Liera The Fallen Angel

She lies in her mother’s warm, sheltering arms. She cannot see, but the angelic mother’s face, with a bright smile shinning on her infant child. Suddenly, Screams. A flash of a blade. Blood. Her mother’s grip on her fades, and the physical bond is obstructed. Now she on a strange, scorching carpet with no warmth or smoothness, what so ever. She opens her mouth to scream, but no one hears the infant’s cries. Her tiny, blue eyes open, a look of her beautiful angelic mother, soaked in her own blood.  An ambulance rushes to rescue the victim of death, but of no prevail...

Leira gazes up at the sky, as if looking to the heavens to swoop down and rescue her from the dark. Many a time has she looked there, waiting for the angels to come for her. Her white shot eyes, silver hair, and pale skin would cause you to think her dead. She wanders alone, in her thin, white dress. Bare feet reveal rips, tears, and cuts. All people look down on her, saying, “She is but a passing shadow, looming in the fog…she doesn’t know who she is, or was.” Always, had she felt these people right, she didn’t know anything of her past.

Whenever she thought about her past, all that came to mind was a bright, blurry light, with a sudden flash. Then, a sudden red image splattered all over her mind’s view point. Then, a horrid, blaring siren rings in her ears. After that, nothing. All blank. This blur of the mind wasn’t much help in discovering her past. Among other things whirling through her head, one subject stuck. It was her parents. Sometimes, she would ponder why her parents didn’t want her. Were they trying to save her? Or was it that they wanted to be rid of her? It came to her mind many times, yet never could she find or produce a logic answer.

Other issues in her life crept upon her each dull, gray morning. Living at an orphanage. Yes, she suffered all that is said in the stories: Maltreatment, beatings, hunger, and unbelievable chores and tasks. The mistress of the orphanage was Madam La’ paresh, of whom the name fits. It would seem as if someone in the tragic time of “Parish” caught her attention in the most unpleasant way. Most of the time, you would see the children scrubbing floors (all 40 of them), washing the great, large windows, and polishing the tables. Meal time was a pitiful sight. After saying grace, the girls had a piece of moldy bread and 2 week old ham. Many decent girls were there, ready for friendships, but Leira held no such interest.

There was one boy who used to live here, shila, that actually came close to defrosting her cold heart. He was only 12 years old, 3 years beneath her. His parents were killed by robbers, in the confusion, he managed to escape. Ever since, he was scarred with his parents’ death, and regretful he couldn‘t save them. Regretful for his cowardly deed in the face of danger. He was all alone in this world. Just like she was. Months passed until she found him weeping in the corner. Looking down at the poor soul, she discovered compassion. She knelt down in front of him, and starred. Finally she wrapped her arms to form a comforting embrace. He held tight to the kind stranger, and dried his eyes a bit. Then replied, “…thank you…ma’am…”. At that moment, her heart melted a little.

Unfortunately, fate snatched her friend by the throat, and took him. At 2:53, in the morning, Shila Colman died. First, numbness in the left arm, then a great pain in his chest, and following this, his death. Men came to carry him away to the cemetery. Their ghastly, black cloaks were like shadows, sulking through the corridors. As they passed her by, the melted heart froze over, again. Sneaking out of the house the next day, she found herself walking to the cemetery, flowers in her hand. “How could you abandon me? You left me to die…like all of them…”she uttered. She rushed off, letting the flowers drop to the ground.

It wasn’t until she had gone all the way to the next city that she realized, there was no turning back now. “Surely,”, She thought, “ If I am to return now, Madam La’ Paresh will have my head…” . Just thinking of the horrid touch of the whip, or the scorching pain of the club, gave her chills. Madam was not as gentle as she appeared. Not at all.

A sudden blare of laughter sent her charging off into a nearby bar. There she saw an unruly man with a long, ruff beard, and dirty finger nails. It didn’t make sense. She heard something worth her attention, didn‘t she? Or was it her senses playing games? Well, she looked back at the man. He was sitting a few yards away at a table, drinking. Nothing about him interested her, but as she made way to the door, a man shouted, “Hey, Markson! What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”. She turned, and gasped… That was her father! - Her last name was given to the orphanage mistress by the man who brought her there, her father, Alester Markson - He saw her, as well, and dashed out of the room.

She caught him at an alley, maybe a few blocks away from the store. “Get back…” He warned. She resisted his warning and stepped forward. “F-Father?” she asked. “What the hell do you want?” he replied. “…W-Where is Mother?” she questioned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he persisted. “…I-I know you! 15 years ago! You were the man who brought me to the orphanage! You were the one they told me was my father!” she cried. “…I should’ve taken the hard way out…I shouldn’t of-” He stopped. He looked straight into her eyes, and soon they widened in disbelief. A thick layer of glaze covered her white shot eyes, as she darted away from the alley.

Running, running, running forever to escape the truth. Legs in an adrenalin rush, something followed her, she was so frantic she couldn’t tell what. What was it that clung to her, refusing to leave? She had covered 3 blocks so far, and was now spinning around the corner to another sidewalk. Strength declined, and she collapsed next to a deserted library‘s front door. The library was a shaggy place with broken windows, dirty walls, dusty looking stairs, and a door standing ajar and unlocked.

As she sat there, her mind was scanning everything that had happened. Not a robber, not a natural disaster, not a car, not a heart attack,…but her father! A wet face starred into the blue abyss we know as sky; unable to believe, unable to take in anything she had heard. A shock had gone through her at her father’s last sentence, and even now, it was still there. First question: Why? Why would he murder the life that bore him a beautiful child of god’s creation? Maybe, just maybe, there wasn’t a god. She lost all belief at that point.

Gazing up at the sky, as she had done when she was younger. Suddenly, she saw a shine reflect off the broken windows. Leira got up, and opened the hanging door. Her senses sharpened as she approached it, slowly and cautiously. She picked it up quick, and saw it was a kunai knife. A thought long forgotten, hidden for years came to her. It was a decision she would later regret. She sat herself down, her eyes over flowed with tears that fell from her cheeks, and onto the knife. Her eyes analyzed the knife another minute and then…Her hands flew up, the kunai placed firmly in her right hand. The kunai raced its sharp edges across her throat! …Eyes wide, coughing sent blood, blurring vision, unbearable pain shocked into her! Last few breaths, and then…

Her eyelids lifted. She was falling, falling into a pit of fire. Strong whips of gold fire tried to slash against her. Each time they swung, they barely missed her, making it closer with each effort. What was this place, this fiery dungeon? It crossed her mind, this was the pit of hell just above its horrid gates of blood red! Leira was even more troubled by the clothes she wore that weren‘t hers. A long, slender black dress, with silver and gray trimmings and adjustments. Shortened, hair colored grey with a sort of silver gloss. Slippers that matched the majesty of the dress. Wings of dark feathers at her back made flight and hovers possible. Lastly, an interesting sword. It had a grey handle with a deep, purple jewel on it, a black blade that had a weird, unfamiliar white writing on the surface. What ever its powers, she knew naught, but at this moment she felt the need to find a way out.

Pushing against the weight of hell with her wings, proved nothing. After several more failed attempts, she thought perhaps she would discover the swords power by wielding it. A sudden thought came to her head: “Black Heart’s Revenge”. Without even thinking about it, she raised the great sword, a look of determination struck the fire. Now she shouted with all might, “Black Heart’s Revenge!”. Black clouds shaped as hearts, merged together to spin around, an hurl an attack straight at the wall! An earth-shattering crash was heard, and in the wall, a bright light came from out side. Revealing a hole.

Although it seemed over, a hoard of demons sprang from the fire! They flew close to her side at the west and starred, raising their lips to reveal sharp fangs. Doom was not in her mind, but replaced by courage and determination. She held the sword firmly, tightening her grip. Using a regular slashing method, Leira charged forth, killing any living thing to dare cross her path. The foul scent of demon flesh filled the air, finally, they were all dead. Through the hole she went, though many reinforcements nearly had her throat.

Leira was in a shining room of pure white. With odd, circular crystals on the wall. She recalled what a wise woman had once told her on the street. She had begged her for food, and the wise woman granted this, adding a tale. “There is a place, beyond the gates of hell,”, she had explained, “Where many a soul is kept. The souls are held inside clear, white glowing crystals, called Soul Orbs. They are found inside the Soul Chamber, in the middle of Heaven and Hell. If a soul is taken to one of the 2 worlds, Heaven and Hell, It will come to life again, and exist there, in that world, forever. Only few can actually take a soul, and live to tell the tale. You see, to take it to one of the worlds, you must pass a tunnel called, the Cavern of Flesh and Blood. It has walls of flesh, blood, and veins, and, you can’t pass if you have been to hell or have committed sin without Purgatory. So, as you can see, There is not much chance of soul revision.”.

The wise woman had also told Leira, that anyone who has a family member dead, their bloodline, will feel an aura that connects them. Leira felt that aura, a line of power sent her to one soul crystal, her mother’s. She wept her joyous tears of happiness, while she knelt beside the soul orb. Carefully, her hands gripped it, and quickly snatched it away. She got back up, and smiled. “Soon,”, she thought, “We will be together in heaven!”. And she made her way out of the Chamber. However, she did not heed the wise woman’s warning, to never leave to a world if you have entered hell, or committed sin. Another of her regrets would this mistake become.

Each step was a mistake as she entered the cavern. She looked around, it was just as the wise woman had described it: flesh, blood, and veins covered whatever wall or foundation the cavern possessed. She stepped swift and silently through the cavern, not trusting the dormant looking walls that she passed.

Everything was going well, until…Suddenly, a wall of dried up veins shifted outward, and pulled her to the wall with the veins. Struggling to be free only made the pressure of the thin veins grow. All the things that she had done wrong, every sin she committed, every regret that she had, flashed before her mind. The wall’s veins bulged, and started to squeeze Leira even harder. A sudden gash, sinking deeper and deeper into her skin, thrusts the soul orb to the ground. An ear-piercing scream. Its pure, white surface is smeared with blood. The soul inside opens its eyes…