Chapter 18 Teaching Her to Fly
AZRAETH'S POV
"You're Morwenna," I breathe, staring at the woman in the doorway. "The real Morwenna. How is this possible?"
"Soul splitting." She steps into the cathedral like she owns it. "When Seraphina's blade struck, I had a second—one second—to cast a final spell. I split my soul into three pieces. One went to reincarnation." She gestures at Mireya. "One went to you through the bond promise. And one stayed here, hidden, waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Mireya demands. Her voice sounds strange—angry and confused.
"For the angels to fall. For the demon king to rise. For the Old Gods to wake up." Morwenna looks at both of us. "Everything that's happened—your summoning, the rebellion, defeating Seraphina—it's all following the prophecy I set in motion five hundred years ago."
Through the bond, I feel Mireya's rage building. "You planned this? You planned for me to exist? To suffer? To be betrayed and suppressed my entire life?"
"I planned for us to win." Morwenna's silver eyes are calm. "Your suffering made you strong. Made you angry enough to fight back. Made you into the weapon we needed."
"I'm not a weapon!"
"No. You're a queen. My better half, actually." Morwenna smiles slightly. "I was too soft. Too forgiving. The soul piece that became you got all my rage and fire. That's why you succeeded where I failed."
"Stop talking like we're separate people!" Mireya's shadows explode around her. "I'm not your 'piece.' I'm not your plan! I'm me!"
"Of course you are." Morwenna doesn't seem bothered by the display of power. "That's exactly the point. You became your own person. Stronger than I ever was." She turns to me. "And you love her more than you loved me. Don't you?"
The question catches me off guard. Through the bond, I feel Mireya holding her breath.
"Yes," I admit quietly. "Morwenna was light and hope. Mireya is chaos and rage. I loved you. But I'm in love with her."
Morwenna nods like I confirmed something. "Good. You'll need that love for what's coming. The Old Gods feed on fear and doubt. Love is the only thing they can't corrupt."
"Who are the Old Gods?" I demand. "I've never heard of beings powerful enough to create angels."
"Because they've been sleeping for millennia. Locked away in a dimension outside reality." Morwenna pulls out an ancient book—one I recognize from my throne room, five hundred years ago. "But defeating the angels weakened the seals. They're waking up. And when they fully emerge, they'll try to reclaim this world. Reshape it. Destroy anything that resists."
"How long do we have?"
"Days. Maybe a week." Morwenna opens the book to a page marked with blood. "The weapon I designed—it's not just to destroy angels. It's to strengthen the seals keeping the Old Gods locked away. That's why it requires such sacrifice. That's why it cuts off demon realm access. We need every ounce of power focused on this world, protecting it from what's coming."
Through the bond, Mireya and I process this together. The weapon wasn't about freedom. It was about survival.
"So our choice is: use the weapon and trap Azraeth here forever, or face gods that could destroy everything?" Mireya's voice is bitter. "Some choice."
"I never said it was fair." Morwenna closes the book. "But it's necessary. The Old Gods created angels to rule humanity. When humans developed supernatural abilities—demons, witches, shifters—the gods saw it as corruption. They want to purge everything and start over with a clean slate."
"They want genocide," I realize. "Of everyone."
"Yes. Angels were supposed to prepare the way. Eliminate supernatural threats. Make humanity weak and controllable again." Morwenna looks grim. "But you ruined that plan by defeating the angels. So now the gods will do it themselves."
"We need proof," Mireya says. "Something more than your word."
Morwenna gestures outside. "Look at the sky."
We rush to the cathedral entrance. The night sky is wrong. Stars are disappearing. Reality itself seems to warp and twist in places.
"They're already breaking through," Morwenna says quietly. "Little by little. Testing the seals. And when they fully emerge..." She trails off.
Through the bond, I feel Mireya's terror matching mine.
"How do we stop them?" Mireya asks.
"The weapon. It's the only thing powerful enough to reinforce the seals. But it needs to be activated at the prison ruins where I hid it." Morwenna meets my eyes. "And it needs a demon king's willing sacrifice. Either your life force, or your connection to the demon realm. Choose."
"There has to be another way," Mireya insists.
"There isn't. I spent five hundred years looking. This is it." Morwenna's voice softens. "I'm sorry. Truly. But someone has to make the sacrifice, or everyone dies."
A massive tremor shakes the cathedral. Not an earthquake. Something worse.
The sky tears open above us. Not a portal. A wound in reality itself.
And through it, something emerges. Massive. Ancient. Wrong.
It has too many limbs. Too many eyes. Its form shifts and changes, like reality can't decide what shape it should be.
"An Old God," Morwenna breathes. "Already. They're coming faster than I calculated."
The thing speaks. Its voice makes my bones vibrate: "CHILDREN OF CORRUPTION. YOU HAVE BROKEN OUR ORDER. YOU WILL BE UNMADE."
It reaches down. Reality warps around its limbs. Everything it touches dissolves into nothingness.
"Run!" I grab Mireya and Morwenna. "Everyone, evacuate the cathedral!"
Demons scatter, flying in every direction. The Old God's limbs sweep through buildings, erasing them from existence. Not destroying—erasing. Like they never existed.
We fly toward the prison ruins. It's the only place with enough old magic to potentially hold off a god.
"The weapon!" Mireya shouts over the chaos. "Is it ready to activate?"
"Almost!" Morwenna dives through collapsing buildings. "But someone needs to make the choice! Now!"
Through the bond, I feel Mireya's determination hardening.
"I'll do it," she says. "I'll sacrifice my demon powers. Lose my wings. Become human again. But Azraeth stays alive and free."
"No!" I pull her closer as we fly. "You fought too hard to become powerful! I won't let you give that up!"
"And I won't let you die!" She's crying now. "Choose me this time! Choose my sacrifice instead of yours!"
"I can't—"
"You can! You will!" She grabs my face mid-flight. "I love you more than I love being powerful. Accept that!"
The Old God's limb reaches for us. We barely dodge.
We're running out of time. Out of options.
Morwenna flies ahead, leading us to the prison ruins. "Whatever you're going to decide, decide now! We have seconds!"
I look at Mireya. This woman who summoned me, freed me, fought beside me. Who's offering to give up everything she became to save me.
And I realize: she already made her choice. She chose me over power.
Now I have to choose: let her sacrifice herself, or make my own sacrifice first.
Through the bond, I feel her absolute determination. She'll activate that weapon whether I agree or not.
We land at the prison ruins. The weapon sits in the center—ancient metal and demon essence, pulsing with dark power.
"Who activates it?" Morwenna demands. "Choose now!"
Mireya steps forward. "I do. I—"
I grab her. Pull her back. "No."
"Azraeth, please—"
"I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself." I move toward the weapon. "Not when there's a third option."
"What third option?" Morwenna asks sharply.
I place my hand on the weapon. Feel it analyzing me. Calculating what it needs.
And through the bond, I send Mireya everything. My plan. My love. My goodbye.
"We both sacrifice," I say. "Together. Your demon powers and my demon realm connection. Combined, it should be enough to power the weapon without killing either of us."
"But that means—" Mireya's eyes widen. "We'd both lose part of ourselves. I'd be human again. You'd be trapped here forever."
"Yes." I extend my other hand to her. "But we'd be together. Alive. Free. Isn't that what we wanted?"
Through the bond, I feel her tears. Her love. Her acceptance.
She takes my hand. Together, we touch the weapon.
Pain explodes through both of us. The weapon drains our power—her demon-touched abilities, my connection to the demon realms. Everything that made us supernatural, being ripped away.
Through the bond, we hold on to each other. Anchoring one another through the agony.
The weapon activates. Brilliant light shoots into the sky, striking the Old God. The creature screams. Reality seals itself around it, forcing it back through the wound.
The sky heals. The stars return. The threat, for now, is gone.
Mireya and I collapse beside the weapon. Drained. Changed.
I try to summon shadows. Nothing happens. My demon powers are gone. Permanently.
Mireya tries to spread her wings. They're gone too. She's human again.
"It worked," Morwenna says quietly. She looks sad. "The seals are reinforced. The Old Gods are trapped again. But you—" She looks at us. "You're both mortal now. Human. Powerless."
Through the bond—still there, somehow still connecting us—I feel Mireya's emotions. Loss. Relief. Love.
"We're alive," she says softly.
"We're together," I add.
"And we're free." She takes my hand. "That's enough."
But as we sit in the ruins, I notice something. The bond is changing. Without my demon essence, without her powers, it shouldn't exist. But it does. And it's growing stronger.
"Morwenna," I say slowly. "Why is the bond still active?"