"You are not as you were, Arella, daughter of Camael." The reflection grinned. "You feel it too, do you not?"
Arella’s hands clenched into fists, "You are lying." Arella hissed, but even as she said those words, she could still feel the unnatural energy coursing through her, clawing at her insides. What she felt could not be holy power. It was sothing else.
And worst of all, she did not hate it. Dare she even say, it felt good.
She shoved the thought away, disgusted with herself, "I am an angel," she spat, standing up straighter.
The reflection smiled, wider, "An angel you say?"
The words sent a chill down her spine and Arella clenched her fist, "I do not care for this ga. There is an attack on my palace. On the ho that the demon king has provided. The place that I am coming to terms is my new ho."
"I am not anything other than what I have always known myself to be."
"You lie to yourself," The reflection interrupted, stepping close enough that their faces were only inches apart. The dark voids that were its eyes bore into her, "you lie despite knowing how you feel."
Arella swallowed hard, refusing to flinch.
The closer the reflection got, the stronger the scent they carried was. It was an earthy scent, one that reminded Arella of her garden back in the human realm. The loamy fragrance of soil after a storm, tinged with the bite of crushed leaves. It slled of life, of roots reaching deep and branches stretching toward the sky. There was sothing grounding about it, sothing real, yet it did nothing to steady the storm that was brewing inside her.
The reflection’s lips curled, "Or perhaps, am I sothing that you are pretending does not exist. Sothing you have forgotten."
"Forgotten?" Arella echoed. "What does that an? What do you an?"
The whispers in the dark void surged, and a chorus of voices hissing words she could not understand passed by her ears.
"You need to rember. You are the key."
"Key." The voices suddenly surged, whisper shouting the words. Arella turned around, searching for the owner of the voices. However, the darkness persisted. The voices seed to swirl around her, overlapping and layering over each other. It was as if there were a thousand unseen mouths whispering close to her ears at once.
’Rember. Rember.’
Arella clenched her jaw, shaking her head. "No." She pressed the base of her palms over her ears, and shut her eyes, mumbling no over and over again. The voices persisted, in her head, in her mind. Then, suddenly, as quickly as they begun, they stopped. Arella peeked through half lidded eyes.
The reflection stood there still.
"I do not understand. What am I supposed to rember." Her voice was firm, but the confusion beneath it gnawed at her.
The voices hissed again, but this ti, Arella could not understand them. The reflection’s smile widened, but it gave no answer. Instead, it raised a hand, the long and slender fingers stretching towards her.
Arella took a small step back but there was sothing pushing her whole body forward, preventing her from moving away from the touch of the reflection.
Faced with no other option, Arella braced herself, expecting pain.
However, when the reflection’s finger’s brushed her forehead, a flood of images exploded in her mind, causing pain to burst through her skull. Arella scread, as visions, or perhaps mories, flooded her mind in a torrent.
She saw fire, and ruin, golden cities crumbling to ash. She saw winged figures, with wings that were torn apart, falling from the skies. Their halos were shattered, with the light extinguished.
In the center of it all was.... herself.
Or sothing that looked like her.
Standing atop a battlefield of destruction, with wings that were as dark as the night sky, and eyes that glowed gold, the figure held a long staff with a crystal orb which was as dark as night. Blood dripped down the figure’s cheeks, and her smile was sothing Arella could only describe as madness.
The figure stood at the heart of the carnage, wings spread wide, a storm of power crackling at her fingertips. The battlefield stretched endlessly in every direction. Not just angels lay among the ruins, but demons, humans, creatures Arella had never seen before. So bore armor she did not recognize—was it tal? No.
It was unlike any tal she had ever seen before.
Who were they? When was this?
Arella was sure she was invisible. Her soul floated sowhere just next to the crying angel. She could feel the sadness that radiated off of her skin, the pain of whatever decision she had had to make. Arella was tempted to stretch out her hand, to wipe those blood stained tears that ran down the figure’s cheeks.
Just as she was stretching out her hand, the whole scene shifted.
A great door lood before her now, a massive door, an ancient door with a surface shimring with golden and violet script. This ti, she stood between two figures. One was an angel male, with golden eyes, and a demon female with dark brown eyes.
Their expressions were grim and their gazes locked on her as if waiting.
A voice, one that was not her own, echoed through the vision.
"It must be sealed. The balance depends on it. The future depends on it." The voice was male, although it ca from her. And Arella looked at the two that stood with her.
The demon reached out, their clawed fingers pressing against the door’s smooth surface. "Which future?"
"It certainly will not be our own." The angel answered.
"But it is for the greater good." Arella felt her lips move, as she said those words.
"That is what you have been saying all this ti, Kratel." The demon female laughed.
"I say it because we both know that I am right." Arella felt herself say once more.
Then, the door trembled, and the darkness swallowed everything and the vision shattered.
Arella gasped, her body convulsing as she was ripped back into the void. She staggered, her legs giving out beneath her.
The reflection stood above her, watching with its hollow eyes.
"Now you see."
Arella panted, pressing her hands to the unseen ground, trying to steady herself. The mories—were they mories?—still burned behind her eyes.
"What was that?" she whispered, voice hoarse. "What am I supposed to be rembering?"
The reflection crouched, tilting its head. "You already know."
"I do not know."
"The more you deny it, the more you are unable to see. The more you are unable to understand. The more you are unable to feel." The reflection stood, "Because it is you, I shall show you more." The finger was raised once more, and this ti, it was pressed to the crown of her head.
This ti, the pain was instantaneous, and it left Arella unable to breathe.
A piercing scream tore from Arella’s throat.
Her body burned.
It was as if her very essence was being unraveled, stripped layer by layer until nothing remained but raw, searing agony. Her bones felt like they were cracking, shifting under an unknown force. Her wings spasd violently, feathers the feathers falling off in a white flurry.
"No—no!" she gasped, thrashing, but the void held her still.
Her veins felt like they were turning molten. The visions, the mories, whatever they were, crashed into her in waves, each more painfully violent than the last.
Arella curled into herself, unable to feel anything except the pain. Her mind was being torn apart, as information poured into it. It was as if she was seeing the world from the beginning.
No.
It is as if she was the beginning.
"Kratel! No!" A voice rang in her head.
"It is for the greater good!" Her lips said.
"Adriel!" Another voice called out.
"Jequn!" Yet another na called out.
"Malakbel!"
"Tamiel!"
"Zuriel!"
The more voices she heard, the more it felt like her brain was splitting in two.
Arella’s head snapped back, her vision fracturing as the nas echoed through her skull. Each syllable was a hamr blow against her mind, shattering her thoughts, her identity. She felt herself slipping, unraveling, coming apart at the seams.
Who were they?
Who was she?
The nas—Jequn. Malakbel. Tamiel. Zuriel. They weren’t just nas. Were they? They were people. She could _feel_ them—flashes of light, laughter, pain, sorrow—faces blurred yet it was as if she had known them forever.
Familiar.
But the strongest na of all—the one that roared through her being like a storm—
Kratel.
Arella choked on a breath, gripping her head as the pain sharpened, white-hot and unbearable. It wasn’t just mories flooding back. It was power.
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