FATE AND REDEMPTION

  FALL OF THE LIGHTBRINGER

  BOOK THREE

  KATERINA MARTINEZ

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Also by Katerina Martinez

  Follow Katerina

  CHAPTER ONE

  SARAKIEL

  Medrion was there when I opened my eyes. He was staring at me, his gaze fixed and angry. Sucking a quick gulp of air in through my teeth, I scrambled away from him, my hands clambering over uneven ground that clattered and shuffled beneath me.

  The air tasted like dirt; rancid, cold, and hard to inhale.

  Medrion didn’t move. I realized after a moment that he wasn’t looking at me, but through me. Even in the dim light, I could tell his eyes were glazed over and glassy.

  And his neck was entirely the wrong way around.

  The sight of his twisted muscles made my stomach tighten and turn itself over. I found myself fighting the urge to gag, to throw up what little food was left inside of me. He was dead. I had watched Lucifer kill him and throw him.

  Throw him… in here.

  Into the Pit.

  Dread filled me as my memories rushed back. My head spun, nausea filling me and making me feel even more lightheaded than I already was. The ground seemed to give way from under one of my hands and I wasn’t quick enough to stop myself from sliding a few feet. That slide turned into a tumble, and that tumble quickly became an unstoppable roll that only ended when I hit a wall.

  Debris fell on top of me, disturbed by my fall. I had to bat the landslide away from my face to keep it from burying me, from suffocating me. When the ground stopped churning, I opened my eyes and discovered that I had landed at the bottom of a tall mound of bones—I could just about see the tip of one of the dead archangel’s wings, sticking out at the top of the pile.

  We must have both landed on it when we were thrown in.

  Around me were more bones; skulls that seemed to watch me from behind eye-less sockets, ribcages, hands, and even spinal cords surrounded me. Everything was coated in a thick layer of ash, some of which hung in the air, making it difficult for me to take even the slightest of breaths without coughing.

  It would’ve been pitch dark down here, if not for the single spot of light way, way, way above me.

  It was so incredibly faint.

  Like a distant star.

  Just bright enough to reveal the horror of my surroundings, but not bright enough to bring me any comfort. In fact, the light only made my dread surge again, because I recognized it.

  It was him.

  Lucifer.

  That was his Light, and if he was still up there, then so was Abaddon.

  Desperate I tried to get to my feet. The bones beneath me roiled as I stood up, feeling more like quicksand than solid ground. It didn’t matter where I put my hands or feet, there were bones; some crushed and broken, some entirely whole.

  I managed to stand, balanced precariously on top of the morbid pile, though my shoulders and wings felt sluggish—like I was being weighed down by something heavy and invisible. I opened my mouth to yell.

  “Abaddon!” I roared.

  There was no echo.

  My voice didn’t bounce along the walls of the Pit, instead it seemed to slap against them dully, muted and choked by the build-up of dust and grime. I tried again, this time screaming until there was no air left in my lungs. I called for Abaddon again, I called for help, I even called for Lucifer; but the Pit swallowed my voice, grabbing the sound and dragging it back down.

  I wasn’t about to give up and let this place take me. Angels had to be broken before they were thrown in here, crushed so they wouldn’t have the strength to pick themselves up and claw their way back into Heaven. I was neither broken nor crushed, so if anyone was going to get out of here, it was going to be me.

  Heaven was right there.

  Abaddon was right there—and I had wings.

  I shrugged my shoulders and unfurled them. Just that simple movement had kicked up a massive cloud of dirt that was difficult to see through. It was only going to get worse when I beat my wings, but there was no time to waste.

  One hard push and I was up and off the ground, another and I was about two feet up. Three feet. Four feet. I had to fight for every single inch of height, not because I was weak, but because the Pit was trying to drag me back down.

  It wanted to keep me down here, it didn’t want me to leave, and it was going to do everything it could to ensure I didn’t get where I wanted to go.

  But there was Light up there.

  There was hope.

  Down in the Pit was only death, despair, and the corpse of the angel who had once tried to break me. I couldn’t stay. I had to get back up into Heaven, and the only way to do that was through sheer force of will.

  It felt like I was flying with leaden boots strapped to my ankles and an anvil on my shoulders. I had never fought against resistance like this before, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was already getting tired. I couldn’t see the bottom anymore; there was only a swirling cloud of ash and an infinite void.

  Above me, though… up there was—no.

  The light above me winked out, my distant star suddenly gone; vanished. I called for Abaddon again, screaming until my throat was raw, but the effort of yelling exhausted me, and the Pit’s gravity seemed to increase.

  I tried to grab hold of the walls around me, clawing at them with my fingers to try to keep myself from plummeting. I managed only to bloody my hands and scrape my fingernails before inevitably losing my grip and sinking back into the bottom of the Pit, slamming once more into the pile of bones.

  Hacking, coughing, pain shooting through my shoulders, back, and wings, I tried to pick myself up. There was nothing to hold on to, and as I dug at the angel remains around me, looking for something solid to anchor myself with, it felt like the skeletons were trying to grab me back and pull me under and into their bony embrace.

  I kicked and struggled with every fiber of my being, and out of desperation came a sudden flash of Light.

  My Light.

  It was warm and bright. The Light fought some of the gloom away, fought the swirling ash away, fought even the bones away. I found myself on my hands and knees, but with sure ground underneath me.

  And I could breathe.

  My breaths came quick and short to begin with, but I managed to steady myself after a moment or so. I didn’t know how much Light I had left in me, or if I would get it back after I used it, so I tried to relax and dim it down to a softly glowing ball that could fit in the palm of my hand.

  I sat down, taking a moment to rest. I had to think. I had to figure out a way to get back up. The Light above was gone. Did that mean Lucifer was gone? Had Abaddon gone with him… or? I didn’t want to think about the ‘or’, so I busied myself looking up the walls of the Pit, shining my Light on them and inspecting every detail. I could see they weren’t smooth but rocky, with jagged edges and outcroppings I thought I could grab hold of and climb.

  But my fingers were already sore and scratched from earlier.

  “There has to be a way up,” I said to myself, the dank air around me swallowing my words.

  There came, however, a reply—and hearing it rooted me to the spot.

  “There is no way out,” said Medrion. “If you think there is, you are a greater fool than I thought.”

  Panic swelled inside of me. I shone my Light in his direction, but I couldn’t see him properly. I could only see the glint of his golden armor, and some of his wing. He was turned away from me, his body entirely still and unmoving.

  And yet, there was his voice.

  “You’re dead,” I dared venture, trying to sound resolute though my composure had cracked.

  “Am I?” asked Medrion. “Who are you talking to, then?”

  “No one. Myself. This place is playing tricks on me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you cannot deny the truth of my words. You are trapped here, Sarakiel. Trapped here with me for all eternity, just as I promised.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “You aren’t real, and I’m getting out of here. I’m not broken—I still have my Light.”

  “For how long? Surely you have felt it drain. What little reserves you had are dwindling by the second, every moment you keep that little ball glowing in your hand allows the crushing darkness around you to close in. Tell me. Tell me you can feel it.”

  The truth was, I could.

  He was right.

  I didn’t have much Light left in me, and what little I did have wasn’t coming back. On Earth, I was cut off from Heaven, but I could still regenerate my Light—as was my right as a Lightbringer. Down here, t
hough… down here, where there is no Light… the story was different.

  “Even in death you won’t shut up,” I said.

  “I will not,” said Medrion. “And we are both here, together forever, until the end of all things.”

  I heard a shuffling sound, like bones rattling. I thought I saw Medrion’s wing twitch. It had to have been a trick of the dim light, though. He couldn’t have moved; he was dead, and there was no Light at the bottom of this mass angelic grave for him to heal himself with. And yet, in the dark, it seemed like he was starting to rise. I swore I saw his shoulder roll, the Light from my hand bouncing on his golden armor.

  I shook my head again. “No, no, no,” I said, getting onto my feet. “No, you can’t get up. You’re dead!”

  “Watch me, Sarakiel,” he said, “Watch me rise so that we may pick up where we left off. Just you and me. In here. Forever.”

  “No!” I screamed, and I shone my Light at him, intensifying the glow in the palm of my hand so that I could see him clearly.

  He hadn’t moved.

  Medrion lay on his side, his back to me, his neck twisted and facing the ground. Had he actually spoken, it would’ve been through a mouthful of dirt and bits of bone. He wasn’t talking to me, he wasn’t going to talk to anyone ever again… but I had just expended another bit of my power.

  It was this place.

  This tomb I had been thrown into.

  Who or what ever had just talked to me, whether it had been Medrion or something else, had been right. The Pit was going to drain me of my Light. It was only a matter of time. And when my Light was gone, what would be left of me?

  Nothing.

  Just bones and ash.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Time meant nothing in the Pit. The darkness and silence pressed in on all sides as if to suffocate me, to choke me, to rob me of my breath and my senses until I submitted to it. I hadn’t snuffed out the dim ball of Light in my hand because otherwise I feared I would fall away and there would truly be nothing left of me.

  It could have been hours since I fell.

  It could have been days.

  Maybe even years… I had no way of knowing. I was hungry, thirsty, and tired, but there was nothing to eat or drink, and I hadn’t yet tried to sleep. Stuck somewhere between Heaven and Hell, was I still mortal? Did I need food, and water, and sleep, or was the point of the Pit to make you feel like you were forever in need of those things and unable to satisfy them?

  As exhausted as I felt, the idea of sleeping next to Medrion’s corpse on a bed of deceased angel bones didn’t exactly appeal; if I was going to die, I preferred to face it with as much dignity as I could, and that meant I had to try to get out of here.

  No matter the cost.

  That was when I heard it. A sound, somewhere in the silence. Weak. Faint. Barely audible, but there nonetheless. In the deadening, purposeful quiet of the Pit, even the faintest noise could mean something; no matter what it was. This sounded like a voice. It was barely a syllable, a deep murmur heard almost as if through water.

  I looked across at Medrion—no, it hadn’t been his voice.

  Another trick? I thought to myself.

  But then I heard it again.

  Unlike Medrion’s voice, this one seemed to be coming from… outside. Outside? Looking around, using my dwindling Light to pierce the gloom, I saw only solid rock walls all around me. Walls, bones, and Medrion’s corpse. But there was a voice, somewhere out there—or, at least, there had been.

  I waited, listened. I could hear my own pulse pounding against my eardrums getting louder, and louder. Then I heard it again, but closer this time. Someone was talking; I knew I couldn’t be imagining it. I scrambled toward where I thought it was coming from, only to find myself face to face with the same stone walls.

  I wasn’t sure why I had expected anything different, but I felt around the wall desperately, hoping to find a hole or an opening, anything. There had to be something. That was the only way I could have been hearing anything at all coming from the other side. But the wall was stubbornly intact, not even a crack.

  I heard the voice again, only this time it seemed weaker and more distant than the previous two times I had heard it.

  It’s going away.

  I placed my hand against the stone wall and screamed. “Help! Is anybody out there?!”

  It seemed hopeless to scream into the void, but it was all I could think to do. I waited, ear pressed up against the cold stone, until I heard the voice again. Yes! There it was again, closer than it had ever been. I couldn’t understand what it was saying, or even who was speaking, but there was definitely someone there, just on the other side.

  “Please help me!” I yelled, banging on the stone wall with my hand, “I don’t know how to get out of here!”

  Something happened, then, that I hadn’t expected.

  A chunk of the rock wall I had banged against… fell off. It dropped to the ashen ground underneath me with a dull thud, sending up a small puff of dust as it did. Dumbfounded, I stared at the rock, shone my Light against it, picked it up, turned it around in my hands—it was small, barely a few inches thick. It would have been unremarkable if it hadn’t just come from the walls of the Pit.

  I was pretty sure I didn’t have the strength to break solid rock with my fists.

  I felt around the rock wall again, running my fingers into the groove the rock had broken off from. I picked at its jagged edges with my fingernails, and as much as I couldn’t believe it, small rock shavings were coming off the wall.

  I heard the muffled voice on the other side speak once more, this time directly at me.

  Dig, it said.

  Dig? Into the stone wall? With what?

  I looked around and grabbed the first piece of bone I could see, slamming it against the wall like a makeshift pickaxe. The first two strikes seemed to have no effect on the stone, and on the third, the bone shattered in my hands.

  I tried several more pieces with the same result before tentatively approaching Medrion’s corpse and carefully removing a piece of his armor. His pauldrons were curved and seemed the perfect shape for digging, but they smashed and crumpled like paper as soon as I hit the wall.

  Running out of options, I ran my fingertips along the stony wall again, looking for places to pick at with my nails. I couldn’t believe what was happening—parts of the rock face were coming off in little flecks that floated harmlessly to the ground. Curious, I placed my hands against the stone wall, sliding my fingernails into whatever crevices and cracks I could find.

  I then pulled, scraping my nails along the rock wall.

  Wincing from a sudden bite of pain, I pulled my hands away from the wall. There was blood on my fingertip, a jagged line of broken skin just under my fingernail. I thumbed it off, smearing the blood along my purple-stained finger and continued to dig into the wall.

  It shouldn’t have been possible for me to remove parts of this cavernous wall with my bare hands, but as I dragged my fingers down the rock, more and more pieces of it were coming off. It was as if the rock was suddenly soft, instead of solid. Not quite like raking my hands through dirt though, it was more like dragging through gravel and broken glass.

  I could feel the rock giving way as I bore into it, and that made me start moving faster. After a few moments, I was hacking at the rock with my hands, taking giant pieces out of it and making something that looked like a tunnel. But then I felt pain again, sharp and sudden. I retreated, pulling away from the wall and staring at my hands.

  They were bleeding, my hands covered in lacerations that weren’t just surface deep. Blood dribbled down my forearms, my nails starting to come up from their beds.

  I stared at my bleeding hands, trembling, panting. Shutting my eyes, I channeled some of my Light into the wounds. The warmth soothed the pain, allowing me a moment to recover from it. When I opened my eyes, the cuts were mostly gone and my nails had rejoined the skin, but the blood remained—as did the makings of the tunnel I had just tried to dig into the wall of the Pit.

  I had no way of knowing how thick the wall was, no way of knowing how far I would have to dig or if this was going to happen every time I stuck my hands into the wall. What I knew with certainty, though, was that I had just used up more of my remaining Light.

  Maybe this was another trick, another way to get me to spend myself so I would end up like the skeletons all around me. I could either resign myself to eventually suffocating, or starving, or dying of dehydration—or worse, none of those things ever happening.