“Our job is to guard the human planes,” Armaros said carefully. “If we do our job, The Creator will honor us.”
He’d been saying the same damn thing since the dawn of time. And still.
Silence.
Heavens above, I was disgusted with silence.
“The Creator doesn’t even answer your song anymore, Armaros, most favored! Do you think for one second he would return the rest of us?” Bannick snapped.
Armaros looked away.
I felt shame wash over me. What I’d done was wrong.
I’d prayed in that moment, as the blade had pierced my heart — for The Creator to take me home.
I’d wanted to die.
I’d tried everything but the forbidden way to help take my own life — to give life — as was The Creator’s only job. I’d taken His job in hopes He would look my way; He would see that I was committing the ultimate sin.
But it had actually worked. I had not died, and the boy would grow strong. And for that, I would have some peace at least during my miserable existence.
“One day…” Bannick charged off. “…one day, you’ll see.”
Armaros shared a look with me and then whispered. “Let me see your chest.”
I flinched with pain.
Why was I in pain?
I’d never felt pain before, but I knew that was what this was, this feeling.
I dropped to my knees as silver blood began spewing from the wound on my chest.
Armaros caught me before I hit the ground. Light filled the room, and my shame grew with every passing second. “I know what you’ve done.”
The voice was gentle.
It wasn’t booming.
It held no judgement.
Just truth.
I closed my eyes.
“Open,” the voice commanded.
A small boy stood before me, his face glowing with light.
I reached for his hand.
He took a step and then allowed me to feel him, to feel his warmth.
“Bannick means this for evil, what you have done.” He grinned. “But I am The Creator, am I not? I see all? Know all? I let my children choose.”
“Yes,” I croaked. “You
are. You do.”