By the moment the Demiurge managed to open his eyes, darkness had reclaimed his workshop, and the smell of burnt wood and fresh rain had conquered it all in his decimated room. His first concern was the Spire, where was it!? Had it been hit by the explosion!? And for that matter, what was that blast of light to begin with! And where was he, right now?

Where did Baraqiel go?

His body still ached when he forced himself up, patting the now warm stone around him. The furious energies had pushed his bulbous frame all the way back to a corner of the now shaken room, right besides the Spire’s Core. After a quick, frantic examination, Enrico determined that every little cog was still in place, and the Amber Heart had not been damaged in the explosion. The cables were still in one piece, which was also great news, but the stone slabs were broken down…

Well, it was still enough relief to make the man sigh. Stone can be procured, but steel wires were expensive, and pure Amber was rare. Overall, it could be worse, not considering the scrambled notes all around the floor, getting wet by the rain that still drizzled in through the hole that used to be a trap door. The ink would get all messy, the record of the man’s failures was getting even harder to look at by the second

But that hole, it was a reminder of a much more pressing issue: a vessel had escaped, and not only that, it had somehow stolen a Rune without sharing it with its true owner first. All this work, the first real success in his whole investigation, and it all was slipping right through the man’s fingers.

He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t just let Baraqiel roam Jericho now, not only because of anger but also out of responsibility: the vessel was a danger to itself, and to all around it now.

Once again Enrico forced himself to his feet, rubbing his shoulders gently to try and ease their pain, and then pushing one of the few counters that still remained standing, covering the entrance to the Main Sanctum so no other vessels get ideas from this one upstart.

“If any of you little bastards even thinks about moving right now, I swear on the gods I will open you like the pigs you are!!!”

The Demiurge kept trying to keep a cold, rational mind above it all, but there was no use: his wrath knew no bounds at this point. Each trotting step he took on the way out of the broken down workshop felt heavier and angrier, as he jumped over pieces of wood and debris and felt the cold water showering him.

It only made him more furious.

“Baraqiel! Come back here this instant! Baraqiel!!”

He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, but it was still dark outside, and there was no way the child had gone too far. As the rain started to die down, the stupid vessel would probably feel confident and slow down– that’s when he would get it, right in the neck, before anyone could see.

The world was not ready for Enrico’s studies, they would never understand. He needed to censor this leak quickly, before it was too late and he had to simply start over again. After all, he was way too old to do this a third time: this was his last chance.

And as he ran into the forest, he promised to himself that even if it costs his life, this experiment would see the results he had been waiting for oh so long, no matter what. No one could stop him now…

—

The rain had been steadily dying out for the last few minutes, and the entire chapel was slowly being engulfed once again by the eerie silence of night. Not a creature dared to break the quiet, knowing too well that this was the time predator loved the most: a moment of apparent safety, perfect to jump upon unsuspecting, hopeful prey.

It felt like this silence would last forever, until a small, fragile body fell right down from a tree, oh so close to the Chapel’s side. It was quite the big splash, but not big enough for people to take much notice! They probably assumed it was a squirrel or a particularly unskilled bird. Baraqiel let out a deep, shaky breath once their body was back on the ground; the impact was too heavy on their poor back, the muddy water stung hard on their many wounds, and they had been as tense as the sails of a small ship for this entire time.

They had the chance to simply run straight into the forest, forsake it all, find shelter, but something deep down inside of the Angel’s mind had pulled all strings at once to stop them.

Think about it, that’s the first damn place he will look! You need a break, now!

There was no way they could outrun the Demiurge, no matter how long he remained knocked out (Which, honestly, couldn’t be for that long). Even if they tried with all of their might, exhaustion was quickly spreading all over them after… well…

Uh… what exactly did happen…?

Baraqiel stopped thinking about how they had resorted to the same strategies an opossum would use, trying to focus on the explosion of before. The lights brimming from deep within, the wind picking up. The Rune, shining bright in their mind.

Curiosity tempted them to try and summon that light again, but rational thinking was still strong despite it all.

If I try it again, it will happen again, but I have no idea how it works or how tiring it will be now…

Whatever it was that they did, it had sucked the energies right out of them, to the point where they couldn’t even move a muscle now. They had barely been able to climb the tree in the first place, and to remain there for long enough to let the old man run past, but now…

This was it. This was as far as they could reach. It had been a great attempt, but as soon as the fat bastard found them, it would be the end.

So, with a proverbial sword hanging right above their neck, and no more strength left to move out of its way, Baraqiel decided to simply embrace its fall with as much peace as they could. Enjoying the fresh air, knowing the damage they had done to the Demiurge’s work, and feeling the storm slowly turning into a drizzle was more than enough from life, or at least that’s what they wanted to convince themself of.

A more cynical mind would even consider the possibility of just ending it all, escape the claws of their torturer before they returned, and it would be silly to think there weren’t whispers of that idea in the child’s mind, but suicide is not exactly a natural thought in the psyche of a little kid, at least, not this one. The idea was too foreign.

They simply closed their eyes, and waited for their fate to arrive.

With the falling rain finally coming to a stop, and cold air brushing against their chest, fear soon started to sublimate and dissipate around the child like their steaming sweat.

Things will be fine after. I know they will.

There was an odd certainty in their mind: the worst part had already passed, and despite tragedy, all that is to come will be for the better. Baraqiel had no proof of this, but they didn’t have any doubts either.

The drizzling rain kept them distracted, deeply relaxed, oddly fine with their incoming demise, and then they heard the steps. Heavy, slow, headed right their way. Fear struck them again, but only for a moment; Baraqiel was quick to smother the flames of panic with a deep breath.

Lo que será, será.

“Whatever it may be, it will be”. A little phrase Baraqiel had caught in the ramblings of the Demiurge, something they never thought about again until now of all times– it brought them a resignation so heavy, they almost felt pity for the person who came up with it in the first place.

They wondered if someone would pity them now.

I just hope it is quick.

And so, the child waited for the feeling of those huge, callous hands squeezing their neck again. They waited for the cracking of their bones, the lack of air and the pain of their head coming soon after. They waited for it all.

But none of it came.

Baraqiel waited for what they considered long enough, even counting up to thirty before losing their patience. The steps had stopped all of a sudden, and the kid could hear him breathe heavily and warily, he was right there!

Almost feeling offended, the Angel opened their eyes. Only to see a small, pale figure covered in white rags, donning a pot on their head and carrying a mace almost as big as they were, breathing slowly and deeply like an angry bull.

As thunder crashed and echoed far, far away, Baraqiel rediscovered fear that night.

—

“Give it up already, you dumb baby! How much do you want to hurt your shoulders??”

The teasing, mean mallet never really stopped mocking Gabrielle as she walked, grunted and made her way from the backyard and around the chapel. The trap door was on the kitchen side of it all, it took a bit of a walk to get to, but the girl had never noticed until that very moment, as the wooden shaft crushed her shoulders.

The earth really did tremble with each step she took, her feet now sinking deeper into the mud with each step she took. If only she had shoes, this would be much faster and it would certainly feel much less disgusting.

At least the rain was starting to die down, Gabi could feel it in how the raindrops started to hit her “helmet” with less and less intensity, the constant drumming on the metal surface finally starting to end as well.

As much as she wanted to convince herself to not mind it, the echoing rain was getting on her nerves.

“Perfect chance to put me down and pull me back into the shed, right buddy?”

Gabrielle spat on the floor again.

Be quiet, you.

Feeling only more determined than before, Gabrielle’s steps grew longer, more confident and faster. She felt like nothing could really stop her now, and she felt like no matter what fate was in store, she and her mallet would be able to conquer it all.

“Don’t rope me into your dumb ideas, girl!”

The teasing of the mallet soon turned into a nervous, invisible tugging, trying to get Gabi to turn right around as she reached the corner of the chapel. But no, she would not be deterred! She would press on, and deal with the truth no matter what it may be!

And what was it?

With a new step, Gabrielle finally could see… charred ground, and a huge hole where the trapdoor used to be.

Her body froze in place for a second. Ideas were pushing violently against each other, growling and biting like hungry wolves as they tried to be the first one for Gabrielle to process: lightning did struck, or maybe something exploded, was this actually the actions of a human, would the mallet be enough for this one, had she gone to the bathroom before coming here?

Taking a loud, dry gulp, Gabrielle pressed on, closer and closer to the site of impact. The earth still felt warmer in there, not enough to hurt her feet but hot enough to notice. And it only got hotter the more she approached.

“Do you think I’ll be strong enough for this, girl? Because let me tell you, I am plenty flammable!”

Gabi didn’t remember where she heard that word, surprisingly, but she had a bit of a grasp of what it meant: it meant that if the mallet gets hot enough, it would catch fire like anything else. The idea stressed her even more, as obvious as it could have been before.

But she refused to stop. There was something else in the vicinity. Someone else.

Laying down on the floor, right besides a tree. The figure was clearly human but, at the same time, it felt a bit too thin to really be one. And all of those red spots on their skin, burning, bleeding wounds– or, well, maybe not wounds. Maybe they were more than that.

Maybe they were eyes.

A crater. A creature laying down, wounded, bleeding. The rain had stopped soon after it all…

Connections were made in the girl’s mind at prodigious speeds, her body paralyzed by such brain power, while the angel gave her a sudden look. Had they always known she was there!? Did they hear her, or did they just know?

Gabrielle’s lips parted, as suddenly it all made sense. This was not the work of a man, it was the work of this being.

An Angel, breaking things by accident when they fell right from the sky.

“Bloody blazes…” Mumbled the girl, swearing now out of any other time, right in front of an angel! And quickly feeling self conscious about it.

But the Angel didn’t seem to mind. They took a deep breath, eyes darting around in their unknowable face, before they spoke with a gurgling, tired voice.

“Please… help me.”