The inner courtyard presented a scene of elegance. Black sand swept into patterns encircled a solitary bare tree with silver bark. This was where the Angel of Death instructed his son.
"Death is not a foe " the Angel declared, positioned opposite Cassiathon. "It serves as an ending. An essential period. To dread it is to dread the flipping of a page."
"Relay that to the billions slain by Vernia Vouw " Cassiathon retorted, assuming a fighting posture. "Would you call that a ' full stop'?"
The air turned chillier. "Do not mistake massacre for intention. The Queen of the Abyss twists conclusions into pain. My responsibility is to stop pain. There is a gulf, between us you need to recognize."
Suddenly the Angel shifted. It wasn't a flash but an unsettling stillness—he was merely elsewhere the scythe's handle cutting towards Cassiathon's side.
Cassiathon responded, his energy bursting forth. Streams of force resembling tangible rot shot out from his hands blocking the strike. The sand where the energies met transformed into colorless dust.
"Good. Instinctive. Yet awkward." The Angel intensified the assault his motions a balance of deadly elegance. "Your strength is not a weapon. It is a scalpel. It is the shutting of an eye the last breath. You handle it like a madman."
"Perhaps I am the one!" Cassiathon snarled, releasing a surge of the grey energy. The silver tree trembled as its bottom branches wilted and broke apart.
The Angel's scythe gleamed. Of slicing through the energy he split it forming a void pathway directly to Cassiathon. The handle brushed Cassiathon's chest a contact bearing the force of a mountain.
Cassiathon exhaled sharply recoiling as an emptiness radiated from where they touched. For an instant he sensed nothing—no pulse, no inhalation, no flicker. The complete absence of death.
It endured briefly before existence surged back sharp and intense. He dropped to his knees trembling.
The Angel towered above him. "Within you lies a paradox, Cassiathon. The eternal spirit of the Demon Queen trapped within a form, by human desire. I have fused it with my essence yet the mixture is unstable. You need to control it. Otherwise it will control you. You will turn into a curse upon the scarce remnants."
Tania showed up at the doorway arms folded. "That's all the teaching for now. He has to eat."
The Angel gazed from his quivering son to his resolute wife. The severity, in his expression eased, slightly enough for them to notice. "He must come to understand."
"He will " Tania stated, her voice brooking no dissent. ". Only once he's eaten. Let's go, Cass."
As Cassiathon pushed himself up, the Angel spoke again, quieter. "The whispers on the cosmic winds grow louder. Vernia Vouw has sensed the anomaly in her essence. She is searching. Your time for mere practice is ending."