LIGHT coalesced in front of where the urchin stood with debris billowing through his noncorporeal form. It bent and twisted into a human shape silhouetted by glorious white wings. Gained presence without becoming flesh by drawing color through it while remaining diffuse, transparent to eyes seeing only what had a physical reality.
You always did have a touch for the dramatic, Caphriel, Addai said, the words spoken on a plane unheard by the mortal.
And you weren’t always a fool for lost causes. Does this form suit you better, brother?
The grubby child with the rat perched on his shoulder transformed into a man astride a horse. He spread his arms wide and lifted his face to the sky. And death sat upon a pale horse, given power to kill with sword and plague and pestilence and disease, and with the wild beasts of the earth.
Addai shook his head. The quote grows tiresome. As does this often-repeated conversation. But I’ll say my lines so we can move beyond them. You won’t go unchallenged. You won’t succeed in the task assigned you.
Caphriel morphed again, from a horseman of the Apocalypse to an angel whose resemblance to Tir was unmistakable. Ah, brother, even if I’ve yet to discover the source of your motivation, I’m glad you continue to cling to your delusions. You and those you call allies won’t wrest this world away from our father, but the game between us helps pass the time.
He looked at the place where Rebekka and Aryck stood, the alpha and shaman approaching them. I concede. This victory is yours, Addai. But there are other cities and other game pieces. In the end your efforts will come to nothing. Those living here will be gathered and judged, and I will finally be free of this world.
A stretching of black wings and Caphriel was gone, leaving parting words whispering through Addai’s mind. Echoing Addai’s own.
Until we meet again, brother.
Until we meet again.