Everything burns. Everest can taste copper in her mouth as she stands behind you, a hand placed on your back as a white feathered wing strains in front of you, stained golden with her own ichor as she holds you close to her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to do this. She knew just as well as the gods above her, and the laws of the magic flowing through her veins. Guardian angels weren’t supposed to reveal themselves, to interfere so directly with the lives of a lower realm. But it wasn’t your time yet, and there were far too many spears for her to simply influence the wind and save you indirectly. The king was cruel, you were innocent. She knew you were. She was there, with you, the whole time, she knew you were innocent. The simple fact that your own blood was mixed with ichor, that you influenced the world around you didn’t mean you were cursed. The opposite, in fact. You were simply unable to control your blessings.

Still, she could feel the laws of the gods punishing her for her hubris, for her rash thinking. Her skin burns, and she doesn’t need to look to tell that her other wing’s flight feathers are falling to the ground. Her eyes burn with fury as she drops her wing from blocking her view, looking at the king’s guards with an almost feral anger as she pulls her hand from your back and staggers forward through the pain. Nerves solidify just to burn harsher through her body as she reaches into her own wing, dragging a spear coated in gold oxidizing into blackened tar through and into her hands to be used against them. Her ears ring for the first time since she was first summoned to protect your infant soul, the blessings of numb senses stripped from her as she stumbles forward through the pain, letting out a scream of pain and anger. The people scream demon, yet she can’t truly hear them through her sole purpose- protecting you.

“You will not touch them!”