Obsidian Wings

She was young, just over the age of twenty. She was the embodiment of beauty and the angels called her Serafina. It was a particularly chilling autumn day with a squall in the forecast, he would never forget it. The clouds had threatened to spill their contents all day, littering the lithosphere with a despondent gray. For some reason the down pour held it's self off as if it was waiting for the perfect moment. Just within the heart of the surrounding primeval two fleeting figures met and here Serafina was betrayed. Her inamorato had admitted his deceit; it had been nothing but an act, his ardency was mere lust and what she knew of him was in fact false. All the things she had been told, everything about him. He was none of it. He was a thespian with a desire for passion. The celestial beings cried for her that day and the droplets fell for her alone. After his murder she had taken flight. Tears streamed down her bronze cheeks, limbs rushed past her, hitting her physique with little sympathy. The algid currents had taken their toll upon her and the monks found her the next day upon the cathedral's doorstep. She was hardly holding onto life and within hours her body failed her and she passed to the higher realms.

The female figure shifted in the umbrage, she slinked forward, halting at his side. "Father Mathias." Her voice was delicate; it was angelic with a callous alluring tone. His gaze shifted towards her, and his orbs fell with a craving desire upon the flawless countenance of Serafina. Her ebony locks fell gently around her visage though her eyes rested not upon him but instead the hearth.

The priest shifted uneasily before sighing softly. Serafina was beyond his reach for eternity by his oath to God. She cared for business and not pleasure. Her heart was closed to him. "Our guests," Mathias paused, trying to pick his words carefully, "Are downstairs with Brother Ayman. I believe they are compromising their stay. He will report to me promptly. Do as you must."

Her features were flawed with a frown. She didn't need his permission for anything, and he knew she would remind him of that. Her mandate from heaven was higher then his and she made sure he never forgot her authority over him. Serafina's piercing gaze met his, her facial expression returning to apathetic state. "You should rest more; stress does no good for human body." She left as quiescently as she had arrived and again he was alone in his room.

Mathias leaned against the arm of the mahogany chair, scrutinizing the door. Tonight would remain mostly uneventful. However, in the future he could sense bloodshed; he could almost smell the warm liquid leaving the corpse. He closed his eyes with a soft exhale; hoping things did not have to be the way they were.

Chapter III

Rie

Astarael

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