Disclaimer: The Maiden of Autumn owns nothing.

Okay. OKAY. So I'm a sucker for all things supernatural, as well as all things kinda steampunk, (Airships... hgnnnhgn...yes...). I admit this. I found this little story on my laptop, hidden away in another locked folder- dear Jesus, I have GOT to stop password locking things because I always forget the password- and after trying out a few different passwords, I correctly guessed the one that unlocked it.

…I suck, okay?

Aaaaanyways, this was originally an original story. But, I kinda can't write original stories for some reason and this really sucked. So, I started taking it apart paragraph by paragraph, rewriting it and tweaking things to make it a DN fancfiction with the one rare threesome that I shall ship until I get people converted to MY side.

KiraxLxLight.

This will catch on. MARK MY WORDS, MY LOVELIES.

…There's only one other story on this site I've seen that makes use of this pairing, other than my own Seeing Double and Sophia's Flight. Speaking of which, I'm also working on a crossover fic based on Fable and- GodDAMN those video games… They influence me waaaay too fucking much.

Just don't expect hasty updates from this, okay? This was just something I was working on in the midst of the writer's block I've been having. Distraction and a change of pace. There's always something thrilling about starting a new story that gets the juices flowing.

…But yeah. Read and hopefully enjoy.

There was a great boom, and an explosion rocked the airship the Wammy. Mihael Keehl, or Mello as he preferred, who the human captaining the airship he was currently on, as well as being commander of the whole fleet of mechanical ships that the combined human and angel forces, cursed loudly and crudely. While everyone else stumbled around, trying to regain their balance, he held steady with a skill that spoke of years of practice.

"Motherfucking demon bastards! If things were going my way I'd blow every single fucking one of them back the deepest pit of hell where they crawled from!" Mello attempted to maneuver the failing airship away from the demon that was trying to bring it down with its firebombs, ignoring the chaos of the other human crewmembers aboard the ship.

Mail Jeevas, or Matt for short, who was Mello's ever-present partner-in-crime as well as just partner, looked up from the computer where he had been monitoring the ship's mechanical vitals.

His narrowed eyes were obscured by the orange goggles he always wore, but the way he worried the unlit cigarette between teeth-worried, reddened lips belied his sudden agitation. "Mells!" he called, leaning over the metal table, bracing himself as another blow rocked the ship, white wings flaring out as he rebalanced himself, leather-booted feet dancing lightly across the wooden floor as he fought to regain his footing. "We've got a problem!"

Mello's electric-blue eyes flitted over the red-headed angel as he fought against the strain of the wheel, attempting to keep the ship from leaning too far to the side and overturning in the air. The muscles in his arms were stretched taut, and the skin of his knuckles underneath padded leather gloves were white with strain as he gripped the wheel, pushing it to the right with all of his strength.

"What?" Mello snarled sharply, blonde slashes of eyebrows furrowed in strain as he fought the wheel.

Bared fingers flying across the keyboard, Matt shook his head in desperation as he looked up, eyes widening. The digital scan of the ship he had just brought up showed massive damage to the outside port hull. The demon's fireball had melted the metal encompassing the wooden frame inside, and the fires had sparked a fire inside, where one of the three major engines were located.

"The engine's gonna blow!" Matt called, eliciting another round of strained, snarled cursing from the blonde at the wheel.

Gritting his teeth, Mello gave the wheel another hard shove, resulting in a slight straightening of the ship. Seeing their Captain's struggle, a few of the other crewmembers rushed unsteadily to aide him, pushing or pulling against the wheel as well. Mello turned to send a glare Matt's way, a glare that was laced with well-disguised worry and a keen sense of desperation. "Then what the fuck are you waiting for?" Mello gritted out, his blue cap knocked askew as another blast rocked the ship, sending him stumbling. The wheel spun crazily before three crewmembers stopped it, grunting from exertion.

Righting himself, Mello pointed to an escape hatch, yelling at Mail as he ran back to the wheel. "Get the fuck out there and fix it!"

Standing to his feet, the redheaded angel nodded shortly, brooking no argument. Equals they may be on the ground, on the airship, Mello was the Captain and his orders were as good as law. Matt grabbed his tool kit- something he had near him at all times, for he was the Chief Mechanic on the Wammy- and hooked it to the leather belt slung around his skinny waist.

With no further hesitation, he strode to the hatch on the starboard side of the airship yanked the handle down with a swift, harsh jerk. The door, no longer secured, was flung open by the force of the high-altitude winds, banging harshly against the metal outside of the ship.

Checking to make sure that his repair kit was tightly secured on his belt, as was the trusty dagger gifted to him by Mello on the eve of their partnership ceremony, Matt looked up, the orange tint of his goggles distorting everything to a vaguely fiery color. The blood-red of the sun just setting over the horizon only served to make the effect more extreme, and a grim smile twisted Matt's lips as he stood at the hatch, red-tinted feathers of his wings due to the lighting rustling and hair fluttering as his slim body was buffeted by the harsh winds.

It seemed like the world was going up in flames.

…And with the presence of the demons and dragons, it might as well be.

Matt gave a breathy laugh at that thought before the grip his fingers had on the sides of the hatch loosened and he fell into the sky, laughing madly as a stray fireball just passed in front of his eyes in a blazing streak.

His arms came out to stabilize his fall, shaking from the force of the wind, and as soon as he deemed he had fallen far enough, he tucked in his wings, executed a roll, and then spread the gleaming, feathered appendages out, tilting his body so that the force of the wind and gravity pulled him underneath the belly of the metal-clad ship.

The wind tore at his clothes, screamed in his ears and tickled the thin skin of his wings in between his feather-slits. Right then, Matt had never felt more alive, even as the nagging worry about Mello who was on a failing ship pricked at the back of his mind.

Gliding smoothly underneath the ship, he came out on the port side and spread his wings, bringing up his knees in a pseudo-crouch and beating his powerful wings twice to bring himself to a vertical halt just a bit below the port propeller. His green eyes narrowed as they flitted over the side of the ship, where the damage was clearly displayed.

It was bad.

Really, really fucking bad.

A gigantic hole had been melted in the ship, larger in life than it had been on the digital analysis displayed on his computer screen. Smoke poured from the still searing-hot metal, and Matt could see the flicker of flames from the inside, where the engine was.

And if those flames happened to catch on an oil leak or something along those lines, the whole thing was gonna blow. All of it.

The Whammy was done for in this fight. Matt could, using magic and some rather impromptu repairs from emergency supplies located near each engine, patch the engine enough to allow Mello's beloved ship to make it back to Civit'Atem, their city, but for it to be battle-worthy and running smoothly once more, serious, complete repairs would need to be done.

Scrubbing a leather glove-clad hand across his face, Matt shook his head and his eyes tightened. Powerful wings beating at a rapid pace, Matt propelled himself towards the hole, shooting inside and executing a roll as he shot into the exposed engine room. A couple of oil-drenched, filthy crewmembers hailed him as he regained his footing, saluting smartly.

These were men that Matt knew and trusted, as he worked with on a daily basis. They respected him due to his knowledge of all things mechanical as well as his status and Chief Mechanic, and Matt knew that his barked, orders would be carried out immediately and with great efficiency as he ordered them to put out the fires, fix the engine the best they could and for fuck's sake watch his back as he attempted to patch up the hole at least somewhat.

As Matt unhooked his repair kit and slung it onto the ground, riffling through it for the tools he would need, a gritted, telepathic voice reached into his mind, giving it a not-so-gentle prod, causing Matt to wince lightly, though a small smile overtook his lips at the loving, (at least for Mello) words that accompanied the harsh probe.

Be careful, you fucking idiot, Mello's harsh voice came over their telepathic bond. There was a strain in his thought that was not entirely from his efforts to steady and right the ship. If you die, I'll motherfucking kill you all over again.

Laughing breathily, Matt stood to his feet, hammer and wrench clutched tightly in his hands as he rose to his feet.

God forbid that I die twice, sweetheart, Matt drawled back shortly, mockingly as he stepped outside the hole again, rising from the floor with a few beats of his wings, spiraling around to regard the gaping hole. With critical eyes he assessed it, gauging what would need to be done, and how much of a drain it would be on his energy.

Angels were capable of many things with their magic, able to bend and twist the shape of what they wanted to suit their whims and needs. However, to alter their world in such a way required the user's energy. The Ancient language was simply the conduit for change; energy, the life source of all living creatures was what was needed to power the change. And too much, using all of one's energy could result in fainting, or if the draw continued, death as the magic sucked out the last remaining dregs of life.

Matt was not the most powerful of angels, which was why he had always preferred mechanics, which was the repair, creation, and alteration of working things with nothing more than tools, hands, and pure hard work, to more ethereal means. However, Matt, as all angels and mythical beings, was still well versed in the Ancient language and magic. In circumstances, it did help him greatly, but he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to fix this on such short notice, without better tools and more materials other than the scant magic he was able to use.

Still, he wasn't Chief Mechanic just because his partner was the Captain of this airship and he himself was an angel. Gritting his teeth, Matt flew upwards, hovering near a jagged edge of metal. He snatched up the nuts and bolts that were hanging loosely from the torn, melted metal, the ones that were still intact, and shoved them into his vest pocket for later.

Then, he placed one hand on the edge of the metal. Clearing his mind, Matt summoned the energy he could feel flowing through him to the forefront of his mind, and whispered, "Insterno," allowing the ancient word to act as the shaping conduit of the energy, allowing it to make the metal glow and start to expand, under the direction of his mind. It did not make the metal grow, nor create metal from nothing. It simply forced the metal to spread out, thinning into a weak, yet covering layer. He did not force it out to bridge the whole gap. Instead, he allowed it to spread a few feet, then tucked his wings in for a brief second to drop about a meter, to a new place, and repeated the process.

The efforts were draining, and Matt could feel his strength ebbing as he forced the metal covering of the ship to spread, and repeated the process all around the circular gap until the jagged edges overlapped in a thing, jagged line.

Grinning tiredly, face drawn and pale from his efforts, the red-haired angel nonetheless brought his wrench up, along with his hammer, placing the wrench against metal. Then, using his strength, he brought the hammer down, using a few strong strikes to punch holes all up the line of overlapping metal. Then, he went back and secured the two folds in place with the previously gathered nuts and bolts, wrenching them securely into place.

Just as he was wrenching the last nut firmly into place, a screeching sound reached Matt's ears, and recognizing the familiar sound, Matt's head whipped up in dread.

Dragons.

Seeing the massive, scaled creatures winging their way towards the battlefield had a shock of fear flashing through Matt's spine, dread pooling in his gut. The creatures had a tendency to attack airships, rending the outer metal shell and tearing at the rudders and propellers.

And with the Whammy already in a delicate position…

Matt cursed and kicked off the side of the ship, dropping his hammer and wrench as he did so, for they were somewhat heavy and would only weigh him down. Speed was a necessity, and he beat his wings furiously, teeth gritted against the harsh wind as he streaked over the top of the ship, back to the starboard side. He was no longer there to monitor the computers, and Mello was preoccupied with controlling the ship and keeping it steady- he would not notice the incoming dragons on the horizons nor bother to check the warning the computer was surely giving off about the enemy.

Folding his wings in, he dipped into a steep dive and then flapped hard, diving into the escape hatch. He rolled on the ground, coughing once as he hit a metal table.

His ears were ringing from the blow, and yet, he forced what strength was left into his arms and pushed himself up, shaking his head to clear it. Crimson-red hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away as he slowly and shakily rose to his knees, emerald-green eyes flitting about the room, attempting to locate Mello.

...It was really no surprise, Matt thought as he hauled himself to a standing position, using the table that he had crashed into as leverage, leaning on it shakily, that Mello was still fighting the wheel, face contorted into a grimace of strain as he attempted to steady the Wammy.

Of course, his actions blinded him to what was happening outside of the ship, and before Matt had time to call to Mello, tell him to fucking look behind him for Christ's sake!- the airship came to a sudden halt in the air, as if frozen in place.

Mello, cursing and swearing, went stumbling as the wheel finally gave, no more air resistance to the rudders making it stiff. Righting himself, he whipped around, momentarily locking eyes with Matt, a flash of relief going through his eyes as he saw the angel back, safe. However, they quickly cleared of anything but shock as he turned, finally able to see the sight that had frozen Matt through the glass helm of the airship's control room.

It was a sight that caused a knot of dread to form in any angel or human's stomach, no matter how brave or fierce they thought themselves to be. The leader of the demon forces, their Commander was hovering just a few meters away from the helm of the ship, one hand outstretched and glowing with crackling blackness as blazing amber eyes remained locked on the ship, peering inside.

For a split second, the demon's eyes locked with Mello's, freezing the normally valiant Captain, before they moved on, roving over the ship.

It dawned suddenly on Matt, who was watching the powerful demon however, caramel-colored spikes of hair fluttering in the wind, blood-red wings with demonic carvings etched in black to the leathery surface beating almost lazily and amber eyes blazing, that the creature was the one holding them suspended in air. The ship was completely at the Commander's mercy, for no one dared engage him in attempts to fight his control.

A small smirk tugged at the demon's lips as Matt remained frozen. A clawed hand raised, and a ball of blazing light gathered in the armor-clad hand, growing larger as more and more energy was gathered.

Recognizing the threat, a sharp spike of fear pooled in Matt's gut.

This was not fucking good.

He leaped into action, crouching and then propelling himself forwards with a controlled beat of his powerful wings. A brief flash of guilt speared Matt as he thought of the other humans that would be left behind, but it passed quickly and burdened him for no more than a moment. His loyalty was to Mello, and no other. He was the single most important thing, more so than any other human friend or even the beloved airship itself.

He was top priority, and the imminent threat gathering in the demon's hand, that ball of heat and fire that would deal the last blow to the already struggling airship made Matt's actions swift and instinctive.

He crashed into Mello, clasping the human around the waist tightly, ignoring the yelp of indignacy, and quickly rose to his feet, tugging Mello up with him. A flash of light caught his eye, and right before he raised a booted foot and brought it down, opening the escape hatch that opened into deep blue sky below, he saw the demon Commander raise his arm, eyes wide and fangs showing in a triumphant sneer.

Matt, with a cursing Mello tightly in tow, stepped through the hatch right as the ball of fire was lobbed at the suspended airship. The two fell, feeling the cold air pull at their clothing and hair, watching as the ball of fire hit the Wammy square in the hull. Black energy crackled along the tongues of flame, helping it spread faster and burn unnaturally hot and unsmotherable.

Before they had a chance to see the true extent of the damage, Matt shook himself from his stupor and reached out, grabbing Mello's upper arms, snapping out his wings as he did so. With a harsh jerk, air pressed against the bottom of Matt's wings, forcing them to an almost-halt. They drifted slowly in the cool air, skin around emerald-green eyes clenching as Matt fought and struggled to keep them both supported.

Before Mello could say anything, rail and curse at their situation, for being forced to abandon his ship, a loud boom and many crackles of splitting metal, popping bolts and burning fire sounded from above, followed by a loud screech. Both men inclined their head to see the Wammy split into two, heated chunks and pieces of wood, metal, and other paraphernalia from the burning wreck of an airship come falling down.

"Fuck!" Mello cursed, realizing the danger they were in. They could easily be hit by something, and to be injured this high up… "Matt!" Mello barked, craning his head, "Get us the fuck out of-"

He was cut off as Matt dodged sharply to the right, a piece of flying metal that Mello vaguely recognized as a pipe from one of the three engines hurtled past them, grazing the side of Mello's face, though at the moment, he barely noticed. Hissing, Matt readjusted his grip on Mello and folded his wings close into his body, going into a steep dive. The wind screamed in their ears, forcing burning tears from Mello's eyes and stinging across his exposed skin as they spiraled towards the ground.

It was only when they were but meters from the earth that Matt finally opened his wings a bit, gradually slowing them down, bringing them gently closer to the ground until they alighted with a soft thump. Looking around, Matt could see that they were at the bottom of a small knoll, their view of the horizon obscured by the gentle rise of a hill in front of them.

Shaking Matt's hands off, Mello stormed away, up the hill, and Matt could catch a few passing worried thoughts about the state of the Wammy, which was no longer in the air.

The red-haired angel let Mello go, sensing that he needed a few moments alone. The Wammy had been specially designed by Mello, (with just a little help from Matt) the construction of the airship supervised by the human, and it was his pride and joy. To have it brought down in such a way was a huge blow, and deep down, Matt knew that it would be some time before the airship could be fully fixed and battle-worthy once more, if ever. Matt feared that the Wammy was unsalvageable, lost forever.

Sighing, he scrubbed a gloved hand across his face, slipping his goggles off, as they were smeared with sweat and smoke residue, making his vision blurry. Immediately, the orange color of the world disappeared, making Matt blink as everything returned to its normal color.

His emerald-green eyes raised to the sky, scanning it as he absentmindedly cleaned his goggles off. However, a sudden harsh thump from behind him had Matt whirling around, goggles dropping to the ground as he instinctively reached for the dagger at his side. At the sight of an angel crumpled on the grass, though, Matt was rushing to their side, dropping to one knee.

The angel's gleaming silver armor identified them as male, the runes of the Magia'Lingua spelling out wards of magic and physical protection inscribed into the armor.

"Hey!" Matt exclaimed, reaching out to roll the angel over with great care. The action resulted in the revealing of white curls and a delicate, youthful face. Five slash marks, like those from claws, were carved onto the angle's chest. They appeared to have ripped through the gleaming armor with terrifying ease. The edges of the torn armor were wilted black and curled in on itself around the slash marks, and Matt knew it then to be from dark energy.

He was just about to reach out and attempt to take a better look at the wounds when the angel jolted, grey eyes snapping open. A shudder wracked the angel's small body and a series of blood-laced, wet-sounding coughs overtook him as he tried to rise to a sitting position.

Matt suddenly recognized the angel's face- it was Near, a first-class medic, though he was not a shabby fighter by any means. He was deadly with any type of small blade that made its way into his capable hands.

"Near! Shit! What happened?!" Matt swore as he placed a gloved hand onto Near's shoulder, forcing him down onto the ground once more. Light-laced blood, tainted with black darkness was seeping from the jagged slash marks on the angel's torso, and Matt knew it would take his last reserves of energy to purge the wound of foulness.

As Near recovered himself somewhat, catching his breath, Matt braced himself and placed a hand over the slash marks. Under orange-tinted goggles, emerald eyes closed in concentration as he willed his last bit of reserve energy to his hands, infusing it with the power of light each and every angel was born with and was able to easily wield.

Then, he directed it into Near's wounds, purifying them of the infecting darkness and closing the first layer of skin. Had he been in possession of more energy, he would have healed more, but that was all he could manage without passing out.

Near coughed once more, clotted blood staining his lips. Shaking his head, he wiped his lips almost contemptuously, flicking away the blood and turning his head to the side, spitting to rid himself of the iron-tasting liquid. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, as Matt pulled back, wiping his bloodied hand on the grass. The injured angel gave Matt a short nod of thanks before Charcoal-grey eyes rose to the sky, highlighted in blood-red from the just-setting sun.

They scanned the area for but a moment before they locked on something, and Near emotionlessly raised and arm and pointed to the direction he was gazing at, gesturing towards something. Coral-pink lips opened, and Near uttered one word that made the small hairs on the back of Matt's nape to rise and his angelic blood run ice-cold.

"Kira."

Lifting his head slowly, Matt turned his head up, emerald eyes widening in shock as they locked onto the sight that sent chills of terror run down his spine.

He looked much like the Commander, Kira did. He bore the same features, same build of body and color of hair-spikes, but it was there that the similarities ended. Crimson eyes, blazing with inner demonic fire and bloodlust seemed to dance in delight as one after another angel fell under his black sword. Blood-red, tattered wings kept him aloft in the air, crimson sunset seeming to highlight the intricate contours of his black armor.

Matt's eyes locked onto the black blade that Kira carried, the same gleaming black that Matt imagined the color of death to be. Even from where he stood, he could see blood-red energy crackling along the length of the blade, formed into the shape of a dragon wing- sharp and smooth at the top, but serrated cruelly near the hilt of the blade, with a tip that was able to pierce through even the strongest, finest armor.

Matt knew, from his lessons and own research on demons, that they all carried a special weapon, made by themselves, as custom dictated. They spent years training themselves with it, so that it would become no more than an extension of their arm. They were immortal, as were angels, so years were of no importance to them. It was widely known that demons preferred war to other, more enlightening things such as reading, writing, building cities, and helping others. Of course, no one really knew what demons did in their spare time, as no one was willing to get close to them, much less even form a partnership with them.

All demons were dangerous, lethal creatures, but Kira was said to be the worst. Parents told their children stories about the demon, who was the General of the demon forces, in order to scare their children into better behavior. Tales of his lethality and cruelty were whispered about in corners of bars and taverns, and on the battlefield, to stand up to him meant instant death. The caramel-haired demon Commander was the leader of the enemy forces, yes, but his twin brother, Kira, he was a force unto himself.

He was brilliant, ordering raids that were planned flawlessly, and devising new battle strategies. He was lethal- if he wanted an enemy dead, they had only a few seconds to live. And it was rumored that he was merciless. The sight of the demon Commander meant that there was no chance of winning a battle, because where the Commander went, Kira went. And wherever Kira, Killer, went, death and destruction followed.

Matt, to no surprise, heard a telepathically-communicated order to fall back to the city, where the demons could not enter. There were spells warding off darkness- based creatures, and no matter how strong the demon Commander, General Kira, or any of the other demons were, they were darkness based. The city would not allow a demon or dragon, who fought with the demons, to enter unless specified. And unless the impossibility of capturing a demon happened, there was no way a demon was sneaking through the defenses.

Matt snapped out of his musings as he heard a groan and felt a flash of pain from Mello transfer itself to him through their bond. Turning away from Near, Matt saw Mello on his knees and rushed over to him, only pausing to retrieve his orange-lensed goggles as he did so. The angel knelt as soon as he was but a foot from Mello, gently reaching out to place a hand on Mello's shoulder. Matt took a second to rake emerald-green eyes briefly over the blonde's from, noting his blue uniform bore new rips and some scorch marks, but other than that, there appeared to be no damage to the man himself.

"Mello!" Matt exclaimed, watching as the blonde's crystal-blue eyes fluttered open, hazy and muddled, but still so very much alive and okay. "Thank fuck… I thought something was seriously wrong. The Commanders issued an order to fall back to the city!"

Mello groaned in a mixture of anger, pain, and despair. The only time that a retreat was called was if there was no hope of driving off the demons in that certain battle, and as he looked up, that was exactly what he saw- no hope for the angels' forces today. Blue eyes trailed the path of the bastard demon General as he cavorted about in the skies, executing a deadly and bloody dance with each angel that attempted to put an end to him.

It was not long before he tore his eyes away from the sight, however, unwilling to watch the slaughter of any more angels this day. He couldn't handle it, not after the utter destruction of his beloved airship. Silently, he held out his hand for Matt to take, and the red-haired angel helped to tug Mello to his feet, turning him around to fully face him for the first time since the explosion. As preoccupied as Matt had been with an injured Near, he had not truly taken in the extent of Mello's injuries caused by their descent from the exploding airship.

A flash of bright red caught Matt's eye, and horrified, Matt leant in closer to get a better look at what had previously been hidden from him. "Mello," Matt breathed, gently grasping the blonde's chin and turning it to the side, to better see the side of his face. Patches of skin were burnt off, no doubt by a hot piece of debris flying, or the searing hotness of the flames that had overtaken and consumed the ship. "The side of your face…"

Adrenalin and the overwhelming thoughts of the Wammy's destruction no doubt drew Mello's attention away from the pain that should have been unbearable.

"I know, you fucking idiot," Mello snarled, slapping Matt's hand away. Blue eyes flashed in mixed anger and despair, and Matt could see the way his fingers clenched, as if he were preventing himself from reaching up to examine his face himself. "Don't force me to think about it- just get me back so that I can get patched up and start working on another airship."

Matt blinked once, taken aback, before his eyes hardened and he let out a humorless chuckle. Mello was, as always, undeniably and endearingly Mello.

Wrapping his left arm around the human's slim waist and hoisting Mello's right one over his shoulder, Matt glanced at Mello briefly before murmuring, right before he spread his gleaming white wings and alit into the sky, "We'll shoot the fuckers out of the sky this time. Be damned near impenetrable."

"Fuck yes it will," Mello growled, allowing the cool air rushing against his body to soothe the fiery burning of the seared skin of his face. The solid warmth of Matt's arm wrapped around him, the feel of a firm shoulder under his hand and a firm body pressed against his side lent a steadiness to him and helped him to forget about the searing pain overtaking the side of his face.

Next time.

Next time, it would not be his airship going down.

It would be the demons that plagued this earth.

So. I was awesome and made up a language... not really. Well, somewhat. My original language that also is going to be used in a few future fics is going to be making a small debut in this one. But there's two languages here: the Magia'Lingua and the Niccha'Vey. The Magia'Lingua is based off of Latin, (thanks, Google Translate!) and is the language the angels use to converse and work magic in. The Niccha'Vey, which has varying translations depending on who's referring to the language, is my very own original language and shall be featured in future chapters. I shall include translations in each chapter at the bottom.

Translations

Magia'Lingua

Civit'Atem = White City

Insterno = Cover (to fix/repair)