark like honey. She had roots wrapping around her heels, running up her legs and behind her back, almost blending into her hair, which was a mix of black and brown. Horse nettles were blooming in her hair while the seeds of the devil's trumpets fell from her hands before she stopped in front of Mr. Crow.

                She reached out, lifting his jaw to her smiling and dark face.

                “Are the goddess of the trees?” he asked.

                “I’m much more,” she whispered, leaning over and kissing him. She tasted of wine and honey. “Heaven has their hero; we want ours.”