Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 02

The hum of it all reverberated through her like a ripple through water, making Crucifel's teeth feel on the verge of chattering as she lead the hymn before the crowd in the town square.

Her wings were spread out wide behind her, catching the rays of the sun on each feather like they were gilt along their edges.

The sound of the crowd as their voices rose up around her was a comforting, familiar melody that she knew well from thousands of repetitions.

Oh, but it hurt her heart, didn't it?

Peering out at the gathered angels in the square through her pale lashes, Crucifel swept her eyes across the fervent faces of as many as she could.

There were some with expressions serene and sincere as her own, some with faces twisted in quiet desperation.

More still seemed tired, their heads bowed and fingers curled up towards the sky as if in wordless plea.

Crucifel closed her eyes once more before she could reach the ones who didn't just make her chest ache but her skin crawl with guilt.

The ones who looked at her, her specifically, with something like accusation.

Like she was the cause of their disconnect from their Creator.

It wasn't a secret that there were angels who saw a prophetess who'd never met the Creator herself as a blunder on her parents' part.

In a kingdom of so many, it made sense that there would be a multitude of opinions on the matter. She knew that she would never be able to please everyone, even if she tried her hardest.

That didn't make her heart any lighter as her voice thrummed with the crowd, eyes shutting tighter as she willed for something, anything to answer their heartfelt call to the universe.

"Within walls of holy bone, we bow our heads and pray.

Veiled by spiraled paths of stars, His loyal, seeking strays.

Our souls seek Thee, Lord, our hearts open wide.

Celestial Father above all, we wait the day we reunite."

Crucifel felt the weight of the plea on her bones, weighing down her wings as she let the final note spill from her lips and over the crowd like a wave crashing against the shore.

There was a lingering stillness as the last of the humming died down, it left her feeling an odd mixture of steady and empty.

At peace, she reminded herself, at peace.

"Amen." An echo followed her closing, one last aftershock of sound.

Crucifel turned her lips up into a gentle smile as she braced herself, then opened her eyes to look into the countless pairs of hopeful ones staring back at her.

Oh, God, please stop.

Please, don't look at her like that. She was trying, she was trying so hard.

Crucifel smiled wider, a tear breaking free and slipping down her cheek like a falling star.

"You all have such lovely voices," she projected her voice, careful to keep her tone gentle at its volume. "It is truly a blessing and honor to lead you in such a passionate hymn. I can feel in my heart that such sincere praise will never be for naught."

Crucifel's long, white hair caught the breeze and rippled across her shoulders and back, a strand clinging to the wet trail down her cheek. "Go, with love and hope in your hearts."

Even as most of the crowd dispersed, the prophetess didn't let herself relax just yet.

There were the stragglers that waited for a moment of her time and reassurance, which she gave freely.

They spoke to her, gripping her hand or laying a splayed palm on her shoulder or wing, sharing their burdens and troubles with her.

Many of them had lost loved ones to the increasing demonic activity, or else were struggling to find a purpose in their lives.

She knew she could not do much to ease their fears, but she did her best to help them carry it with her wings that felt so fragile in moments like this.

Crucifel was not their Creator, she never would be nor wanted to be. If this pressure was even a thousandth or millionth of what He felt, she wouldn't survive it.

But if she couldn't be their Creator, she could be a friend, a sister, a daughter.

It was her duty to the angels of Edenara, no matter how much weighed upon her.

This was her resolve.

Amen.

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It was easy to take solace in the serenity of the gardens with their countless ethereal blooms and trees.

The sprawling royal gardens had always been a place of peace to Crucifel, some place for her to relax and hide away from the rest of the kingdom.

This was why when a light hand touched her shoulder, she startled and flared her wings wide in surprise.

Promethiel ducked away from the spread appendages, chuckling and circling around to lean on the tree in front of Crucifel.

"So skittish, sister dear." Promethiel simpered, his wings ruffling in amusement against the bark. "I'm surprised you didn't go flapping away."

Crucifel's expression darkened, but she kept her distance as she studied Promethiel.

"What do you want?" She asked, voice flat.

Promethiel laughed and leaned his head against the tree, running fingers through the long hair framing the side of his face and twirling a white strand around a digit innocently. "Do I need a reason to visit my beloved sister on such a fine day?"

Crucifel didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

"Why is that?" Promethiel arched a brow, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

Crucifel remained silent, letting her expression do all of the speaking. The hate in her eyes spelled it out easily enough; Murderer. Traitor. Judas.

Promethiel exhaled theatrically and straightened, folding his hands behind his back as he looked at his sister.

"I know," he sighed, "You don't trust me anymore. That's fair. I've got a fair bit of blood on my hands at this point, don't I?"

"I hope one day you can atone for your sins, Promethiel," Crucifel said coldly. "This isn't you."

Promethiel tsked, his golden eyes gleaming warmly. "Oh darling, maybe you just don't know the real me. That aside, did you forget how our parents weren't saints either?"

"None of us will ever be as perfect as the Creator, Promethiel."

He scoffed, looking at her with a wide, mocking grin. "Is that right? Perfection, perfection, perfection. That's what it all comes down to isn't it?"

Promethiel stepped closer, spitting upon the stardust speckled grass beneath them.

"If I recall, you were quite horrified when you first learned of Father's laws regarding the fallen. It was...cruel, wasn't it, what he did? So heartless for such an angelic ruler."

"It was necessary," Crucifel said quietly, not at all convincing to his ears. That was their parents talking, wasn't it? Even in death they vexed him. "In the end, to keep Edenara safe."

Promethiel shook his head. "No, Crucifel. It was a selfish abuse of power, they just needed fodder and they used their stock of blasphemous prisoners to make their goals happen."

He smirked, stepping forward again and grabbing his sister's arm. "And then there is the issue with the trembling little things that pray to our lost Creator, they let them suffer didn't they? Saying it wasn't our place to step in anymore."

"You know that's not what it was," Crucifel retorted, her expression sharp as a blade. "Father did step in. He intervened as much as he could, given the terrible state of things above and below. You know he tried his best!"

"Father knew exactly what he was doing," Promethiel replied. "He gave the swine a stick but only the idea of a carrot, clever, but oh so cruel. Shame that he only ended up making things worse."

"Don't make me burn you again," Crucifel hissed, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Will you do it if I say please?" Promethiel purred, his eyes growing hooded.

Crucifel looked at him with revulsion, and Promethiel held up his hands in placation. "No, I suppose not, I'd probably enjoy it too much for your taste."

She glared at him. "If you're done, I'd like to end our visit. Your face is making me ill."

Promethiel laughed, letting his hands fall to his side. "I'll see you around, my dear sister. Perhaps we can have a chat over supper?"

"No." Crucifel said simply, turning to leave.

Promethiel was once more left with an amused smirk as he watched Crucifel walk away.

She was still beautiful, even with such burning eyes.

Perhaps even more so because of them.

As much as he would love to trail after her a little longer, duty called him back to cold, harsh reality.

So with one last glimpse in the direction she'd left in, Promethiel let his smile drop to something more somber and tired.

God, he was exhausted.