A powerful angel. A beacon of light. He whose blade shatters the night. Hero of a myriad battles. The most loyal of all His soldiers.
So many things they called me. Even after my defeat, for some reason, they believed in me.
It seemed at first like any other battle in our endless war for the soul of mankind.
We did not worry about the enemy’s champion standing head and shoulders above the rest of the demonic legion. That is, until she tore through our ranks like we were untrained novices.
I faced off against her directly. Who else could make the attempt? But even I was no match for the Greater Demon.
Her curved blade shattered my holy sword, and with her boot on my neck, I understood fear for the first time in my immortal existence.
She broke me.
For most angels at my side, this was not their first time dying, but I had never been slain before. To my shame, I saw shock in all their eyes when I coalesced back from the Light alongside the rest of them.
That we had all been sent back to heaven—even me—was frightening.
The next battle, I knew to not underestimate her. I prepared myself for glorious battle, and I struck with all my heavenly force. I weaved through her blows with hard-earned skill.
I fared better. But not by much. She took her time slicing my form to pieces, tasting my pain.
The next time I saw her, I launched a surprise attack with a team of the most skilled warriors I knew.
She saved me for last. Her eyes told me how she relished the fear painted on my face as she held me aloft by my throat.
Then she ripped me apart with her teeth.
She was not present in every battle, but every time she appeared, our forces were broken.
The next time we met, fear made my sword arm hesitate. I lost before our fight even began.
She broke my sword, and then she gripped me in her claws and made me watch the slaughter.
Then…then…she did not even deign to finish me. With teeth that punctured armor, she left a bleeding wound on my arm.
Light oozed from the bite and ran down my arm as she retreated, leaving me on that desolate battlefield, full of death.
When I returned, the others thought I’d won. After all, I hadn’t died, so I must have, at last, scored a victory against the Greater Demon.
To my great shame, I allowed them to believe the lie.
In my private quarters, at least, I could be alone with my feelings of guilt.
My wounds always healed quickly, and my bite wound was blessedly closed by the time I disrobed.
The scar remained as a reminder of the death she refused me. Worse yet, it was a reminder of the way I let fear of her defeat me even before she struck her first blow.
“Fear of Her is not cowardice, angel. It is only wisdom.”
I whirled, finding a lithe demoness with a taunting grin lounging on my bed. One of her minions, no doubt. But how—?
“Oh, I’m not physically here, dummy! I’m just haunting you a little from within your mind, is all.”
A temptress of some kind, then. Here to salt the wound and sabotage me with doubt. Or, hypothetically, to leverage my despair to recruit me to the enemy, but surely no demon would be foolish enough to attempt that on an angel of my stature.
“Oh, surely not!”
She giggled and vanished. I was alone with my thoughts again.
I vowed to redouble my efforts. Continue my training. Regain my certainty. I would not let some demonic minion undermine me.
I became a constant fixture in the training grounds when not deployed.
With renewed ferocity, I practiced the arts of battle. I found new ways to surpass my old limitations.
The next time I met her on the field, I was eager to prove myself to her.
She beat me again. Shamed me again. Spared me again.
“You are nothing to Her.”
The Temptress was back to heckle me on the lonely flight home.
“The tiny ant trains to defeat the boot. How pathetic!”
I refused to see myself as an ant. I refused to let Her see me as one. I needed to be better.
“Ahh, is that how it is?”
Is what—?
“You wish to be worthy of Her. You need to prove yourself not beneath Her notice. You crave Her regard.”
No. I craved victory. Though it was an embarrassment that She saw me as not even worth killing anymore. I rubbed the bite mark ruefully.
“I can help.”
I did not want to accept the help of a demon, but it turned out that she put the rest of my training partners to shame.
A Lesser Demon like her should have been beneath me, but she matched me strike for strike. No, she was faster, even more precise.
My techniques perfected.
As I grew to match her, she always stayed one step ahead of me. Always a little better. A little more perfect.
“Well done today, angel.”
Somehow, at some point, we lost the taste for needling each other.
She earned my respect and—I must confess—my envy.
“Almost there.”
I needed no friends or companions. They were all as far beneath me as I was beneath Her.
The demon lurking in my mind was the only one who seemed to understand my obsession with Her.
Whenever my resolve wavered, she traced the scar on my arm to remind me where I stood.
When at last I matched my Temptress in our duels, I knew I was ready.
“Seek Her out.”
Yes. There was no one else worthy of fighting me. With a contemptuous swipe of my sword I could defeat anyone, angel or demon.
The only one worth my time was Her.
I gave Her the greatest fight of my life. The excitement shining in Her eyes at how I had grown to surpass myself made all my devotion worth it.
I was no ant. I was worthy.
Yet if She couldn’t still crush me utterly, She wouldn’t have been worth such devotion.
She was, of course, worthy of all my devotion and more.
As she looked down at me—lying in the dirt—I smiled, knowing that for the moment I had all Her attention.
In a voice like razorblades wrapped in silk, She spoke to me for the first time.
“My, what have you made yourself into? You are hardly an angel at all now.”
“You can thank your little Temptress for that. She helped me perfect myself.” Why did it please me to give Her minion such credit?
The Greater Demon laughed—a sound that could shatter lesser minds.
“I sent no Temptress, little pet.”
Her laughter was mirrored by the beautiful cackle of Her servant, my Temptress, kneeling before her. “I told you I’m just in your head, dummy!”
Perhaps I should have been more disturbed by the revelation.
Yet it made sense. This demonic servant was always just myself, perfected in every way. In fighting prowess, in physical beauty, in who she served: she was who I was destined to become. Worthy.
I rose to a kneel.
In a fiery embrace, She welcomed my worship and remade me.