Dedicated to AYClaudy because her works are awesome and she's a brilliant writer. Check her out guys!

By the way, there will be some mature content coming up within the next few chapters (just in case you were wondering) ;D

7) Part Two

~April~

"Beth?" My heart thumped loudly when I noticed that she'd gone deadly pale. I held my breath in order to calm my shaking. "Beth, please talk to me. What is it?" She wouldn't answer despite my best efforts to get her attention.

When she slammed a hand against her throat, constricting it, I jumped back in shock. She started to wheeze heavily. Something wasn't right. "Beth what do you want me to do?" I was frozen in place, unable to take my eyes away from the scene. Around us, everything seemed normal. It would've been deceiving to those who'd have looked in, that much I knew. My friend's eyes widened significantly.

I had no idea what to do. "Beth, answer me. Please. Beth!"

When her face morphed into an expression of agony I looked around in a panic. "Oh my god!" I searched for something that could help - anything at all - as I screamed my aunt's name. "SARAH!" The house was silent. Too silent. "Sarah! Help!" Still no response.

I didn't have time to think about that and instead resumed my search.

The sun went behind a heavy cloud and the wind picked up in speed, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body. Around us, trees swayed menacingly making my heart beat much faster. As Beth's condition worsened the wind also increased, making the chairs look as if they were about to cave from the force.

Suddenly, the table holding up our sundae glasses toppled to the floor. I screamed. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, mixing in with the liquid ice cream as it dribbled across the patio. I ignored it, instead focusing on the way Beth's choking worsened as her hands gripped tighter around her neck like a vice. Her eyes gazed imploringly at the trees ahead, as if begging something unseen within the trees to release her.

"Jesus." I whimpered before searching my pockets for my phone. "Where is it?" I'd sworn it had been with me. The veins in my friend's forehead and neck began to stand out; her eyes began to roll back in her head. She's going to die if I don't do something, I thought to myself as I began patting my pockets much more frantically. Fat tears leaked from my eyes and my teeth chattered. I wanted to move; to do something but I felt like I was being held in place. My nose began to run. Whatever it was grew stronger until I couldn't even find the will to search my pockets anymore and I whimpered. Its icy chill seeped into my bones, keeping me captive against my will. "Oh god, oh god..."

I was frozen.

However hard I tried to shift my feet, they wouldn't budge. I cursed. "This can't be happening...." I managed to tear at my hair, letting out a strangled sob. "Beth, I'm sorry, I can't move." Tears blurred my vision. "I'm so sorry..." I wailed as she struggled, repeating the last phrase over and over.

My heart was hammering so loudly that I thought I was going to pass out. "Someone, please..." My voice sounded broken even to my own ears. I tried to move again. "Please, help her..." In front of me, Beth's form was beginning to slump. "Oh god..." Just then I felt something cold brush past me. The world seemed to slow as the same vile scent that had haunted my dreams entered my nose. It couldn't be...

The sky darkened ever so slightly.

It was.

They were here.

"Oh no," I whispered.

More tears fell. Beth's choking quietened and her chest began to heave as if it was becoming an effort for her to breathe. She was in grave danger and I couldn't do a single to help her. Words couldn't express how useless I felt at that moment. Once again, the same thing brushed against the back of my neck, lingering for just a second. "Please..." I was trembling, addressing whatever was out there. "Please let us go." Why couldn't it have all just been my imagination? Why did this have to happen now when Beth was here?

A long, terrible moment passed before I felt the coldness begin to slip away. It was gradual at first before it suddenly pulled back, leaving me breathless. The wind stopped roaring almost immediately and a great calm settled over my surroundings, contradicting the scene before me. I shot over to Beth as her hand fell from her neck, suddenly free from the invisible hold that had come over me. The second I was able to, I pulled her to her feet. She spluttered multiple times before crouching over on her knees for support. Her whole frame shook as she coughed, the sight of it shredding my insides apart with guilt. "God, are you alright?" My voice was squeaky; high pitched.

Her teeth were chattering. "I..."

More coughs spluttered from her throat.

I handed her a glass of water once I'd run inside to fetch one. "Do you want my aunt to take you to the hospital?" I asked as I bent over her, anxiously checking her for any signs of injury. Deep pink hand marks were engraved into her neck, serving as the only evidence for the event that had occurred between us. At the same time something deep twisted in my gut as I'd realised: This was my fault. "Beth... what just happened?" I asked her, almost scared to hear the truth.

She took a deep breath.

When she was strong enough, I let her go and she straightened up. "I'm not sure," she admitted, failing to meet my eyes. "Listen," she stared at the ground with more intensity as long moments of silence passed between us. The foreboding feeling came back. "I was thinking of ... walking back into town to catch the bus home," she hesitated, "if you don't mind?"

When she noticed the broken glass on the floor her expression fell. "Sorry about the glass. I can help you clean this up first if you want."

I shook my head, feeling tears sting at my eyes. "It's ok, I'll do it. You need to go home." My voice cracked with emotion. This was it, I thought to myself. She was going to stop talking to me for good.

What if she knew that it was my fault?

"Are you sure?" She asked me. I didn't miss the way her voice rose with hope.

"Yeah." My heart broke.

As she turned to leave I called out her name one last time. She faced me again.

"Are we... still friends?" My cheeks flamed up as I realised how I must've sounded. I was such an idiot.

She gave me a sad smile. "Of course."

This time I let her go, saying nothing as she shut the doors to my garden behind her.

*

~Micah~

The fallen walked slowly along the palace's west wing, his footfalls echoing harshly as he went.

To each side of him the grey stonework walls were decorated with large portraits; hung underneath the paintings, low-watt bulbs helped to illustrate the important landmarks or key points in the dimension's history which were etched onto the canvases. The ceilings of the west wing were high and arched; dull in colour yet magnificent to the eye with their foreign ceiling carvings. Columns lined each side of the walls, occasionally showcasing other corridors which split off from the wing.

Out of interest, he stopped in front of a particularly heavily framed portrait which was a depiction of the lava pit – a place where the darkest of human souls and the most punished of fallen were often tormented. On closer inspection he thought to himself that the paintwork was particularly well crafted; the strokes manipulated without effort. He noticed that the colours were murky yet bright enough to highlight the flames of the fire that erupted from the edges of the pit. To him at least, the artist had done a good job.

Moving on to the next one, he analysed the original portrait which was hung in a steeled frame, mixed with solidified mercury. The masterpiece was the most dominant of those surrounding it; its front was layered with a thick paste to prevent it from corrosion or air damage and its size was overwhelming. The silvered plaque beneath it read, The Fallen King, in ancient Latin (Lapsis Rex). Micah smiled. The language was familiar to him – it was in fact the first language of the fallen; he remembered it clearly even to this day.

Looking back at the paint itself he noticed it was thick; it produced the depth of the swirls which were colours of grey, white and black as they surrounded the centre figure. Centred was a representation of Benjiah, illustrating what he'd suspected the artist believed Benjiah to have looked like when he'd fallen. Dark, midnight black wings with slightly greyed tips shielded to figure as he fell to earth with a forlorn expression carved into his features. His wings were also torn and jagged as they stretched to cover his body which was half curled in a foetal position. Beneath him, there was a vast space of darkness; penetrated with the occasional whisper of an orange flame. It spoke of doom and reeked of misery, which Micah knew was exactly what came for Benjiah when he fell that fateful day.

Before he could stop it, images of Micah's own fall came to mind – including the panic, loss, devastation as well as the mournful cries that had consumed his throat, tearing at it, as he'd plummeted towards a foreign land. He grimaced. When he'd fallen thousands of years ago he hadn't been the figure he was today. Back then, before time had wisened him, he'd been a naïve young fallen with no way of navigating his way through the human world. As a result, he'd travelled from land to land, lost. That same loss is what had eventually led him to Benjiah.

Even now he wasn't sure if he was grateful. A lot of things had changed as a result of that encounter – some would say not for the better. Nevertheless, what had been done was done and there was no way of him turning back now.

Get back to what matters, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Snapping out of it, Micah pulled away from the haunting portrait and resumed his pace, perhaps quicker than was necessary. It seemed even now he couldn't outrun his past, he thought to himself. In his darkest moments he had tried.

When he reached the end of the wing, he pulled open the last set of large wooden doors before entering the room. It was an abandoned study. The air was dusty he noted, most likely caused by the fact that the windows had been tightly clamped shut for hundreds of years. Pulling open the willowy drapes, he forced open a window which creaked with the effort. Once that had been accomplished he stepped back, watching the way the dusky light of the 'red sun' streamed in, alighting the carpet with its dark rays. A cold breeze rushed in. Satisfied, he resumed his analysis.

On the outside the palace looked menacing; its gothic-looking towers could be seen for hundreds of miles over the black terrain and stormy mountains. Inside however, he realised that the rooms were silently decaying; no longer able to stand the test of time. He blew out a breath. If nothing changed, the rooms would soon crumble under the heavy weight of a great negligence. He thought it provided the perfect analogy.

They needed to restore order to their kingdom once and for all if a revolution was to be prevented, he thought to himself. Surely Benjiah would gain the trust of the black witch once more, he supposed, as he stood gazing out of the bay windows. Our empire will not be destroyed by the hands of some demented sorceress, he seethed. They had spent too long trying to build up what was rightfully theirs.

Benjiah would not allow it and neither would he.

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair and began to survey his surroundings in more detail. He chose to focus on the great marble fireplace in front of him.

While everything else in the room was decaying, including the torn armchairs and peeling wallpaper, the fireplace stood unscathed. Its perfectly sculpted marble was unchipped; still emanating a deep jet black, a sharp contrast to its dreary settings. Out of curiosity, he stepped closer to it. On top of the fireplace stood a small golden clock which was remarkably, still ticking. His eyebrows rose as he watched the smaller hand progress around the clock face. Perhaps there was a chance to save everything after all, he thought. If one thing from the room could be saved then surely Benjiah and he still had the chance to save their kingdom.

All thoughts left him when a black mist which hovered in the doorway. He watched as it gradually solidified. When fully formed the guard bowed, its face cloaked by a helmet. "A fallen wishes to see you, my Lord," its scratchy voice recited.

Micah clenched his jaw. "Identify them." The guard did as he commanded. Upon learning of their identity, his jaw soon unclenched. "Very well, summon them."

The dark form vanished.

Moments later, another smaller form materialised in the same spot where the guard had stood. Micah immediately turned his back on them and began to pace in front of the windows. "Did it work?" His gaze was fixed on the large wrought iron gates outside. They seemed to surround the palace like an impenetrable wall, casting a large shadow. He could only hope they looked foreboding enough to keep the fallen away.

"I did just as you wished, my Lord," was the careful response he received.

Micah straightened his back, instantly tense. "That is not what I asked."

A small silence seemed to stretch on for longer than necessary. "If you do not answer me I will send you to the pit, fallen." It took all he had not to turn around and execute the incompetent creature right then and there. But alas, they were useful to him and so he did not. Instead he clenched his fists.

A swallow could be heard as the smaller fallen replied. "Unfortunately... Gabe... did not show up as planned, my Lord."

Micah's eyes shut as he ground his teeth together. This was going to be a lot harder than he'd assumed. He didn't like that one bit. "You are dismissed," he bit out as he struggled to channel his rage. Why had the cursed fallen not come to defend the human as planned?

"But my Lord, what should be done about –"

He cut them off with a hand. "I shall see to it myself. You will keep an eye on the human and report to me for further details." For clarification he added, "The human is not to be harmed, understood?"

There was an odd tilt to the fallen's tone as they responded, "Yes... my Lord." A second later they disappeared.

When they were gone Micah slammed his fist against the wall, causing some of the brick to crumble.

Benjiah was doing all he could to try and restore order by attempting to reiterate the help of the black witch, but Micah feared that it wouldn't be enough. Rumours were beginning to spread faster than he'd expected and he needed to instil more fear into the fallen if he wanted to prevent a civil war.

That's where Gabe and the human became involved.

If he could destroy the legend involving Gabe and his former lover and imprison them both, he may be able to achieve what he so desired. Removing all chances of the enemy's escape (the enemy being Gabe and April who were viewed as siding with the angels) would signify to the fallen army what he and Benjiah were capable of. It would also insinuate that chances of invading the heavens were likely, erasing the rumours once and for all. If he could do all of this, then he and Benjiah may have a chance. If not... He quickly dispelled that thought.

All he knew was that he needed to act fast.

He was running out of time.

I hope none of this confused you! 

It would mean the world to me if you guys could share this to your followers or on your message board. Thank you so much to everyone who reads this! There will be some romance soon, fret not... xoxo