Imperfect Cadence

i. execute

i can resist everything but temptation.

She is born a golden child. She is the daughter of the heavens, sunshine in a human form— she is an angel.

Golden hair and the kindest brown eyes, she has a face rounded with kindness and wings made of gold. Her wings are her pride; they let her soar higher and see farther than a mortal child of the heavens. She is an angel.

She is proud, and has reason to be. She is beautiful, strong and powerful— she has it all.

She smiles as the younglings play among the clouds. They look up and see her, and exclaim with happiness.

"Alice, Alice! Come play with us!"

Their voices, so light and carefree cause pain to her now. She grits her teeth as laughter ghosts through her mind, angelic voices ringing in her head in a mocking song.

"Alice, Alice..."

The haunting melody reminds her of her past. She hisses and holds her head in her hands, her once-golden hair shades of white and grey.

"Go away," she whispers to the memories. She doesn't want to remember what she has lost. The keep singing, reminding, in the form of whispers in her mind. "Leave me alone!"

Red smoke emits from her fingertips with her anger, and she recoils from her own creation. She is scared of her power, and she longs for the life she has lost.

Her name was Alice. Years ago, she was an angel.

Her downfall begins in the clouds.

Alice looks down from the sky. She wishes to escape the realm of light, travel beyond to where no angel has been. Her wings will take her there, for she has faith in them, her wings, for they are her pride.

And invisible barrier seals the soldiers of the light away from the Earth. The Earth is a dangerous place, their leader Rafaela warns. She does not say it, but the implication is there.

Stay out.

She nods at the words, but Alice cannot help where her eyes wonder. They look down, towards green land and blue sea, places she has never been. Her comrades nod at Rafaela's words, and so does she. Who would wish to leave a world of happiness?

I would, she thinks. She wants to feel the danger, the rush of feelings called excitement and fear. She doesn't want to be the spectator, she wants to play the game.

The angels exist to heal, and Alice does not disregard her duty. She heals those in need, though an angel's touch cannot reach them all. She must make sacrifices, heal one over another, for every healing is a life saved.

Humans are only mortal, mere beings, but Alice would rather be human than angel. She has lived for millennia, and will never pass on until she makes the choice.

She is scared to pass on. She thinks Rafaela is the same, for Rafaela has lived longer than any angel still alive. Most of her kind chose to pass on after a hundred years, for a life of healing can tedious. Passing on is never goodbye, but a rebirth.

She knows she should pass on soon, but she is a coward and will never willingly put herself to rest. Humans have it easy, she thinks, for they die when their body commands it. She would rather fear the unknown than fear the known.

She unfurls her wings, her great, great, wings— the ones made of gold and feather. She smiles at the feeling and stretches them to their full glory. They stretch out and form their massive wingspan, the golden feathers catching the light.

She poised at the edge of the cloud, ready to jump, when a voice catches her.

"Already?"

She turns, tucking her wings in slightly. It's Rafaela, staff in hand and usually stern look replaced with a look of slightest amusement.

"Yes," Alice replies with cautious smile. She knows Rafaela is talking about her morning flights. She does not wish to anger the Wings of Holiness, but she does her best to be honest.

"Safe flight, Wings of Swiftness," Rafaela nods, flapping her wings slightly to hover off the cloud. "I must join you one of your flights on day."

"Thank you," Alice replies. "I will hold you to your offer."

Her leader smiles thinly, before turning away. Alice turns back towards the horizon, the sun on her wings and eyes towards the Earth.

She breathes in.

Her wings flap and she dives off the cloud, her wings capping in the air to slow her descent. She cannot go lower than the cloud line, but that is enough to glimpse the Earth's beauty.

It calls her with its oceans and landforms, and she reaches out a hand in yearning towards it. Beautiful, she thinks. So beautiful.

Her wings beat harder, pushing her further towards the endless horizon. She laughs, but her voice is carried by the wind, the sound echoing into the sky.

She is too high up, so she lets herself fall before her wings catch her as they always do. Alice laughs, enjoying the rush of fear and adrenaline.

She flies in loops, enjoying the feeling her hair makes as it whips behind her in the wind. She is not called the Wings of Swiftness for nothing, as she is faster than most in the realm of the sky.

The sun is beginning to burn her back through her linen clothes, so she turns back, speeding through the vapour of the rainclouds at the speed of light. The wind tears against her eyes, causing them to burn so she closes them, letting her wings guide her through the sky.

She arrives, landing on the cloud with a gentle tap. Her hair is tousled, but that is the way it always is in the mornings.

Wherever she goes, the scent of wind follows her.

It is after two weeks that Alice tries to break the barrier.

Her thirst for normality grows, and she wishes for nothing but to escape the land of light for one of darkness. Even in the sky, she is not truly free because she can never land.

On her morning flight, she flies far away from Heaven to begin her secret deeds.

She flies up, then lets herself drift down, until her bare feet touch an invisible ground. The barrier stings slightly, but she ignores the pain.

She raises a fist, and slams it into the air. Her hand sails through the air, before hitting an invisible wall. She hits, harder, and harder, but it does not break.

Red oozes from her knuckles and stains the barrier, and she can see the magic within it. The power is gold, and made of raw healing energy. The barrier is made by Rafaela.

Angered, she slams her hands against the wall and screams until her voice is hoarse. "Let me out," she whispers to the wall. "Let me out!"

Her rounded nails dig into the smooth surface and make their mark, denting the barrier ever so slightly. She smirks. Victory.

But victory is bittersweet as it only lasts a moment. She can dent the barrier no more, and her pale hands are reddened with blush blood and the liquid itself. She stands up, and her wings beat slowly to bring her back into the air.

She flies back slowly, she's already late, and so she takes her time. A quick healing spell removes the blush from her skin, but not the blood from her hands. She rubs the red off, guilty.

Rafaela scolds her for being late to duty, but all punishment is lifted when Alice hangs her head low and feigns unknowing.

Every day, she returns to her self-made crime scene and tries to break the barrier.

She will never surrender.

"A disturbance has been detected on the South East point of the barrier."

The meeting called during duty startles all but the guilty. Alice keeps her face still and unmoving, free of emotion.

"The barrier, of course, has been mended," Rafaela says. Alice clenches her fists begins her back and bites her tongue. Her work undone in a second. She swallows back her anger and the metallic taste of blood and keeps her face emotionless.

"But we have been informed that the interference has been caused from the inside," Rafaela continues. "An angel has committed treason."

Hushed whispers break out, and Alice pretends to look concerned. The wolf must remain hidden among the sheep, she thinks to herself.

Even Argus, Rafaela's lover, looks disturbed. He narrows his eyes and scans the crowd, looking for a suspect.

But something tells Alice that she should not fear this man.

For within his eyes, are the same yearning that are in her own. A want to escape, to disengage is within his eyes.

He looks at her, and Alice silently confirms her suspicions.

At night, she catches a glimpse of light from the outside.

She scrambles out of her bed and unfurls her wings sharply, so that they cut two slits at the back of her shirt. The shirt she wore was not suitable for flying, but it would have to do.

Alice recognises the figure before she admits it to herself. She pushes her window open and slips out, hanging onto the edge with her hand as her wings unfurl.

She lets them catch her, and she is soaring into the night sky, her eyes downward— tracking, following.

She follows Argus as he flies underneath her, careful to keep her wingbeats slow and silent in the crisp night air. She hovers, letting him take the lead beneath her, and silently follows.

Argus flies northward, though she cannot tell why. She keeps her distance and flies. The night is silent of speech as always, though she knows the humans will still be up with their artificial lights.

He stops, and Alice slows her wingbeats to a hover. She floats behind a cloud, hoping it's opaque enough to hide her.

Argus pulls out a sword from under his white cloak, his wings tucking behind him as he stands on the barrier.

Her eyes widen. The sword is green, and glows with an unearthly power. The Vorpal Blade, she realises in horror. Argus, what are you up to?

She watches as he admires the blade. The green glow illuminates his face, his eyes lit with viridian from the sword. He grips it tightly, and plunges the blade into the barrier.

Her gasp is one of shock and delight, for the barrier breaks under his blade, and shatters like glass. The energy in the blade turns the barrier visible, and she can see Rafaela's golden power crumble and break.

He pulls the blade out, and looks around, and Alice realises her mistake. In her eagerness to see the barrier broken, she has drifted away from the cloud.

"Alice," he acknowledges. "I must commend you on your efforts in the South East of the barrier."

She flies out and lands on the barrier, a few feet in front of him. The magic stings her feet, but she is long used to the pain. "You knew."

He laughs, a sinister and dark sound that is nothing like the golden smile of his partner. "Rafaela suspected. She tells me everything."

Shock and fear course through her. She knew all along. Rafaela knows everything, she thinks bitterly. Her secret was never safe.

"You didn't break the barrier for me, I assume," Alice says, masking her shock with an emotionless mask. They are both traitors here, and emotion will do them no good.

"No," he agrees. "But you understand why I did it, don't you?"

"I am not like you," she hissed. "I don't betray those that trust me."

"Then why are you here?"

She falls silent.

Instead, she watches the crack in the barrier. The air beyond it seems clearer, crisper- she yearns for the world beyond it. She's so close. So close.

"I need to leave," she says, a desperation coating her words. She can resist everything but temptation. "I cannot stay here any longer."

"Sick of all the light?"

She nods.

"Go on," he tempts, his voice low and full of persuasion. Like tempting a pet with a treat. "The world is all yours, Alice."

She creeps closer, but hesitates on the ridge of the hole. She's a coward, she can't leave- can she?

I have been a coward my whole life, she thinks to herself. It's time I be brave.

She stands precariously close. One inch closer will send her beyond her homeland.

As she steps, she is caught by Argus, and she gasps, as her body hangs over the opening. Her feet scramble for a foothold, but meet nothing but air. Argus' arm holds her wings, dangling her above the edge.

She cries out, the skin holding her wings to her back burning from supporting her weight. She sees the sword from the corner of her eye. She tenses in his grip.

"All I need now is to kill Rafaela," he whispers in her ear. Her blood runs cold.

With a quick movement, he take the sword and drags it up.

She falls.

She screams, the sound of an angel dying as she falls through the air. She wills her wings to move, but they don't catch her fall like they've done so many times before.

Then, pain.

The realisation sends her knees buckling as she plummets through the air.

Her wings. He cut her wings off.

She cries in anguish over the loss of the one thing that has defined her whole life. She feels the wind sting the wound on her back, and whimpers in pain.

"Rafaela!" she screams, begging for her sister to catch her fall. Argus' words haunt her mind.

All I need now is to kill Rafaela.

Pain shudders through her body, and Alice feels her mind slipping through her fingers.

The darkness takes over just before she hits the ground.

She reawakens to the cold.

Her skin is cold and grey as she stares at her arms. She looks around her— is she back on the clouds? The world around her is white.

She looks up. Long, tall trees are around her, their leaves spiky and needle-like. She looks at the scratches on her arms and legs and puts the two together.

And then, she looks at her back.

Her white cloak is stained with blood. She can feel the pain just by looking at it, the two stubs that had once been beautiful gold wings. She moans in anguish, her sadness too great to put into words.

She sits in the cold, white cloud on the ground. She frowns. She is not in the sky, why is there a cloud on the ground?

She looks up.

Small tiny white dots fall on from the sky. Snow, she realises. She's seen it fall from the clouds but never seen it land.

She turns around, and realises the white snow is stained red. Alice grimaces, and pulls the taters of her cloak around her frail limbs, to hide her wounds and to keep her warm.

The temperature does little to stop the burning in her back, and the stubs on her arms and legs. Her mind is elsewhere, as she rocks back and forth, a small figure in the sea of white.

She should never have left. By now, Rafaela was probably dead. She lets out an anguished cry of regret, as her mouth cannot form the words to speak.

Ugly tears roll down her face as she begs to the sky to take her back. "I'm sorry," she says between gulps of air, her shoulder shuddering. "I'm sorry!"

She's been so selfish. She let her selfish, selfish thoughts blind her. By now, Argus has probably slain Rafaela.

"I'm sorry, Wings of Holiness," she murmured mid-sob. She didn't dare say her name. She didn't deserve to speak the name of such a kind individual.

"You tried to keep me safe," she continues, her shoulders shuddering as she spoke to the dead. "All this time," she cries, as her voice cracked into a sob.

She awoke in a fire-lit room.

She frowns. She is no longer in the forest of snow. She pushes herself up, as she has slept on her front to prevent the wounds from her back reopening.

She looks around. It's a log cabin. There is fire in stone pit on the ground, its light beckoning to her. She moves towards the warmth, the temptation too great to resist.

Alice reaches a hand out to the fire-

"Ah. You're up."

She quickly pulls away her hand, a deer caught in the headlights. "I- sorry," she whispers, her voice hoarse and cracked.

It's an old human woman who looks back at her. "Go ahead," she smiles at Alice. The warmth in her smile warms the angel more than the fire.

They sit opposite each other, the fire in between them. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I found you," she replies simply. "You were injured, and I help the injured."

A human healer, Alice muses. They were uncommon. She feels the dull throb in her back still— the pain not as great, but still there. She looks up sharply at the woman, she most know about-

"I know," the woman says softly. "I will not ask, and I will not tell."

Silence is a secret's best friend, and Alice nods, the loss of her wings and her identity a secret. "Thank you," she manages to mutter.

"They will heal," the woman continues. "Your kind seems to heal quicker than us. Already, the skin is healing."

The angel nods in response. She offers no response, and the woman stands, leaning on the wall for supper and hobbles towards the kitchen.

She returns with a bowl of soup, but Alice barely acknowledges her, accepting the soup with a nod and muttered thanks. The soup is warm and hearty, and lights her body with an internal fire.

The next few days, she barely moves, and all she does is eat and sleep. She does not think of the future. She thinks only of the past.

Every night, she mutters the same word. Her prayers are for one person. "Rafaela," she whispers aloud into the night. Please forgive me.

She knows the woman watches her prayers, but is glad she says nothing of them.

In her depressed mindset, a voice creeps its way into her mind. Selfish, self-centred monster, it hisses, and she ignores it as she tries to sleep.

Each day, her second will grows stronger. She's not worried. She can't be scared of herself.

Worthless. You aren't an angel. You're a demon.

She whimpers, the guilt that she had hidden deep inside her resurfacing with the thought. It was all my fault, she thinks. All mine.

No, it hisses to her, its voice seductive and persuasive. Demons blame others for their wrongs.

She shifts in her sleep, pulling the blanket higher to cover her face, as if shelter will silence an internal voice.

She falls asleep, ignoring the voice as always. But something inside her is starting to crumble.

She feels herself shift.

She crawls up to accept her daily bowl of soup, and braces herself for the voice.

Can you feel it? You're changing.

She can, she admits. She can feel it. Something sinister is within her. It's dark— the opposite of the light from which she came.

The dark, can you feel it?

She can.

It's you. The dark is your true self.

She ignores, and sips the broth. It's tinted green with vegetables, she notices. She didn't care, but she has enjoyed a little of her time here learning culinary.

Though every day, she thinks about her past life. She calls it her past life even though it is still in her current lifetime, because the time after the incident is so different to before.

It had all started with the rebellion. Rebellion had been the fall of her. Who knew it would've dragged down her whole species.

Regret, regret, regret. So much regret.

Voices, voices, voices, she sings back. So many voices.

She thinks she hears a laugh, but maybe it is just delirium. But her suspicions are confirmed when she hears it again.

Hah. But what about this, foolish girl. I can make you fly again.

Her spoon pauses mid-way to her pale lips, and she freezes. The woman watches her closely, tilting her to ask what's wrong.

She shakes her head stiffly, saying it's nothing and that the soup is delicious.

What do you mean, she asks herself?

I could make you fly again. If only you trusted me...

Again, she feels her mind fill with the familiar emotion of temptation. Resist, she chides. But she knows that temptation is her only weakness.

How, she asks. She is wary but curious.

I could change you. You would be just like me— powerful, strong and you would have wings.

Who are you?

I am you. You are me.

Every day continues as normal from the outside, but internally every day is a battlefield for the fallen angel.

She falls asleep to the sounds of demon, demon and wakes to an uncanny silence.

The old woman is out to chop timber from the forests, and Alice is left alone in the cabin. She knows she should help out, but she reminds herself that she is selfish, and selfish people do not do kind deeds.

So instead, she sits alone on her mattress of wool, hugging her knees to her chest and her eyes staring at the fire. Its glow fascinates her, its beautiful ethereal light— just like Rafaela's smiles. She sobs at the analogy.

Will you listen to me now?

You have nothing to offer me, Alice replies. I have lost everything.

Everything but me, it says. Surrender to me and I will give you back what you have lost.

Hope and temptation course through her. Stop it, she tells herself. Stop trusting her. She is fluent in the language of lies, and you must not listen to her.

You could see Rafaela again.

Those words hitch her breath, bring tears and hope at the same time. She knows she shouldn't, but the chance to redeem herself seals the deal. Do it then, she dares, as she looks into the fire carelessly. Bring her back to me.

A laugh, and then silence. Alice frowns, the sudden disappearance of her companion unsettling. And then, fire.

She clutches her throat, her body as hot as the fire in front of her, her supply of air cut short. She claws at her throat, unable to breathe as chocked sounds that are not her own crawl out of her mouth.

"StuPID gIRl," a demon-like voice growls from Alice's own mouth. She slams her mouth shut to stop the words, but find she cannot. She cries out, but there is nothing but silence.

She is a prisoner within her own body. She can see through her eyes, but cannot move her own mouth.

"Well then," she hears herself say. "Time to feed."

She stands up, and shakes the woollen blanket from her shoulders. It falls into the flames and she smirks. Let it burn.

The fire crawls onto the wooden walls, and Alice knows that the house will be no more. She laughs, a deadly sound and laughs even more when the fire roars to its glory. "Burn," she hisses, then laughs at the irony of it all.

Let me out! Let me out, let me out!

She giggles, as she hears the angel cry in her mind. How amusing. She stalks out of the house, and admires her handiwork. The house is a pile of ash and flame, with the melted snow around it nothing but mere water against flame.

The old woman returns to an inferno and gasps when she sees Alice. "What happened," the elder cries, at the loss of her shelter, her home.

Alice is tempted to laugh, but she plays along. "I don't know," she whimpers. "I woke up to the fire."

The old woman's eyes soften, rid of suspicion. "It's alright," she soothes, pulling the demon into a hug. The angel cries within Alice's mind, and she smirks into the elder's shoulder.

In an instance, her fangs are in the elder's neck, drawing blood. She smiles at the gasp her prey produces, and licks her teeth clean before feasting.

Her mind echoes with the screams of the angel, and she lets out a maleficent giggle. "Hush now, angel," she says mockingly. "It'll be alright."

She is full now of blood, of energy, and done, she lets the body fall to the floor. She clenches her fist, and smirks when red smoke pours from her skin. The angel's wings regrow, but instead they are bat-like and they are perfect.

"Finally," she whispers. It's been so long. Too long she has been kept in her mind palace, waiting for the chance to have her own body to her command. She does not want to be the spectator, instead she want to play the game.

Searing heat stings her shoulder and she turns, eyes widening in horror as she sees the light in the sky. "It cannot be," she hisses, outraged, and she hears the voice within her head whisper the same thing in awe.

Blinding light, then gold. An angel appears before them, her face the image of cool rage, bright like gold yet ruthless like steel. "Light of Retribution," the angel roars, her staff channelling the rays of the sun.

The demon screams, feeling her existence slowly disappearing. Not again, she cries. I thought the angels were dead!

But the angel within her mind smiles at the light. In her last moments, the demon feels her control slip, and Alice is herself once more.

"Thank you, Rafaela," the Wings of Swiftness smiles, and never stops smiling when her body shreds into pieces and disappears into the light.

The Wings of Holiness stares at the ground, her heart full of regret.

"I'm sorry," Rafaela says softly, as she lays her sister to rest. "But it was my duty."

In regret, she turns away.

It had to be done.

endnote. i loved writing every word of this. i hoped you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it. It seems fitting that alice, a demon started out as an angel.

Theme. 'imperfect cadence' is a collection of oneshots, each one named after a battle spell in game. this was my idea, I did not copy it from someone else.

next chapter. kagura, retribution.

Please review and fave and follow! :D

/silver