Perhaps, Dark thought, surveying his surroundings, this is a lost cause.

He didn't say it out loud--Jax would bolt at the slightest excuse--but he certainly wouldn't mind leaving this place a little early. A slight chill crept up his spine, and he found himself glancing about, searching for movement that wasn't there.

The city was still. Not a soul breathed, or even moved, within its boundaries. The only life in the city besides Dark and Jax were the weeds and vines working to retake the village, miniscule insects, and small rodents creeping about the abandoned buildings, soft. clicking footsteps too quiet to be heard above the two men.

An unreal silence gripped the village, vast and stlifing, muffling any attempt to break it. Even the wind seemed fearful to disturb the silence; the air laid over the village heavy and stagnant, leaving the ivy leaves hanging limp and motionless.

Aside from the bits of plant life starting their slow takeover, the houses were well-kept, facades clean and organized, as if the owner would be back that evening.

They never would, of course.

The neatness made sense--it hadn't been that long since disaster ravaged the village. Hopefully a short enough time for someone to still be lingering.

"M-master Dark." Jax finally dared to break the silence, though his voice was still faint and hesitant. He flinched the moment the words sounded, as if he had broken some great law by breaking the silence.

"What is it?" Dark cast a side glance at Jax. His apprentice was scared senseless, countenance not unlike a cornered animal. His entire body was tense, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, and his wide eyes flitted about the village, searching for imaginary threats. How silly; he knew that Dark could sense if something was moving toward them.

Yet, hadn't Dark still been nervous, despite possessing the magic?

"I--I think we should leave." His words were quite certain despite his demeanor.

"Sorry, Jax, but not yet," answered Dark. "We have to search this place first."

"With all respect, sir," ventured Jax in a whisper, "I don't think we'll find anybody here. Look at it!" He threw a wild hand at the empty buildings, the hollow streets. "Everybody's either died or escaped. Who would still be here?"

"Those too unwell to leave."

Jax's eyebrows pulled together in a half confused, half worried expression. "But, Master Dark, that would mean they were abandoned..."

"Correct." In the corner of his eye, Dark glimpsed a shadow pass over Jax's face. "You know well the evils angels drive us to."

Jax didn't answer, merely dropped his head. His worry had been overshadowed by sadness, it seemed, and he now trained his gaze squarely at the street below them. The sadness was a good start, a prerequisite for hatred, then conviction. If Jax could push forward, move on to the next steps, perhaps he could finally muster the strength to slay an angel.

Yet he couldn't. He had the potential to be a great slayer, filled with as much determination as Dark, yet he remained anchored at the first step. It was incredibly frustrating.

Jax sighed. "I...I still don't think anyone could survive."

"Perhaps," mused Dark, "but we've already traveled all the way here. I want to at least search before leaving."

Jax kicked a stray rock and watched it clatter down an alley.

After a few more minutes of walking, they arrived at their destination: a looming church near the center of the town. Disproportionately large compared to the village, it towered over every other building, a grand monument of worship. Tenacious strands of ivy climbed a few feet up the walls, but there was no telling how long it'd take for them to finally reach its pointed belltower.

Dark stopped at the staircase leading up to the front entrance, a grand set of wooden double doors set under a soaring arch. In his mind's eye he could picture a bustling crowd of the devout clustering around the doors, eager to enter the church and shower praise and admiration upon the angels.

Dark's stomach turned at the thought. The angels didn't deserve such praise. After all, even though the denizens of this village had loved them so, what did they give in return? A plague. They sent a plagu, and destroyed the livelihood of everyone who lived here.

It was a disgusting, tragic betrayal, and was the perfect scenario for creating the conviction needed to join Dark on his quest. The greater the love, the greater the hatred after heartbreak, afterall.

Dark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jax, understanding Dark's internet, scurried a few feet away, footsteps growing quieter. Dark let the blackness wash over him and focused on his surroundings. The still, cool air. The well-worn stone under his fingertips. The faint scent of rot in the air. The deafening silence.

His magic bubbled up, and he cast out his awareness, blanketing the town with a thin web. This would be the most efficient way to determine if any stragglers lingered in these empty streets. Focusing his mind, he searched.

Nothing.

The town was a void, lacking anything resembling human life. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff; just beyond his toes laid a gaping pit devoid of light, and he was swaying treacherously, at danger of being pulled into it's vacuous depths. Panic sparked up within him, accelerating his heartbeat.

Only the solid, bright flame of Jax's life nearby anchored him. He threw out a wild, desperate grab at it, grasping onto it with all his strength. He clung to it for a few moments, recovering from his brief panic. Jax wasn't going anywhere. Dark could fall back onto him.

Steeling his nerves, he drifted away from Jax's life and searched the village again. He searched in wide, desperate sweeps, hoping with all his might that he could find any spark of life. He didn't want to spend any more time in this void than necessary.

And there it was--a flicker.

So faint, it was almost unreal, perhaps an illusion created by his panicked, desperate mind. But he had to try. He latched onto the flicker and jumped to his feet, holding on tight even as the sight of the village flooded his mind. He wasn't losing this.

He set off in the flicker's direction; Jax's footsteps hurried after him. Though the flicker has halfway across town, it only took them a few minutes to reach at Dark's brisk pace. They stopped in front of a house, identical to the others.

"This one."

The door was unlocked. A quick search of the upper floors proved nothing--just empty room after empty room. All small, more personal items had been taken in the occupants' flight from the village, leaving only large, dusty pieces of furniture sitting alone. Dark, expected them to be empty, though--the signal was clear, though weak, and he could pinpoint its exact location.

"Look for a basement."

"Right here, Master Dark!"

Dark made his way to Jax, who was standing in front of a rickety door tucked in the back of the door. Upon opening it, it revealed steep stairs descending into pitch black. Jax balked and took a few steps back, but Dark marched right down.

He turned a sharp corner and almost crashed into a door. Faint amber light seeped from underneath it. Dark's heart skipped a beat. It was near, near.

He threw open the door and stepped into a sparsely furnished, candlelit room. A closet by the door, as well as a nightstand and bed tucked in the opposite corner. The candle stood on the nightstand, the flame wavering and flickering quite similarly to the spark of light--constantly threatening to snuff out.

And there was a human head, poking out from underneath the bed's blankets.

Dark made his way to the bedside and leaned over it, examining the man lying on it. He was so still that others might have thought him dead, but there was a spark of light there, weak and wavering.

The man's eyes slid open.

"Who's...there?" He voice was faint and raspy, an eerie whisper that sent a chill up Dark's spine. He didn't appear to be concerned at the unexpected visitor--either he was quite bold, or was simply so far gone that he didn't care.

"My name is Dark. I'm here to help."

"Help...?" echoed the man. He let out a ghoulish, dry scoff. "I'm at death's door...Dark." Indeed, he appeared half-dead already. His face was sallow and pale, and his hollow brown eyes were sunken. Greasy brown hair fell in tangles on his face.

Dark crouched by the bed. "Don't say that. Tell me--why are you here alone?"

"Alone..." The sick man's eyes slid shut, and, for a heart-stopping moment, Dark thought the man had died. But his eyes opened once again, and they glittered with anger. "I'll tell you what happened." His words were edged with bitterness.

"They died...my family." The brief spark of anger vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by an immense, unfathomable despair. His eyes gazed up, past any physical object, perhaps viewing some intangible fragment of the past. "My parents, my brother, my sisters, and my closest friends...many of my other friends escaped, but they clearly weren't friends after all, because they left me." Again, a bitter edge to his voice, thin, cracked lips pulling into a scowl.

There was something. Anger, which could lead to conviction, determination. He has a chance. "And then?"

"Somehow, the plague missed me. Even though my entire family--" He broke off into a series of rasping coughs, so weak they were merely wheezes. "At the time...I wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. The family of my friend took me in. We--I was going to escape--get out of this hell--but a day before, I fell ill."

The man titled his had bad and let out a bitter, wheezing laugh. "Of course it was silly of me to think I had been saved while my family had not. I had always been slotted to die with them--a cruel fate, really. I'd already been infected--the symptoms just hadn't shown."

The man, in a surprisingly fast movement, twisted his neck and fixed Dark under a piercing stare. Such intensity burned in his eyes that it temporarily stunned Dark. "And," he hissed, "do you know what that 'friend' did next?"

It took Dark a few moments to regain his wits. "Wh-what?"

"Left me," spat the man, lips curled back in a snarl. "They packed up, stuffed me in their basement, and left. Left me to rot and die in this basement, alone. Damn them--I hope they rot in hell. Damn the heavens--what did we do to deserve this plague, this suffering?" The man broke of into a another coughing fit. "Damn it all--it's disgustingly unfair--and all I can do is lay here and die and think about it!"

His outburst seemed to have exhausted him--he lay here, gasping for breath, head tilted back.

"But that's not the case." Dark leaned forward, possessed by a not unsimilar vigor. He could save this man, give him a purpose, help him--and he held immense conviction, to boot. "You can get revenge!"

"Revenge?" scoffed the man. "Against what? The heavens? Sorry to break it to you, but they're untouchable."

"You don't think what they did was right, do you?"

"Of course not." The man scoffed again, as if the very idea was laughably. "That's what everybody told me, though. 'We're part of a plan.' 'This is our destiny.' Maybe, at one point, I agreed. But this--this"--a raspy cough punctuated his point--"is too far. I'm no sheep--this is wrong, plain and simple. But even if I think that, know that, it's still useless. You know why? Because even if I curse and hate and spite them to my death, the heavens won't budge an inch. As much as it disgusts me, humans don't have any power."

"You're wrong," hissed Dark. "We can change this. The heavens can be punished."

The dying man looked at Dark like he was insane. "What exactly do you mean?"

"The angels," said Dark, once again seized by passion. "The angels are at fault. The angels are the ones who sent the plague upon the village. They are evil, twisted beings that live only to see humans suffer. And, most importantly, they are mortal. I have seen them, spoke with them, killed them! They can be punished, I swear, and if you join me, you can get revenge for the wrongs they've done--all of them. You can avenge your family, your friends."

Though the man's furrowed brow and tight frown scream skepticism, there was an unmistake tinge of hope in his features, softening his expressions and brightening his eyes. But it was gone in a moment, promptly squashed out--if his story was true, then he knew the pain of having his hopes crushed. "Quite frankly, I don't believe you. Is there something you can provide that will prove you're not clinically insane?"

Dark bobbed his head. "Understandable, understandable. My young apprentice Jax here"--he gestured to the back of the room, were Jax had crept down, watching the conversation silently--"can attest to having seen the angels. Seen me kill them."

Jax started, caught off-guard by the sudden spotlight. After Dark shot him an encouraging smile, he spoke. "Um, yes. They're real. Dark's killed quite a few. And, you know, he's got magic, too!"

The man raised an eyebrow and turned back to Dark. "Magic, he says. Care to explain that?"

"All anges wield magic--that's what they use to wreak havoc among us. But I also possess magic. It's a special angel-slaying magic that manifested after the angels murdered my parents. It's my cause to put an end to their wrongdoings, and I would be honored if you'd join me."

The man chuckled. "You sound crazier by the second. But"--there was a glint in his eye"--if I were to go with you, would you truly be able to save me?"

"Of course."

Once again, the glimmer of hope was swiftly extinguished. "I doubt it," he rasped. "Over half this town fell to the plague. How could you cure me? Anyway, you would just fall ill yourself."

"The angels continue to disgust me," muttered Dark. "That's wrong. There's a vaccination, you see. The people of your town refused it--I can't remember exactly the reason. Either the heavens forbid it, or they wanted to accept their fate. Hardly anyone outside of this town fell ill."

"It was avoidable." The words were flat. The man fixed his gaze on the ceiling. "And the cure...?"

"Recently developed. I imagine a great number of the townspeople left to get it." Dark leaned onto the bed. "We can save you. It's very possible. You don't even have to join us. Just let us save you, and you can live as you please."

The man's eyes slid shut, and he scrunched up his face, as if he was struggling to hold back any trace of hope. When he opened his eyes, his face was flat, but there was still a glimmer in his sunken eyes. "Consider me interested. Take me out of here, and I'll consider your offer."

"Thank you," breathed Dark. "May I ask your name?"

"Hugh Thorne." With considerable effort, the man pushed himself into a sitting position. He was hunched over and gasping for breath, but his lips twitched up into a small smirk at the act. "Will you be able to provide me concrete proof of your angels once we're out of here?"

"Absolutely," said Dark. "If you give me about a week, I'm sure we an find a real angel, in the flesh, to show you. And with that, I hope you'll consider my offer. I swear that, if you accept, you'll be able to get revenge for all the wrongs the angels have dealt you."

"One more thing," said Hugh. "I'm not interesting in this 'revenge' business you're describing. No, I'm above that. You see, what I'm interested in is justice."

***

Dark pinned the writhing angels' arms behind his back and dragged him to the front of the small cabin. The angel let out another cry and redoubled his efforts, but Dark planted his feet and held steady. He spun and faced Hugh. "This," he declared, "is an angel."

Hugh, leaning on the cabin's doorframe, raised his eyebrows. "That looks like an ordinary man."

"I assure you," said Dark, "he's not. Just watch." He reached out with his magic and felt the angels' magic, burning fiercely bright, fanned by panic and desperation. A wisp of uncertainty stirred within Dark; could he effectively extinguish this in a single blow? But there was no other option--angels didn't come around every day, and he needed to convince Hugh now.

Steeling his resolve, he proceeded with the plan.

Dark turned so the angel was facing the front of the cabin, and then, ever so slightly, loosened his grip on the angel's wrists. With Dark behind him, Jax to the left, and Hugh to the right (whom the angel could only assume was a threat) there was only one way to escape: up.

Great white wings burst into existence, spreading outward and smacking Dark in the face. He loosened his grip a bit more, and the angel wrenched his hands from Dark's grip, leapt into the air, and beat his wings, gaining fast height.

Dark took a moment to make sure Hugh had witnessed the sight, then clamped down on the angel's magic.

The angel beat his wings for one last time before plummeting to the ground.

He slammed down just to Jax's left, lying motionless on the ground. He was still alive--only Dark's tight grip on his magic kept him immobile. Jax stood there, staring at the angel with wide eyes. As usual, he would be of no use.

Dark shot forward and pinned the angel to the ground, easing his grip on the magic only somewhat. He couldn't keep that tight of a hold for long. He yanked his sword from the sheathe and thrust out the hilt to Jax.

"Kill it, Jax!"

Jax balked, stumbling back and paling. "I--"

Dark fixed Jax under a burning glare. "Take the sword."

Looking on the verge of tears, Jax stepped forward and reached out. His fingers twitched, and his entire body flinched as his fingers closed around the hilt. His fingers wrapped around the hilt loosely--he looked like he'd drop the sword at the smallest scare.

"Jax!" Dark's hold, magical and physical, was faltering. The angel's attempts to break free were becoming more and more vigorous, and Dark's entire body was shaking. He leaned forward and pressed the angel's face in the dirt, gritting his teeth. "Hurry!"

"I--I--" Jax shook his head, looking half-terrified, half-guilty. "No--I--"

"Jax!" spat Dark. "Isn't this what you wanted? I told you exactly what you were getting into when you decided to join me. Kill this angel, and prove your resolve!"

Jax merely stood there, mouth opening and closing his mouth helplessly.

In a great burst of strength, the angel jumped off and wrenched Dark off.

Now or never, Jax!

But Jax never got a chance to move, because, in a moment, Hugh was there. He tore the sword from Jax's hands and plunged it into the angel's neck.

The angel swayed, then slammed into the ground, motionless.

For a moment they just stood there, gazing at the angel, at Jax, at Hugh. Dark pushed himself to his feet and wordlessly took the sword from Hugh's hand. Hugh watched him through narrowed eyes but handed the sword over without protest. Dark's gaze shifted to Jax, who stood there gaping at the corpse. Jax's fingers were still bent, as if he were still gripping the ghost of the sword.

Hugh broke the silence. "I suppose you are sane, Dark."

"Is that adequate proof?" asked Dark with a great deal of satisfaction.

Hugh glanced at the angel's corpse. "I don't see how I could continue to deny it, after this."

"Excellent. Well done on your first kill."

Hugh merely nodded. His glanced at Jax, still standing paralyzed, and his lip curled back in a barely contained expression of disgust. Clearly Jax, to him, was not up to par. He turned to Dark with an odd, evaluating expression, as well as a touch of caution.

Dark frowned. "Is something wrong?"
"...you," spoke Hugh, drawing out each word, "would have killed that angel, right?"

"Of course," said Dark with a touch of indignation. "I've slayed plenty already. Jax...is a bit newer."

But Hugh continued to frown, even after the reassurance. "Tell me this," he said. "If a human were to interfere...prevent you from killing an angel, siding with them, and so on, what would you do? Would you be able to, if necessary, kill a human?"

"I..." Dark trailed off, no easy answer rising up. He tilted his head. It was a situation he'd never encountered nor considered. When he was alone, it had easy and simple--hunt the angels, then kill them. But, certainly, if he were to start dragging other humans into his quest, then, inevitably, other humans would get in the way. How would he deal with that? He was drawing a blank.

"Of course not!"

Both Dark and Hugh turned to Jax in surprise, finding him broken out of his daze. He glared at Hugh, eyes blazing with sudden passion. He set his sights on Dark. Dark took a step back; he'd never seen Jax so fervent.

"How could you even consider that?" demanded Jax, storming forward. He stopped only a few feet away from Dark and Hugh. "That'd completely defeat the point! We're trying to stop the angels to save humans, so why would we go around murdering them? You--you--you--" He spluttered at Hugh, struggling and failing to vocalize the intensity that had gripped him.

Hugh once again frowned in disgust and stepped back, putting space between himself in Jax. "Yes, yes. I understand your philosophy very well." The words were spiteful. He turned to Dark. "What's your answer?"

Jax's rant had clicked something into place in Dark's mind, bringing about a sudden, wonderful clarity. "I'd rather not end human lives. Angels are the source of all evil, and humans are merely corrupted by them. I don't want to sacrifice victims of the angels." Yes, that made sense. His parents had always told him of the angels' evils, over and over, but they'd never criticized humans.

Hugh gazed at Dark for a few moments, face an unreadable mask. He let out a small "tch" and stepped back, shaking his head. "Regrettable," he said, "but this appears to be the only option if I wish to pursue justice."

"Well?" pressed Dark. "What do you say? Would you like to join us?" As much as he wished for Hugh and his wonderful ruthlessness to join the team, the idea of that wrath being turned on humans stirred a touch of uneasiness within Dark. Now that he'd sorted out his ideals, he would not tarnish them, nor bend to Hugh's will. Asking Hugh to join was a risky move, but a necessary one if he ever wished to gain a substantial gathering.

Hugh thought on it for only a few seconds before saying, "Yes, Dark. I will join your cause."