Stand for Justice: Celestial Downfall, #3

By A.J. Flowers

Stand for Justice is the jaw-dropping conclusion to the Celestial Downfall Trilogy. After executing a brave, if not foolhardy plan to usurp the Seraphim, Azrael’s battle has only just begun. For the first time in history, humans, demons, and angels are working together. Her dream of a future where angelic slavery is abolished is within her grasp. But every deal comes with a price. Is Azrael ready to pay?

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.J. Flowers
• Release date: Mar 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386103608

A.J. Flowers

A.J. Flowers is a fantasy author, book blogger, and automotive engineer in Detroit. She loves her writing, her work, and above all, her faith and family. When not writing or designing, you can find her saving the world from annihilation on her favorite video games side-by-side with her Dutch husband and princess Blue Russian kitty named Mina. To follow AJ's blog for new writing tips, head on over to https://ajflowers.wordpress.com

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Home

Azrael inhaled the familiar musky tones of sea salt and soil that resided on the outskirts of Manor Saffron. It felt good to be home.

She’d thought that Celestia would have become her home, but her stay in the angel city had only enforced the truth: Terra was where she belonged. She felt it in her soul with the solid ground beneath her feet and a tapestry of clouds above her head, brilliant and warm with natural sunlight just as it should be. She stretched her wings and soaked in the rays that burst over the horizon in a joyous wave. A sea of golden trees boasting crystalline eggs shed rainbows across the carpet of fine dust of her new island. She’d torn the Birthing Forests away from the Seraphim’s menace and lust for power. The angel children would now be safe, born here on the ground where they could learn what it meant to be part of the world, instead of hiding in a looming totem above it.

Angels joined her in the moment, the ones that had fled Celestia and followed her away from the Seraphim’s bloodthirsty rage. Their fanning wings sent fine golden particles into the air, making her suck in a breath as the world sparkled with magic.

But all was not Light and glory. The demon, Xorn, stared her down with bottomless black eyes and his lips quirked with delight. She couldn’t enjoy her triumph. There was a price to pay for a demon’s help.

Even if their exchange had been part of a deal, his gaze glimmered with pride. His power could only divide and destroy, but she’d done the incredible. She’d kept the entire Birthing Forests safe in a controlled descent into Terra’s waters. She’d inspired an entire legion to follow her away from the angel city. The angels had abandoned the Seraphim and his claim to the throne, putting their faith and hopes in the hands of a hybrid.

You have surpassed my wildest dreams, Xorn said with his lips wrapping over perfectly white teeth in a charming smile. Look how they flock to you, my child. You are indeed a Queen of Angels.

The air hummed with tension as the angels watched Xorn, hands itching for golden blades to slice him down. Their feathers vibrated as they resisted the urge to strike. Their purple gazes fell to Azrael and waited for her command. Gabriel had promised that those who would follow her would do so in the face of impossible odds. Even now, when a demon lingered amongst their most precious of treasures, they trusted her to keep them all safe.

Gabriel lingered close to her side, his healed wings softly brushing hers with a familiarity she didn’t share with anyone else. She wanted to turn to him and run her fingers over his renewed skin that had been torn and corpse-white just moments before. He shouldn’t have healed, and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t simply a mirage of all her hopes and dreams come to haunt her.

But Xorn was right about one thing. She was the Queen of Angels now. And so she kept her head forward, facing a forest of unborn children with a demon lingering among the branches. Beyond his handsome face and honey-slick words was a dark and sinister truth. He was a dangerous demon, one who was a trickster who bathed in lies and dark magic.

Greed was no doubt one of his many sins. His gaze swept over the groves that glittered like diamonds that would make any thief drool with envy.

Xorn licked his lips before reaching out to the nearest tree. Its branches were snarled and twisted, as if it could protect the unborn child it held in its grasp. The demon’s fingers grazed crystalline leaves, threatening to force them aside to get to his prize.

Not that one, Azrael snapped.

Xorn’s reach retreated as he gave her a raised brow. The price must be paid, he reminded her. He’d rendered the angel city as part of a deal.

The magic of her promise tugged at her insides with a nauseating wave. She was a hybrid, and the part of her that had been born from Xorn’s dark madness bound her to their agreement. In exchange for his help, there had indeed been a terrible price.

Her deal with the demon had promised him a tree from the sacred orchard. This was the birthplace of angels, a forest she’d brought to Terra with his help. She may have freed the unborn from the Seraphim’s clutches, but the demon wanted one for himself. Demon deal or not, she wasn’t about to hand a single soul to this creature. She’d give him a tree, as promised, but she would not give him one of these. Come with me, she said and brushed past him.

Gabriel lingered in her shadow, ever a protective sentinel that she’d sorely missed. But now, she sensed his disapproval. His own fingers twitched at a golden spear strapped between his wings.

She’d hoped he would understand. He’d known that she’d dealt with Xorn before. It was how she’d regained her wings. In exchange for the power to change her fate as an Aedium slave of Manor Saffron, she’d given up the free will to kill the demon that had given her Darkness and suffering.

He hadn’t been surprised to learn of how she’d become the new Mistress of Manor Saffron. He even seemed to have approved of her ambition. But now, when she snuck a glance at him over her shoulder between the flutter of her wings, she matched his icy gaze.

Gabriel didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His judgment could have matched the Seraphim’s in the power of that single glance. She curled her fingers into fists as she looked forward again. He was just going to have to trust her on this one.

In spite of her determination, she suppressed a shiver and resisted the urge to shrink her wings to her back. She couldn’t look weak, not now when a legion of angels had fallen from Celestia to follow her by blind faith. They watched as they fluttered glimmering wings, sending dust to shed the ground with specks of gold. It was the remnants of Light she’d exuded during the exhaustive effort to bring the Birthing Forests to Terra. Her new army of angels watched her with perplexed expressions. Even if they wouldn’t question her outright, they waited to see what plans she had for the demon who lingered in their precious orchard.

You test my patience, Xorn said. Even against the fresh edge of his warning, his voice caressed her with dark temptation to obey. She’d learned by now that he had magic of his own and she brushed it away with a shrug of her shoulders.

Fear not, she said, keeping her gait steady as they progressed to the center of the forest. You shall get your tree.

Gabriel’s cold fingers latched onto her arm and she jolted to a stop. You promised him a tree? he snapped.

She didn’t like the spark of rage in his eyes. Gabriel had always been patient, calm, and a foundation she could always count on. Trust me, she hissed, and jerked free of his grasp.

Leaves crunched underfoot as the legion followed a respectful distance behind. She straightened, knowing that this was a moment they’d stand with her, or regret their choice and leave her just as fast as they’d arrived.

The mirage that blocked out the decrepit center of the forest that Damian had shown her was still in place, but now it shimmered as if weakened by the fall. It only took a flick of her wrist to send it crashing into dust. The desolation and death hit her with an icy draft that made her nose wrinkle.

Gabriel covered his face and gasped with disgust. By the Divine, he hissed, What have you done to the forest?

This wasn’t Azrael, Xorn said with a dangerous edge to his voice. If you want to know what sickness has taken over this place, then you should ask your precious Seraphim.

Azrael frowned. She didn’t need a demon to defend her, especially not to Gabriel. Enough, she snapped. She extended a finger to indicate one of the twisted, black trees. It had lost its luster long ago. There could have been hundreds, if not thousands, of seasons that had passed since those twisted branches had boasted a brilliance with life-giving might. Take your tree and leave.

A small laugh. Oh, child, he said with surprise. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched, his white teeth parting to let his forked tongue slip through as he tasted the death-stenched air. You are certainly one of mine.

Their deal had demanded she give him a tree.

He’d never said anything about a tree that was still alive.

XORN hadn’t put up nearly as much of a fuss as she’d expected. He’d plucked the rotted limbs from the soot-covered ground and been on his way. He paused when he spotted Hyanthia clinging to Michael’s side.

I’ll see you soon, my child, he said, and continued to leave a trail of ash in his wake as he dragged the blackened tree out of the forest.

Hyanthia, the demon who’d killed her family, clung to Michael’s side like a frightened child. Azrael wasn’t sure if it was for show, or if the demon really leaned on Michael for strength.

She’s been hiding among us, Queen Illia, the new ruler of Manor Saffron since Azrael’s departure, said with a tremor in her voice. She pointed a finger in accusation. That... thing... has been pretending to be an innocent girl. Just look at her!

Azrael was looking, and she knew that Hyanthia was anything but innocent. Yet, the demon’s tail didn’t whip around her calves, and instead was tucked between her legs like a dog that had been beaten. The golden triangle tattoo on her forehead singed her dark skin with cracked, leathery lines, as if its magic had been overused and now it retaliated against her.

So, your powers aren’t endless, Azrael observed.

Hyanthia’s brilliant stare, one of a Hallowed whose soul was touched by the Divine, bore through the soft motes of the forest to land on her. No, she agreed, as with everything in my life, it doesn’t compare to you. She rolled her shoulders back. But I won’t return to Mhakdar.

Isn’t that where demons belong? Azrael asked, the words coming out harsh and snide.

Hyanthia bared her teeth and Michael stepped between them, giving Azrael a scowl.

Michael’s eyes were something she could get lost in. She’d never considered him a friend, but things were different now that he was a hybrid. His mismatched eyes were a treasure no other male in the history of Terra could boast. His blue eye reflected righteousness, just as she’d always seen in him, but his green eye saw with clarity, and she knew it was the reason he sympathized with the demon. He saw something in Hyanthia worth saving, and Azrael wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

She has no place else to go, Michael protested. He broke from Hyanthia’s clutching fingers to approach Azrael. Crystal leaves broke under his boots. He grimaced, but didn’t look down. You have to understand, he persisted, she’s not really a demon. She bears the scars of her sins, but she doesn’t have to live in exile. Please, for me, award her this small mercy. Allow her to stay with me in Manor Saffron.

Azrael flared her wings and warmth snapped down her spine. After all she’s done, why does she deserve your kindness? What magic has she sheathed over your eyes?

He stood fast against her insults, and the old Michael would have fought back. Instead, he balled his fingers into fists and waited for her to continue. Patience. Strength. Qualities she could admire.

Queen Illia stepped forward when Azrael didn’t continue. You speak truth, Azrael. A demon belongs in Mhakdar.

He’ll kill me! Hyanthia cried.

Azrael would have thought it a ruse if she hadn’t heard the note of true panic in her words, how her body went stiff as if Hyanthia jolted with the urge to flee. Why? Azrael asked. Xorn made you what you are. He would have no reason to kill you.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe never. But he has plans for me, and I don’t intend to play a role in his games.

Reluctantly, Azrael had to agree.

Azrael chewed on her lip while she thought of what to do with the creature who’d caused her so much suffering, but now seemed lost and desperate. Azrael had once been driven by the need for vengeance, and had she come upon Hyanthia alone, she would have taken her life without hesitation. But to see her like this, with Michael standing as her protector, her soul urged her to take the higher path.

She met Michael’s gaze before offering her ordination. His mismatched eyes swirled with emotion, reflecting her own conflicts of the never-ending battle of what was right and what was wrong.

Redemption, Azrael said. She flared her wings and faced Hyanthia and Queen Illia. Hyanthia will serve Manor Saffron until her misdeeds have been redeemed.

Queen Illia blanched. Redemption? What redemption is there to be had for murder? What good works could wash away blood and death?

Hyanthia’s victims, who one of which was Queen Ceres, the only fragment of a mother Azrael ever could have had. The other victim her best friend who’d called her sister. Their lifeless faces flashed before Azrael’s eyes as they always did when she was reminded of their suffering.

Nothing, Azrael admitted. She forced herself to meet Hyanthia’s brilliant gaze. She couldn’t read her soul behind the wall of Light, but she imagined that if she could, she’d see hope. Meretta had seen something in Hyanthia that no one else had. She’d seen goodness and a desire for a better life. Hyanthia had always wanted a life of her own, a better future for herself. A goal Azrael had also strived to achieve, only to result in the deaths of those she’d loved. In some ways, they were more alike than she cared to admit. She’d do this, if only for Meretta’s memory.

Even when there is no hope for redemption, there can always be sacrifice.

CHAPTER TWO

Sacrifice

Hyanthia knew that Azrael never would have gone for it. She’d seen that spark of defiance in the Angel Queen’s eyes. It was the same one that flared with the weight of Hyanthia’s sins, a burden forever bound to Azrael’s heart. She’d wronged the angel in ways that should never be forgiven... but she needed this. She needed time to recover and to figure out how she was going to survive this cruel world.

She swallowed a whimper as Michael guided her out of the forest. The magic had cost her. She should have been lying in bed nursing her blistered forehead, but instead she’d performed one of the most powerful magics of all.

She’d conjured something deep from within Azrael and brought it to the surface of her heart. Hyanthia’s magic had thus far been persuasion and illusion. But this time, she needed to bend Azrael’s will. Challenging someone’s right of choice required more than just a trick of the eyes. This needed something deep and meaningful. The only person in the world who could ever see redemption when none had been deserved was her first victim, the Windborn named Meretta. She’d reminded Azrael of that soul and what she would have wanted. It was just enough to bend her will to Hyanthia’s desires.

She’d won, but not without a price to pay. The cracked, leathery scar of her tattoo stretched over damaged skin on her forehead. It burned with fresh fury. The Light had a mind of its own, and to go against one of their own was something it hadn’t wanted to do.

But Hyanthia didn’t command the Light. She used it to power a different force, one Xorn had gifted her when she’d drank the dark vial filled with evil and his own blood. She held a power she didn’t fully understand, one that saw inside someone’s soul and pinpointed their weaknesses and desires. It was a demon’s gift, without a doubt. Xorn’s specialty that was now part of her growing repertoire of skills. She’d shown Azrael how they were one and the same, that if she would condemn her, she’d have to condemn herself.

Salty, cold wetness slipped between her toes as they reached the edge of the angel island. Horses whinnied and Michael pulled one close enough for her to reach. She pressed her hand against the beast, careful not to graze it with her claws, as she contemplated gathering enough strength to mount it without passing out and squeezed her eyes shut.

What have you done? Michael hissed.

What was necessary, she replied without opening her eyes. She inhaled the musk of the animal and drew in a sliver of its strength to keep herself upright.

Michael offered her a moment of silent rebuke before he wrapped his fingers around her hips and lifted. Her world swayed as Michael shoved her onto the horse.

What’s wrong with her? Queen Illia snapped. Water sloshed as she’d jerked her horse around to face them. Hyanthia disapproved of Illia, both her treatment of the Windborn and of beasts. It’s the angel forest, isn’t it? she continued, sounding a bit proud. This is not a place for demons. Perhaps we should have stayed a bit longer and let the Light do what Azrael was too weak to do.

Tension buzzed in the air before Michael slipped onto the horse behind her. His arms wrapped around her as he took the reigns and moved them into the water. Don’t disrespect Azrael, he chided. She made the right choice. He clicked his tongue to encourage the horse into deeper waters.

Icy cold swelled all the way up her calves, but she didn’t dare move. Queen Illia glowered as they made their way to the far shore to return to Manor Saffron.

Michael’s warmth pressed into her back and she marveled that he would believe her worthy of redemption. She closed her eyes and rested into his embrace, swaying to the soft movements of the beast.

Michael was the only soul in the world who accepted her, believed in her, and she didn’t need magic to get him to see beyond her scales and sorrow. He saw a deep, lost part of her and she wanted to make him proud.

MICHAEL knew what Hyanthia had done. Had he still been a naive Windborn with two blue eyes that only saw righteousness, he would have struck her down just as he'd done to the hybrid child who had sought a deal with her demon so long ago. He'd been a fool then to judge a soul he couldn’t have understood. That was a mistake he'd never make again.

Azrael, wounded as she was from Hyanthia’s past sins, never would have permitted Hyanthia a home. Hyanthia would have been forced to return to Mhakdar and complete her transformation, which would have inevitably destroyed the careful balance she'd forged between the Light and the Dark. He couldn't imagine losing Hyanthia to such a fate.

As scarred by sin as she was, she'd never be accepted anywhere else without a miracle—or some magic. He couldn’t judge her courage to bend Azrael’s will. She’d done what she’d had to do.

Thick, black scales dug into his arms as Hyanthia shifted her weight and dismounted the horse. The plates pinched as he curled her shoulders towards him, shadowing her face in the curve of his chest. Her tail draped over his shoulder as if by instinct, keeping them balanced as he maintained a steady gait towards Manor Saffron’s open doors.

Queen Illia preceded them, not turning to spout further complaints or rage at the decision that Hyanthia would remain in Manor Saffron.

Hyanthia relaxed into his embrace, now that she was allowed to drop the mirage of an innocent Hallowed girl she’d once been. The ruse had been too taxing and the need of it too constant. When she'd finally lost her ability to hide what she was, a demon in the literal sense of the word, Queen Illia had immediately sought Azrael’s help. Michael knew, had Azrael been herself, Hyanthia would either be chained to Xorn’s leg, or dead in a blast of Light.

Azrael wasn't perfect. He'd never believed her to be wholly good, but he saw now how the Light was corrupting her. She exuded it and the balance had not been maintained. As a new hybrid, he was the only one who could see it, and he tasted the frustration that must have plagued Azrael for years when no one would listen to what she had to say.

We’re almost there, he promised Hyanthia. She turned closer into his chest and covered her face. We’re almost home.

CHAPTER THREE

Meretta’s Memory

Azrael stared into the brilliant haze long after Hyanthia had gone. Hyanthia’s tail had lifted a fraction higher and her clawed fingers carefully interwound with Michael’s as they’d made their way to the choppy waves.

The further Hyanthia retreated, the more confused Azrael felt. She’d been able to momentarily forgive Hyanthia’s heinous crimes, but now she struggled to remember why.

She held onto the warmth that was Meretta’s memory. It still swarmed through her, renewed and comforting. It was the first time she’d been able to think of Meretta in a positive light. Every time she’d been reminded of her best friend, she’d only seen her suffering and the final moments after her death. But now, she could envision her smile, how she would have been pleased with Azrael’s turn of heart. For so long, she’d been full of hopelessness and rage. It felt good to have something of warmth and virtue graze