10 - CAELITH - GO TO HELL!

Seven chairs. Too wide, too tall.

Seven thrones of dark, carved wood, set in a half-circle. A harsh white light beams down from above, flooding the center, leaving the rest of the chamber in shadow. Too theatrical. That’s how they like their stage.

And on the thrones — the same as always. The Council. White forms, faceless, their heads nothing but blinding light. No features, just a brilliance that sears your eyes if you stare too long. Their voices echo from nowhere, as if carried through space itself.

They think themselves gods. But they’re only angels.

Gabriel presides. At his side, the others: Uriel, Raphael, Michael…

Angels — the damned landlords of the universe. Humans have it wrong. These bastards never show mercy. They’re nothing but celestial bureaucrats.

— Caelith’s vicarius was attacked in his own territory — Azrion starts. — Sentinels. I want authorization to strike back at that church.

The six murmur among themselves, their words sealed from my ears.

— Denied. — Gabriel answers, not even glancing at his brothers.

Azrion’s jaw tightens, shadows cutting through his gaze.

— They’re freer every day to strike us. And we’re chained by your rules.

— They are billions — I add, my tone low and calm. — When will this game start to even the field for us?

— Caelith. — Gabriel’s voice slices the air, firmer now. — Once more, as sons of humans, you were granted His mercy. You are stronger. You are immortal. But do not abuse it. The covenant is clear: your existence is tolerated, your need for blood is supplied, and the keeping of victus is permitted. The game is more than fair to you.

I stare back at them and smile. Every meeting, the same dance. A reminder that we’re aberrations — but ones with a so-called ‘right’ to exist, so long as we don’t disrupt the order they built.

Azrion, seeing he won’t win what he came for, shifts tactics. His gaze slides toward me, a smile full of malice stretching across his face.

— And what about the human, Cael? — Azrion presses. — The one you keep unmarked. The one you denied me, against my right. A crime, Master — keeping an AB- without a mark.

— I don’t know what he’s talking about. — I’d expected him to go there. I fold my arms across my chest, smiling with pure sarcasm.

Gabriel’s voice cuts through again:

 — Caelith, we will verify whether the human is marked. If not, she may be claimed by Azrion.

This is it — the moment they’re all waiting for. And I can’t disappoint them.

— Go to hell. — I grin as all seven rise.

I don’t know why I do this at every Council meeting, I swear. But pissing off the holy ones is the only thing that makes these gatherings worth it.

I know what’s coming. And fuck, it’s going to hurt.

The second the words leave my mouth, invisible shackles snap around my arms. A force beyond me wrenches me around, turning my back to them. Invisible whips slice through the air, and when the first strike tears across my back, my body bows hard.

And I get a taste of what hell must be.

Azrion’s laughter fills the chamber as he walks out. The lashes keep falling—again and again. They’ll keep at it as long as I’m smiling. I watch my blood drip, but I don’t feel it running. My skin burns like it’s being melted off, my bones sawed through with a dull blade.

My knees and palms hit the floor.

And then — nothing.

—------------------ // —------------------ 

When I come to, the Council chamber is nothing but an empty room in some office building. Fluorescent lights hum overhead — lights that weren’t there before.

I try to stand, and my body reminds me what I did.

Fuck. This hurts.

Walking to my car feels like hell itself. Being the son of an angel didn’t grant me my father’s travel perks.

I don’t know how I make it back to Nox. The daylight claws at my eyes, blurring everything. And the pain… I swear my bones are laid bare.

I slam into the steel dumpsters at the back entrance, practically dragging myself inside. Zara. I need her. Need to feed before I black out again.

Samiel rushes in and shoulders my weight.

And then the scent hits.

Her.

That damned scent twists my gut, makes my chest lock up, a new wave of agony tearing through me.

— Get her out of here — I almost growl at Samiel as the office door shuts.

I drag Zara onto my lap, but the only thing I want from her is what lies between her head and shoulders. When I bare my mouth to sink in, I see the marks.

— Eryon was hungry — she says, smiling like it’s an apology.

A snarl rips from me.

— You know I always need help after Council meetings — I snap at Samiel.

He smirks, folding his arms across his chest.

— Then maybe it’s time you stop provoking the uncles.

— I swear, Samiel, when I heal from this shit, you’re going to regret your little jokes.

He just laughs.

— I know someone who can help you. And I’m sure she’s already waiting, even if she doesn’t realize it. Drink what you can from Zara, you’re going to need the strength.

I’m dying in pain, and the bastard still wants me to fuck that woman.

I can barely drag in a full breath… but the thought of throwing her onto my bed… 

And my damned cock is already straining against my pants.