[Malach]
The night outside was starless again. A blank sky with a lone moon hanging over the capital, quiet and pale. Without the constellations, the city looked strangely hollow, as if the heavens had forgotten to finish painting it. Malach felt that hollowness settle inside him while walking the short path to the Horn residence next door.
The home was warm and bright when he entered, the lamps catching the polished wood floors in soft gold. Wells Horn greeted him first, tall as ever, broad shouldered, posture straight. His hair was a muted light brown, neatly combed, and his green eyes had that same sharpness Malach noticed the day they met. He spoke with a calm, steady authority that filled a room even when his tone was casual.
Sheldry Horn was nearly as tall as her husband, long limbed with the same hair and striking green eyes, though softened by gentle features. Their two sons resembled them closely, one in his late twenties, another in his mid teens. They greeted Malach politely before returning to their seats.
Malach took in the contrast quietly. Their light hair and green eyes made his own dark brown hair and darker eyes feel even more muted by comparison. Something about the family looked visibly cohesive. He, meanwhile, always felt like some shade pulled slightly to the wrong hue.
As he sat, his thoughts drifted to the report he asked Orvell to prepare. Wells's recorded life was strangely thin. Born in the Atlanta suburbs. Entered the military police. After that, more than a decade of absence in the public record until he resurfaced as a subcommander in the 3rd Urban Legion. A jump with no visible steps in between.
It bothered Malach, though he tried not to show it.
Dinner began with small talk. Complaints about the travel ban. Remarks about the curfew. The citywide order to remain indoors except for essential duties.
Wells finally leaned back slightly."My legion was ordered to mobilize in East Central. Also the port and warehouse district. Fifth and sixth wards. Gardens and Appleshire as well."
Malach nodded, trying to picture the map. He knew the port hugged the mouth of the Mississippi. The fifth and sixth wards sat just to the west of it, divided by old canals and rail lines. East Central pressed against all three. To the north lay Appleshire, the historic heart of the capital, the first district built when settlers reclaimed the swamp in the mid seventeen hundreds. Gardens was the quietest ward, full of old villas and open parkland, a place reclaimed from marshland in the city's early expansion.
"Busy times," Wells added.
His tone made it sound heavier than the words implied.
Sheldry shifted the topic."If this emergency escalates, where do you expect to be placed, Malach? Surely you have an idea."
Her question was elegantly phrased, but Malach understood the intent. In their circles, asking about one's capability directly was crude. People of their social tier were assumed to be capable at least to some degree. She wanted to know his magical standing, but politely.
Malach offered a light smile."I imagine I would fit somewhere in a support role. Background work. Logistics, perhaps."
Sheldry nodded politely, though Malach could tell she found the answer thin.
Wells set down his fork. "Tell me something, Malach. Do you think magic makes people more general, broad? or more specialized?"
Malach blinked at the sudden shift.
"Well," he said slowly, "magic expands what we can accomplish, but it also limits us to whatever theme or type we awaken with. So in a sense it opens possibilities, but narrows direction. I suppose it makes us both more capable and more fixed."
Wells shook his head slightly."That is not what I meant."
The room felt different. The air thicker somehow. Malach's attention drifted along the walls where a sequence of old murals encircled the dining room. Painted in the style of old Catholic cathedrals, they depicted a lone figure across many panels. The figure fought in one, fell in another, rose reborn in the next, only to repeat the cycle again and again. Endless struggle and renewal. He had never noticed them so sharply until now.
Wells spoke again."Does magic make us conform. Does it push us along a path, or does it remove burden and let us walk freely."
Malach lowered his eyes to his plate. Lamb braised with herbs, resting beside roasted vegetables glazed in oil. He swallowed once, feeling the pressure of the room.
"I think," he said at last, "that we are born without purpose. Whatever magic gives us does not decide who we are. We decide that ourselves."
A faint change crossed Wells's face, a nearly imperceptible tightening of the mouth, gone as quickly as it came. He continued eating as if nothing had passed between them.
Conversation turned then to the angels.
"It is likely their doing," Wells said, gesturing toward the window. "The loss of the stars. Eryon has been silent for centuries, but silence does not mean inactivity."
Malach nodded. "I read accounts from the early days of the Grounding. Before the walls rose. Humans interacted with the angels then. There were even records of hybrid children, though they vanish from history after that."
Wells gave a low hum."I have seen their walls myself. The western front in Russia. The soldiers there told me anyone who touches it dies instantly."
Malach leaned slightly forward."What do the walls look like."
"Impossible. Ten times the height of Everest. Dark stone. The surface carved with enormous angels, but every one hooded so their faces are hidden. No one knows why. Instruments break when used on the stone. Vehicles fail near it. Yet vines grow freely across it and survive."
Malach felt a shiver."So the stars disappearing might be a warning."
"Or a judgment," Wells replied.
The rest of dinner passed in quieter tones. Eventually Malach took his leave, thanking Sheldry and the boys before stepping into the cool night air.
Once Orvell collected their things, they left the Horn household estate.
"Wells likes to discuss esoteric topics, does he not." Malach muttered
"Yes," Orvell said softly. "Tonight he was unusually serious."
Malach looked up at the blank sky again. No stars. Only the moon.
A quiet answer from a world that was beginning to change.