Chapter 6: Communion of the Damned

His voice was heavy with resignation, like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.

6.

Michael was no longer the Angel of Justice, but an old, emaciated wild man, barely able to stand with his iron staff. Thunderbolts rained down on him; he struggled to block them, then gasped for breath. In front of him stood another Father Ambrose, radiant in a splendid robe—Father Benedict.

The air crackled with static, the scent of ozone sharp in my nose. Michael’s face was lined with pain and exhaustion, but his eyes still burned with stubbornness.

Michael had been watched over by a fragment of Benedict’s holy body for five hundred years. Now, seeing him again, he had no fight left. For five centuries, he’d taken the thunder tribulation for the wild men. If he left, they’d all be burned to ash. Even though the wild men now lived worse than death, he couldn’t let the thunder fall on them. But the once-mighty Angel now had only half a breath left.

If Father Ambrose didn’t come, he’d die soon, helpless before the storm.

I managed to ask Michael, my voice numb, “Are you convinced now?”

He gave a bitter laugh, brittle as dry grass. “Convinced. After all, I’m just a beast—I can’t beat you.”

His laughter was hollow, the sound of a man who’s lost everything but pride.

I nodded, then asked him to recite with me, “Hallelujah.”

When he finished, the thunder vanished, and he could finally breathe.

The relief on his face was almost painful—a man released from torture, but left empty.

I knew Michael still had the power to kill me. In my heart I urged, “Strike! You’re the Angel of Justice. Where’s your defiance? Why won’t you fight?”

But Michael didn’t move. He knelt before me like a novice preacher, waiting for commandments.

A wisp of golden light rose from Benedict’s holy body, forming a halo over his head.

I understood: as long as Michael harbored murderous intent, thunder would strike the wild men’s city again.

Michael closed his eyes, throat choking with sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he opened them, the wildness was gone.

He asked me, “May I see my wild men and descendants?”