SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 78: The Fallen

Chapter 78: The Fallen

Days had passed since Morvane and Esmael’s fierce battle. The aftermath had left Morvane drained, his body aching from the sheer exertion of wielding the power bestowed upon him by Drace. Medas, ever watchful and wise, had expressed his growing concern.

"You used too much of that power," Medas warned, his voice tinged with caution. "Drace’s energy is not something to be taken lightly. It carries dangers beyond what you understand."

Morvane, resting against a sturdy oak within the confines of the room, simply nodded. Though he understood the risk, a part of him remained restless. His desire to grow stronger burned hotter with each passing moment.

"I need to practice more," Morvane declared, his voice resolute. "Or at least go to the cemetery and let my shadow beast devour spirits."

Medas narrowed his eyes. "You’re still weak, Morvane. You need more time to recover."

"I don’t have time, Medas. I need to be ready for whatever comes next," Morvane insisted. "It would help if I could collect power gems along the way. That way, I’ll have reserves to absorb when I need them."

Medas sighed heavily. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Fine. But I’m coming with you."

The sun hung low in the sky as they made their way through the dense woods that bordered the cemetery. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves. Shadows danced across the forest floor as branches swayed in the cool breeze.

Morvane’s senses were on high alert, his gaze sharp as he scanned their surroundings. Medas walked beside him, his staff glowing faintly with protective runes.

Suddenly, the forest fell eerily silent. Even the chirping of birds ceased. The hairs on the back of Morvane’s neck stood on end.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice low.

Medas nodded grimly. "Something’s coming."

Before they could react, a blinding streak of light tore through the sky, hurtling toward them with terrifying speed. It was comet-like in shape, blazing with intense energy.

Medas was the first to act. He raised his staff, ancient incantations spilling from his lips. A shimmering barrier of light formed around them, crackling with power.

The object hurtled toward them, its descent unstoppable. Medas poured more energy into the barrier, but just as the comet-shaped entity was mere meters away, it veered sharply and crashed into the forest floor with a thunderous impact.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and a shockwave sent leaves and debris flying into the air. Smoke and dust filled the clearing, obscuring their vision.

Morvane coughed and squinted through the haze. "What the hell was that?"

Medas didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured for Morvane to follow him. "Stay sharp," he muttered.

They cautiously approached the fallen object, expecting to find a meteorite smoldering in the wreckage. The ground was scorched and fragmented, the scent of burning earth thick in the air.

But as they reached the crater’s edge, both men froze. What they saw defied all expectations.

It wasn’t a meteorite.

It was a woman.

Her long, white hair cascaded across the charred ground like shimmering silk. Her skin was pale and luminous, though marred with faint smudges of soot. Her attire, though tattered and singed, suggested elegance beyond mortal craftsmanship.

Morvane’s eyes widened. "She’s beautiful... but how did she survive that fall?"

Medas knelt beside her, his expression grim. He pressed two fingers against her neck, searching for a pulse. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "She’s alive," he confirmed, though his tone carried an edge of uncertainty. "But she’s drained—completely depleted of energy."

"Is she human?" Morvane asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

Medas shook his head. "Not entirely. There’s something else about her—something ancient."

Morvane frowned. "Do you think she’s dangerous?"

"Potentially," Medas admitted. "But right now, she needs help."

He stood up and glanced at Morvane. "I guess we’ll have to postpone your mission to devour spirits today. This woman is our priority."

Morvane sighed but nodded. "Fine. But what do we do with her?"

"We’ll take her back to the palace," Medas said decisively. "If she’s here, it means something’s changed—and we need answers."

Morvane glanced down at the unconscious woman once more, unease prickling at the edges of his thoughts.

Medas and Morvane returned to the palace with the unconscious woman. The atmosphere was tense as the head healer examined her injuries and began treating the smaller wounds. Light magic shimmered faintly in the room as the healer did her best, though her brow furrowed with concern.

"Her minor wounds are healing, but she has six injuries so deep that my magic isn’t enough to close them," the healer admitted gravely.

Medas frowned. "Six deep wounds?"

Morvane’s expression hardened. "We need Luna. She’s the only one I know who might be able to handle this."

Medas nodded immediately. "Guard, summon Luna at once."

The guard bowed swiftly and left the room.

As they waited, Medas and Morvane stood by the woman, puzzled by her origins.

"She fell from the sky," Morvane muttered, shaking his head. "Did she have some flying power and just depleted her energy, causing her to fall?"

Medas crossed his arms. "It’s possible. But there’s more to this than we understand."

Before they could continue their discussion, the woman stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and with great effort, she sat up, though she looked dizzy and disoriented.

"What happened?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

When she realized she was still alive, tears streamed down her face. She clutched the blanket covering her as sobs wracked her body.

"It’s okay," Medas said gently. "You’re safe here."

The woman didn’t respond, overwhelmed by her emotions.

"You’ve endured more than most," the healer said softly. "But you still have six critical wounds that even my magic can’t fully mend."

Morvane stepped forward. "Luna is on her way. She’ll help."

The woman looked at them, her tear-streaked face trembling. "Are you the ones who—"

Before she could finish, the room darkened as shadows twisted and coiled at the edge of the walls. From the swirling abyss, Drevon emerged with his signature grin.

"Well, well, look who’s here," Drevon drawled, laughter dripping from his tone. "Isn’t this a surprise?"

The woman’s eyes flared with recognition. Her body trembled as she suddenly forced herself to stand. "A demon," she spat, her voice filled with loathing.

Drevon tilted his head, mock amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Ah, and you’re an angel, I assume?"

The woman’s glare could have scorched the very air, but she wobbled slightly, weakened by her injuries.

Drevon sneered. "I was busy tracking a peculiar surge of power beside Morvane when I sensed something... unique. That’s you, isn’t it?" He scanned her from head to toe. "Now, how did you end up here?"

The woman lifted her chin defiantly. "None of your business, demon."

Drevon’s eyes gleamed as though he had pieced together a puzzle. "Six wounds in vital parts of an angel’s body," he murmured thoughtfully. "Wait—don’t tell me they banished you from heaven? Wahahaha!"

The woman’s fists clenched, her eyebrows furrowing in rage. But she said nothing.

Morvane blinked, bewildered. "Hold on—she’s an angel? What?"

Drevon chuckled darkly. "You see, Morvane, gods and goddesses created ten angels to serve them. For balance, they made them as similar as demons like me. Like demons, angels have the same number of hearts—seven."

He gestured mockingly at the woman. "Seeing her with six cuts only means one thing: they took six of her hearts. She’s been outcasted and probably thrown out of heaven."

Morvane’s jaw dropped. "They took her hearts? That’s—"

Before he could finish, the woman, fueled by a surge of anger, lunged at Drevon. "Stop talking!" she roared.

But her strength was gone. Her attack was weak and barely made Drevon flinch.

Medas quickly moved to steady her. "You’re too weak to fight," he said gently, guiding her back down to the bed.

The woman clenched her fists in frustration, tears of anger and humiliation glistening in her eyes.

"Rest," Medas insisted. "You’re safe here, and we’ll figure this out."

Drevon chuckled one last time. "An outcast angel, huh? What a delightful mess."

He faded back into the shadows, leaving behind his unsettling laughter.

Morvane exhaled sharply. "This just keeps getting stranger."

Medas glanced at the weakened woman. "And far more dangerous."

The woman’s shoulders trembled as fresh tears streamed down her face. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I was thrown out because... they think I don’t fit to be an angel anymore."

Morvane’s expression softened, and he walked closer to her. He knelt beside the bed, his tone gentle. "Don’t be too harsh on yourself. What happened?"

She wiped her face with trembling hands, her voice heavy with grief. "The gods think I am unfit." Her voice broke. "They said I questioned their commands too often, acted on my own will, and disrupted the balance they so desperately cling to."

Medas listened in silence, his brows furrowing as he absorbed her words.

Morvane tilted his head. "Questioned their commands? Isn’t that what angels are supposed to do—to serve but also guide with wisdom?"

The woman shook her head bitterly. "Not in heaven. Obedience is absolute. I wanted to protect mortals differently, to stop unnecessary suffering instead of just watching it unfold. The gods saw it as rebellion."

Her hands clenched the fabric of the blanket. "So they took my hearts—six of them—and cast me out as punishment."

Morvane felt a wave of anger rise in his chest. "That’s cruel. They stripped you of your power and nearly killed you for caring too much?"

The woman didn’t answer, but her pained expression said enough.

Medas stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "You’re not the first to be cast out by those who fear change. That doesn’t make you weak or wrong. It makes you dangerous to those who cling to their rigid ways."

The woman looked at him, surprise flickering through her teary eyes.

Morvane nodded, his gaze steady, reassuring. "You’re safe here now. We don’t care what those gods think." His voice was calm, unwavering, as if he were offering not just shelter, but a promise. His lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "And for what it’s worth, questioning authority sounds pretty heroic to me."

The woman’s lips trembled, and for a moment, it seemed as though she wanted to protest, to argue that she didn’t deserve such kindness. But instead, her body exhaled a shaky breath, her shoulders loosening slightly as the weight of their words settled around her. "Thank you..." she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You don’t know how much that means."

Medas, however, was quick to remind them of the reality of their situation. His voice was firm, cutting through the fragile peace that had settled over them. "We’re not done yet." His eyes flickered briefly to the woman, and then to the door as though he were listening for something. "You still need healing. Luna should be here any moment."

Morvane gave the woman a reassuring nod, his expression softening just enough to show the faintest trace of empathy. "Hang in there. You’re stronger than you think." His words, though simple, were laced with a quiet strength, and he hoped they could offer even the smallest amount of comfort in the storm of uncertainty she was facing.

Though her pain still lingered in the tremors of her breath, the woman seemed to draw some strength from their words. Her chest rose and fell more steadily now, as though the weight of her past had lifted, if only slightly. She was still a long way from being healed, but in this moment, with the presence of people who refused to turn away, she had a sanctuary. And for now, that was enough—enough to stand on, to fight another day, and to hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she had once thought.