Shattered Halo

I slowly peeled my eyes open, vision blurry. Light stabbed at my brain, making me wince. As my gaze cleared, I absorbed the unfamiliar room.

Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with dusty tomes and strange artifacts. A wooden table sat in the center, cluttered with jars of herbs and peculiar instruments. The air was thick with the scent of dried chamomile, lavender, and mint, followed by the strong aroma of brewed tea.

Lying on my belly, I felt weakness seep from my bones. My knuckles ached, and my back stung with a raw, burning sensation. I grunted, pushing myself upright.

Pain shot through my body as I sat, legs dangling down to touch the cold floor. My hands instinctively reached for my back, seeking the familiar shape of my wings. Instead, I found fresh scars, tender and jagged.

Memories flooded my mind: the Reaper's blade, my friends falling, and my wings being torn away. My eyes prickled with tears as I recalled the anguish and despair.

I took a shuddering breath, fighting the emotions. The room spun, and I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. Where was I? How did I get here?

As I struggled to piece together my fragmented thoughts, a faint hum of magic lingered in the air, a gentle whisper that seemed to emanate from the shelves. My gaze drifted toward the books, searching for answers.

I could hardly join my thoughts together to think of something tangible. I was lost, here in Spellbound City, in a place where I knew the Law forbade my kind from visiting. If only we had yielded to the Law, maybe I would not be where I am now. The strange thoughts angered me, and I felt myself grit my teeth. I molded my hands into fists, my knuckles whitening despite the weakness that still lingered in my body.

An angel without wings, was like a fish without fins — our pride was hidden in our wings, they were symbol of our magic, our glory and now, I had been stripped of that. I had been turned into an Outcast.

As I sat, lost in thought, a faint creak echoed from the adjacent room. My head jerked toward the sound, curiosity piqued. I pushed myself to stand, wincing as pain burned across my back where my wings once lay.

Each step was a struggle, my legs trembling beneath me. I gritted my teeth, determined to investigate. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet as I made my way to the door.

I pushed it open, and a warm glow spilled out. The room was smaller, with shelves lining the walls, stacked with tiny jars filled with glowing potions and bundles of dried herbs. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the array of strange containers.

Just as I began to absorb the details, faint footsteps echoed from the stairs leading to the floor above. My gaze shifted upward, and I froze.

A man stood at the top of the stairs, his silver hair brushed backwards, revealing crimson eyes that seemed to gleam in the dim light. His slightly arched ears hinted at his true nature – a Fae. Intricate, black tattoos adorned his neck and arms, depicting serpents coiled around daggers. The markings seemed to dance across his skin as he moved.

I recognized those tattoos – the hallmark of the Vhaeryn, a subset of Fae notorious for their ruthless cunning and lethal skill. They were whispered to be death incarnate, feared by angels and mortals alike.

"Vhaeryn," I whispered, memories flooding my mind. Their kind was infamous for their role as assassins and spies.

The Vhaeryn's gaze locked onto mine, and a hint of a smile played on his lips. "Ah, you're awake," he said, his voice low and melodious.

"Am I your prisoner?" I asked, my voice trembling.

The Vhaeryn grinned, his crimson eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, considering I found you dying, I'd say you're more of a... slave, now."

Fear clawed at my chest, threatening to suffocate me. This was exactly what we were taught in Eden: the Mortal realm was treacherous, and angels who ventured here would be exploited and enslaved.

My mind reeled, recalling the warnings of our elders. I had dismissed them as cautionary tales, but now I faced the grim reality.

My magic, though weakened, stirred in response to my fear. I thrust a hand toward the Vhaeryn, unleashing a bolt of searing lightning.

The spell shot forth, but even I sensed its weakness compared to my former prowess. Once, my magic would have shattered the air and shaken the foundations of the building. Now, it barely crackled with half the intensity.

Before my lightning could strike, the Vhaeryn vanished in the blink of an eye. I stood there, stunned, my eyes scanning the space where he once stood.

A shiver raced down my spine as I felt a presence behind me. I spun around, and my heart sank. The Vhaeryn stood inches from my back, his grin still plastered on his face.

"Is this how angels say thank you to their saviors?" he teased.

I tried to react, but before I could, something like roots sprouted from the ground, wrapping around my legs and arms like chains. I struggled, but they held firm.

The Vhaeryn's fingers pressed into the wounds on my shoulder blades, where my wings once lay. Agony exploded through me, and I screamed.

"You shouldn't have done that, little angel," he whispered, his breath cold against my ear. "Now, let's discuss your... manners."

I writhed, helpless, as the Vhaeryn's grip dug deeper into my wounds. The pain I felt was hard to ignore, no matter how much I tried to fake it. I could feel his fingers, how the tips of his nails sliced through the already tender flesh, adding more pain to my pain. Maybe I had done wrong, maybe I wasn't supposed to attack him. If he had wanted to make me a slave, maybe he'd have inflicted a Slave Mark on me. I felt my mind reel back to a time I thought was long buried.

I was a child, no more than ten winters old. I had broken the Law, venturing too far from the safety of Eden. The punishment was swift and merciless.

I remembered being strapped to a trunk, my wrists and ankles bound by unyielding leather. The flogging began, each lash cutting through my tender skin like a razor's edge. My wings, still developing, cracked and trembled under the blows.

My eyes, blurry from tears and pain, locked onto my sister, Stephanie. She cowered in the corner, her small hands covering her mouth as she watched the horror unfold.

"Please, stop!" she begged, her voice trembling.

But the elders showed no mercy. They saw my disobedience as a threat to the entire community. The pain was a living thing, writhing inside me like a serpent. I screamed until my voice was hoarse, until my vision faded to black.

The Vhaeryn's grip brought me back to the present, his fingers twisting in my wounds like a hot blade.

"Your scars run deep, little angel," he whispered, his breath cold against my ear. "But I'll make sure new ones eclipse the old."

My mind reeled, memories and pain blurring together. Stephanie's face swam before my eyes, her tears falling like rain.

"Stephanie..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The doors burst open, and a figure entered the room. The Vhaeryn's fingers stilled, no longer twisting in my wounds.

The roots holding me at bay loosened their grip, and I collapsed to the ground, lying on my belly. I felt my own blood trickling down my skin.

Through blurry eyes, I gazed at her – the girl with a wild mane of fiery red hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of flames. Her porcelain skin seemed almost translucent in the dim light, and her full lips were pressed into a determined line. Her emerald green eyes blazed with anger as she took in the scene before her.

She dashed towards me, her slender legs eating up the distance. Her long, flowing skirt – a deep shade of indigo – billowed behind her like a dark cloud. She fell on her knees beside me, her hands gentle as she pulled off her scarf and pressed it against my wounds.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," she whispered, her voice soothing. "You're safe now."

Her touch was gentle, a soothing balm to my agony. I felt a surge of gratitude toward this stranger.

"Kaelin, what's wrong with you?" she screamed at the Vhaeryn, her voice trembling.

The Vhaeryn grated, "He attacked me first. Needed to teach him some manners."

She clicked her tongue, disgust etched on her face. "Get out!"

Kaelin's eyes narrowed. "You're kicking me out?"

"Yes, I am," she replied firmly.

With a snarl, Kaelin stomped out of the room, leaving us in tense silence. The girl's fingers gently pressed against my wounds, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. Her hands were warm, and her touch sent shivers down my spine. As she tended to me, she began to hum a soft, soothing melody. Her voice was like honey – sweet and calming.

"Shh, you're safe now," she whispered.

I gazed up at her, my vision clearing. "Who...who are you?" I whispered.

"I'm Lysa," she said softly. "And you've got nothing to be afraid of."

"Lysa." I mumbled beneath my breath, unable to take my eyes away from her. There was something about her hair that I couldn't quite ignore, it reminded me of bloodshed — the beauty of it, and how I couldn't ignore the attraction that drew me to it.

Just as Lysa's gentle touch began to soothe my wounds, the door burst open, and Kaelin stormed in. His face twisted in anger, his stern eyes blazing with fury.

"You think you can coddle him?" Kaelin growled, his voice low and menacing.

His heavy footsteps shook the floor as he bolted toward us. Lysa, caught off guard, was pushed to the ground, falling on her back. Kaelin grasped my hair, yanking me upright. I grunted, pain shooting through my scalp.

"What the heck do you think you're doing, Kaelin?" Lysa demanded, scrambling to her feet.

Kaelin's grip tightened. "You can't show kindness to a slave," he snarled.

"He isn't a slave!" Lysa protested.

Kaelin's laughter was cold. "He is. And I aim to sell him. Angels like him fetch a handsome price on the market."

My heart sank. I was nothing more than a commodity to him. Lysa's eyes flashed with anger. "You can't do that!"

Kaelin's smile twisted. "Watch me."

With a cruel tug, he started dragging me across the floor, my hair ripping from my scalp. I cried out, unable to ignore the pain. As we left the room, I caught a glimpse of Lysa's horrified face. Her eyes locked onto mine, filled with a promise: she would help me. Regret washed over me. Why had I left Eden? Why had I ventured into this treacherous realm? Kaelin's grip remained unyielding, his fingers tangled in my hair like a vice.

"You'll bring me a fortune," he whispered, his breath cold against my ear.

I stumbled, my legs trembling beneath me. The floor blurred beneath my feet as Kaelin continued to drag me, my hair ripping from my scalp, as I stumbled through the doorway. We entered a dimly lit corridor, lined with iron bar doors on either side. Faint lamps cast an eerie glow – shades of blue, orange, and purple dancing across the walls.

My gaze drifted to the cells, and my heart sank. Small children huddled in the shadows, some with arched ears, marking them as Fae. Others had wings – gossamer wings, chipped and battered.

Were they all commodities for sale?

I felt a surge of horror, mixed with despair. How could they do this? As we passed by the cells, the children's eyes locked onto mine, filled with fear and desperation. I tried to reach out, but Kaelin's grip remained unyielding. We stopped at a cell door, and Kaelin shoved me inside. I stumbled, falling to the cold stone floor.

The door clanged shut behind me, and I heard the sound of locks clicking into place. Kaelin's voice echoed outside my cell. "Seal of Binding, by blood and bone."

A faint glow emanated from the bars as Kaelin chanted, his voice dripping with malevolence. I saw his hand, cut and bleeding, as he used his own blood to cast the sealing spell. The magic wrapped around me, suffocating. I wanted to ignore the pain, lift my dizzy eyes, and gaze at Kaelin. He stood outside my cell, chuckling.

"Finally, we have something worth a fortune," he said, his crimson eyes gleaming.

Anger and helplessness warred within me. I was trapped, a prisoner to be sold. I gritted my teeth, fighting against the despair.