When Cain spoke of reaching Talva before nightfall, I didn't quite grasp the meaning behind his words-and I didn't even ask myself. It wasn't until the sun sank and darkness fully descended that I understood exactly where my mirror-Raziel had transported me.
This realm is called Adama, otherwise known to Malak as 'the other side.' It is what mortals would call Earth.
Unlike Aravoth, where light reigns eternal and shadows are exiled before they can be born, here in Adama, darkness only arrives after the light fades.
By the time we reach Talva, night has wrapped the world in such thick blackness. The air is heavy, the path invisible; we can barely see our own hands.
This body might be brave, but I might've mentally flinched at every sound of a broken twig.
When we finally reach our huts, Cain lights torches in each one of them, their flames guttering softly against the soft wind slipping through the entrance. I set another one by the doorway.
The captive girl is led to the nearby river for a drink, while Cain and I settle outside before the fire, a meal in our hands.
The fire crackles between us, throwing sparks into the dark. While Cain eats, I stare into the fire, maybe if I look hard enough, perhaps the fire would speak. Perhaps Raziel himself would crawl out of it and tell me why; why he'd thrust me into this body that I have no control over, and without the courtesy of a hint that the captive girl was on the other side.
This is a realm no Malak must thread unless given a task, and as a Seraphim whose sole purpose is to be by Adonai's side, I shouldn't be here- encouraging whatever madness that has taken over these people, most especially this body. If I had a sliver of control over Abel, I would end this cruelty myself. But I can't.
My words, my actions - even my hands - are not my own. So how do I help her? How does one stop a journey when one isn't the one walking it?
My gaze suddenly shifts from the fire to Cain. He's almost finished with his supper, while mine has gone cold. "So, what now?" I ask with a voice hard like stone.
He doesn't look at me, instead his eyes stay on the flames, their restless light dancing across his face. "I don't know, brother," he murmurs. "It usually doesn't take us seven days to reach Talva."
"So?" I set my meal down. "Even if it takes a hundred days, what matters is that we're on the right path."
He shakes his head. "The right path keeps getting longer, brother. We can't afford to keep stopping."
I huff a dry laugh. "You mean resting? We're human, Cain. Even beasts stop to breathe on a journey like this."
He drops his supper, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "But remember, time is slipping through our fingers. What's the point of this journey if we fail our purpose? You said it yourself-she must be sacrificed on the tenth day. We haven't even reached Breaking Hill, and already seven days have passed."
Wait... sacrifice?
Is that what this journey has been about all along? I feel sick in the gut.
I lower my gaze, my hand balling into a fist. "I'm sorry."
Cain exhales, his tone softening. "No... I am. You left your flocks with the villagers just to come with me. The least I can do is try to understand."
I reach for a twig and then start to trace lines on the ground. "We left Yulma by day and arrived here by nightfall. Tomorrow, we head east toward Gallo. Next is Breaking Hill. Then... Sands." I look up. "We're on time, Cain. Almost there."
"I know the route, brother. I've got every landmark up here," He taps a finger against his temple. "My point is the unnecessary pause. The more we stop to breathe, the longer the road will be-"
"She can barely walk, Cain! Have you ever tried to hold those shackles after they've been scorched by the sun? They burn, Cain -into her flesh-and still, she endures them. Her feet are swollen, torn open from walking endlessly even before the journey started, and the tattered rags she wears barely shield her from the relentless sun. We owe her at least a moment's rest."
Cain's eyes glint with bewilderment, then a thin smile curls on his lips. "So it's about the prisoner, then," he says, almost amused. "We're stopping because of her, not because we both need it?"
A long breath escapes me, a sigh that feels like it's been trapped in my chest for hours - maybe even days. "It's not entirely about her." I say, unconvincing even to my own ears.
"Are you sure, brother?" he leans in, eyes searching mine. "You seem... invested in this 'rest' and it's because of her."
"It's not like that," I mutter. "It's just.... we are human, Cain, not monsters." He scoffs. "Fine. The shackles... What if we took them off her feet? We both know that's what's slowing her down."
His smile turns cold, the kind that frightens children. "No. The shackles stay where they are."
"You said it yourself-there is no time. And the weaker she grows, the less use she is as an offering. She'll collapse before we even reach the altar."
He sighs softly, leaning away. "How are you always this persuasive, brother?"
I blink, taken aback. "Persuasive?" Then I scoff. "You think I'm persuasive?"
He nods. "Of course... Just like that witch." He gestures toward the stream.
I close my eyes, inhale... "Cain..." I exhale, then open them again. let our mother's soul rest."
"I know, I know..." he says, his tone curdling into a mock remorse. "I promised I wouldn't bring it up - not as long as the witch pays for what she did. But still..." His gaze drifts toward the stream again, his jaw tightening. "Traveling with her is like walking beside the ghost of that truth. Don't tell me you don't feel it. Don't tell me you're not disgusted by her."
"I am, I am. But we must never let disgust get in the way of our mission, and our upbringing."
"Upbringing." Cain's jaw tightens, the flicker of firelight sharpening the bone of his cheek. "There's no upbringing in this. Our mother would still be alive if not for her. She took our parents from us."
"Death took our parents, Cain. Not her."
His eyes snap to mine, dark and fevered. "I am your brother, Abel. Stop taking her side."
"I'm not," I say, too quietly. "It's the truth."
"No-it's not! Our parents would've lived longer-peaceful. We wouldn't have been cast out, wouldn't be rotting in dirt and hunger. We'd be closer to God."
"We are close to God-"
"Then why! Why are we traveling for days just to reach Him? Why does the road to his altar grow longer with every step we take? Isn't that enough proof that He's still angry with us, because of what that witch made our mother do?"
I meet his glare and hold it. "They're dead, Cain. We're already dragging the supposed culprit to Sands, where she'll burn at the stake. What more do you want from her?"
Silence falls between us. Cain stares at me as if I have betrayed him.
"Can we just focus on the task? I want us to reach the altar as soon as possible... and that means removing her shackles. Any objection?"
My voice slices through the taut silence. I am not certain whether I am asking Cain, myself, or the gods. And I've never been this confused. Whose side is Abel on?
"Chief!" one of the escort's voice tears through the quiet.
Chief? That name again.
The call is not from the man who I had entrusted the captive girl to. It comes from the one in charge of our supper.
"Edad?" I mutter, turning toward the stream, my body tightening in instinct.
"Chief, come quick!"
If this body were mine, a chill will be pricking down my spine by now. I don't know why, but something about Edad's tone already feels wrong. But not wrong enough to make this body stand up.
"He's calling you, brother," Cain says lazily, mouth full as he reaches for another bite of supper.
I groan, refusing to move from my seat. "It's a rabbit," I mutter. "It has to be a rabbit—when Edad yells like that, it's always something that ends up being roasted or cooked."
Cain chuckles, tossing more wood into the fire, sparks flying. "Go. See what he wants. If it's a rabbit, help him—you always do."
I drag my hand down my face, groaning louder. I start to put my meal away, but before I can push myself off the mat, Edad bursts into the clearing, breathless, wide-eyed, trembling.
"Chief." he pants, swallows hard, then pants again.
Cain smirks. "What is it now, Edad? Saw a ghost?"
I nearly laugh, but something in Edad's expression stops me.
"Or a deer, maybe. And you need my help catching it?" I tease anyway, trying to lighten the air.
But Edad only shakes his head, voice cracking. "The girl… she killed Luther! I don't know what to do!"
Cain and I are on our feet before the words even finish leaving his mouth. Cain reaches for the nearest torch, the next thing I know, we're brushing past Edad, sprinting toward the river.
On reaching there, my eyes find a body sprawling on the ground.
"Luther." Cain huffs.
As he steps closer with the torch, we're able to see his body growing extremely paler than usual. The prisoner—still shackled—is cradling him, her mouth locked on his neck, as if she's stuck that way.
"Luther tried to make her drink, but she wouldn't drink," Edad stammers behind me. "Luther got angry… he was going to hit her, but she caught his hand with her fangs and didn't let go."
Fangs.
Fangs?
Something tightens in my chest, but this time it's not just a gentle squeeze, it crawls upward into my lungs until breathing feels like swallowing glass. My vision darkens, blurring everything in front of me.
I know this feeling. It's the same storm that swirled inside me just before I shattered my mirror.
My fist clenched with a violent hunger to break, to destroy everything in reach.
Control your rage, Fury.
Wait... This rage is not mine, yet it's eerily familiar. It's... cold and sinister, and it's clawing all the way to my sanity. How is this possible? It's almost as if... Abel and I are one.
"Stay away from him!" Cain shouts, startling the girl away from Luther's body. She looks up, mouth smeared with blood, and Luther's throat—oh, God—Luther's throat is open, blood gushing from the wound like a split vein.
She was feeding on him.
My fists clench even tighter and the rage inside me surges higher, demanding release. I always thought I was the only one with a bad temper. Turns out Abel is just as temperamental, almost too volatile. If I'm honest, this might be the only thing we both have in common.
Cain grabs a rock, raising it to strike her, but I step forward, shielding her. Adonai be my strength; I'm protecting the enemy from my supposed brother, who already suspects that I'm picking sides.
"Brother, move!" Cain yells, his eyes already wet.
"Put the rock away, Cain." I say. The words leave my throat as a low growl, quiet but cutting.
"Luther was your best friend! And she just killed him!" he shouts, voice shaking. "Do you know what this means for her? For us?"
I glance back at her. She hasn't moved, she just sits there, licking Luther's blood from her fingers like it's honey.
Cain's right. She's no girl, she's a night child. And I can't believe this same body almost made me kiss those lips.
"Move, brother!"
"No."
"Brother?" Cain's voice breaks again, pleading now. "Move."
"No," I say again, then turns to face him. "This one is mine."
Of course.
An animal for an animal. You couldn't have chosen better, could you, Raziel? Of all the bodies in the world, you had to put me in this one.
"I hope you know what you're doing, brother," Cain warns, still holding the rock high above his head.
"I do," I reply firmly. "You and Edad bury the body. I'll handle this one."
My feet are already moving, before my mind can follow. Shouldn't Abel be terrified right now?
A woman who looked harmless and fragile had just fed on a human being. He should be horrified. I should be horrified, but he's only furious.
Or maybe… he already knew what she was.
I seize her by the arm and drag her away, her skin cold, and soft. When we reach the hut—my hut—I shove her inside and let her fall hard on the floor.
The torchlight flares weakly in the corner, and yet I can't see. The blinding rage is back, pulsing behind my eyes.
I start pacing. Control it. Control it, or you might just end up killing her with your bare hands.
Breath in. Breath out. Come on, why is he so furious?
"Why?" I say through gritted teeth. "Why? Why? Why, why, why?!" I roar, finally, and then lunge toward the nearest wall and drive my fist straight through it.
The ground shakes, my own knuckles shakes too but they still remains clenched.