Amalric examined the beach ball sized globe to the left of the throne room, it’s surface appearing to be made of smoky liquid. He squinted and pinched a small section of the land, and threw it toward the wall. It expanded to the shape of a large screen; the image zoomed in on a dark scene. A man enveloped in a black cloud of electricity. He wore a black hoodie with the hood up, both hands in the front pocket and his head down as he walked down a lively city sidewalk at night. He weaved through a few streets lined with bars and run-down shops. Passing by a dimly lit alley, he stopped abruptly, taking two steps back and looking down into its darkness.
A young girl, about 22, stumbled down the pavement. Alone, she tried to brace herself against the damp brick wall. Her shoulder length red hair fell into her face as she lurched over behind a dumpster, her body expelling as much of the alcohol she had consumed as it could.
The man eyed her greedily, taking in her blue high heels, her bare legs, her short, skin-tight black pleather skirt, the bright blue sleeveless tank top encrusted with sparkles. He quietly approached her.
“Are you alright?” he asked her quietly.
She spun around and threw a hand to her chest, startled. “I’m…fine,” she replied, a slur in her speech.
“Are your friends nearby? Do you need help getting back?”
“No… they all went home…without me,” she stammered.
“I see,” he replied licking his lips, eyeing her body again.
“I should… get going,” she mumbled as she tried to pass by him.
He grabbed her arm. “Not a chance,” he said devilishly. He slammed the back of his hand across her face, knocking her to the ground. He grabbed hold of one of her ankles and dragged her further into the dark abyss, her drunken body unable to fight back.
Amalric shook his head. “Ozul! I have another one for you,” he summoned.
A tall, olive skinned warrior entered through the massive doors of the throne room, his glimmering gray wings resting gracefully behind him. “Sir? Which faction this time?” he inquired.
“Lust. A pure sin soul. This poor girl,” he said, gesturing to the screen, “will sadly not meet the fate that was designed for her. Go now, while there’s still a soul to guard.”
Ozul bowed briefly and turned toward the door. He moved his hands through the air, palms down, like straightening a cloth on a table. The floor slowly opened, creating a circular space large enough for his body and expansive wings to pass through. He jumped through, and the hole closed up behind him.
Amalric turned back to the screen. With a flick of his wrist, he banished the image back to where it had come from. He looked to his left, at the throne. It was stunning, intimidating. Made of crystal, and wrapped in carvings of roses and swords. The seat and backrest, made of obsidian, were etched with ancient inscriptions, blessings and curses. Every inch of that throne was symbolic of who he was. Blessed and cursed. Good and evil, as it had been since his creation. A creation exploded into being from the love and hate that God and Lucifer both felt for each other in the exact moment of Lucifer’s expulsion from Heaven. An eternity of reigning over purgatory, or Earth as the souls called it. An existence of solitude, shut off from both God and Lucifer. Maintaining order and guiding fate’s design would be the closest thing to love that he would ever know, invisible to everyone but his soldiers; The Guardians.
He sighed and looked to his right, to the obsidian spiral staircase that led to the garden above. The garden always quieted his rage at seeing the pure sin souls in action. His only wish was that he had someone to share its beauty with. Feeling apathetic, he moved toward the staircase and began to climb the many stairs. With each step, the fiery tips of his massive wings brushed along the delicate gold bars that lined either side of the staircase. Bright white faded into gray and black at the bottom, bordered by a small amount of fire at the blackened ends; his glorious wings were the only one of their kind among the many angels he had encountered. The archangels had black, the angels in Heaven had white, The Guardians had their gray, but Amalric’s wings were as alone as the body the belonged to.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he ran one hand through his slightly wavy but luminous brown hair with a long blink as he inhaled deeply. He opened his neon blue eyes with a sigh and pressed through the heavy iron door to the garden.
The door opened up into an expansive, breathtaking garden. The size of three football fields, it contained the most beautiful and aromatic flowers from every climate imaginable. The river rock paths were lined with trees and shrubs of every kind, interrupted only by ornately carved stone benches placed about every 50 feet. The ceiling was a large glass dome that held in a completely separate weather system, specifically designed for the foliage below. In the center of it all was a perfect little oasis. A small pond into which an elegant waterfall flowed, surrounded by ferns and a large weeping willow. Beneath the willow hung a swinging bench, brimming with sumptuous, velvety pillows.
Amalric eased himself onto the swinging bench, throwing his feet up to one end and positioning some of the pillows behind his head. Placing one hand behind his head and the other on his chest, he closed his eyes. He had no need for sleep, but the actions of the pure sin souls combined with the abysmal loneliness he felt exhausted him. So, he daydreamed about a time and place where the purest forms of evil had been vanquished and he could live side by side with a great love. In his mind, he knew that the battle against those most wicked souls would ever cease to exist, but it still brought a smile to his face to think that maybe, someday.
The scent of the flora and fauna surrounding him and the sound of the waterfall gently bubbling into the pond soothed him into a somewhat dream-like state, and he was finally able to relax himself into contentment. He laid there for a while, listening to the water and breathing deeply, when he heard the garden door shut firmly. Reluctantly, he sat back up and waited for the footsteps to draw nearer. It was Ozul, the lieutenant of The Guardians. He addressed Amalric with a bow.
“The pure sin soul has been dealt with, sir,” he stated.
“Very good, Ozul. Anything else to report?” Amalric asked.
“Our foot soldiers also gathered 12 others; 3 Gluttony, 2 Sloth, 2 Greed, 1 Wrath, 1 Lust, 2 Pride, and 1 Envy. They have been placed in the vaults. Corporal Valerian also received word of a strange presence in a city called Olympia. Shall I send Private Xenos to investigate?”
“Good work. Are you certain it’s not just a pure sin soul?” Amalric questioned.
“Yes, sir. The soul’s aura contains the electric field of one, but the color is purple, not black. Which would also mean that it is not a plain human soul either, since their auras are green with no electric field,” Ozul confirmed.
“Very well then. See what Private Xenos can find out and report back. You may go.”
Ozul bowed once more and made his exit.
Interesting, indeed. I’m sure Corporal Valerian must just be mistaken, Amalric thought to himself while walking back to the throne room. They have all been under a lot of pressure lately with the increase in the emergence of pure sin souls. Mistakes happen. Or so I hope.
