Angel of Fire

by memphisgurl

Design of an Angel

I laughed out loud for the second time that day. A record for me. For a second there, I thought Alea was going to join in on the fun.

She didn't.

In fact, the look on her face was even more dead serious than before. I had to wipe the tears out of my eyes from laughing so hard before I could speak. Even then, I still had difficulty.

“You've got to be kidding me.” When she didn't respond, I asked the impossible. “You don't actually expect me to believe you're an angel, do you?” I had a hard time saying that with a straight face.

She shook her head. “Yes, I do.”

“You're even more delusional than I thought!” I broke out laughing again until my sides started to hurt. Three times in one day...a new record.

When I finally caught my breath, I knew there was one last thing I needed to do.

Get rid of her. But how?

I suddenly realized two reasons why I liked the song I'd played for her so much. First, because I was really good at it. Second, because it seemed to irritate the crap out of Alea, which made me very, very happy.

Lifting the violin to my chin – bow poised over the strings – I held it like a loaded weapon. “If you don't leave me the hell alone, I'm going to play you an extended re-mix of your favorite song, and this time, I'm only going to play the Devil's portion.” When she didn't move, I dragged the bow over the strings with reckless abandon. “This is your last chance to get out, or so help me...”

I started playing the first few notes and Alea held up her front hooves as if surrendering - eyes furious.

I grinned to myself. “I knew you would see it my way.”

Pressing forward – violin aimed with my target in the cross hairs, hooves ready in case she decided to make any sudden movements.

When her back reached the door, she said, “Fine, I'll go.”

Point for me. I smiled in victory.

Alea slowly turned around, never taking her eyes off me. Just when I thought she was going to thrust open the barn doors, she stopped. Carefully choosing her words, she said, “If I leave now, you will never understand why Rumble tried to kill you. Or why I saved your life.”

I sucked in my breath. Point for her.

My victory was short lived.

“Can I put my hooves down now?” Alea asked, gingerly.

I nodded, clutching the violin and bow to my chest like a safety blanket.

“Scootaloo, I really am an angel.”

“Yeah, I got that part. What do you mean, you saved my life?”

“It might help you understand better if I start from the beginning.”

“You think?”

Choosing to ignore my snide comment, she pointed behind me. “Why don't we sit down?”

She motioned to one corner of a stall with two opened bales of hay that I lounged on like giant bean bag chairs whenever I wanted to decompress. I placed the violin and bow carefully back in their case and shuffled over to the haystacks, allowing myself to simply fall backwards. It was the best – if not only – way because you don't actually sit on hay so much as you lie in it. That's my preference anyway.

Alea seemed unsure of how to plant herself on her stack, but somehow managed to fold her lofty height into a relatively seated position.

“So, you were saying?” I urged. In the small confines of the space, a myriad of scents assaulted my keen sense of smell. The earthiness of newly stacked hay, combined with the rich scent of her jacket, and something else. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. The aroma was so unexpected, so appealing, and so utterly...intoxicating.

And then it hit me.

The unmistakable scent of sweet vanilla. Tormenting myself with her nearness, I breathed in as the comforting scent of her embraced me, wrapping around me like an invisible cloak of her very essence. Even when Alea clasped her hands together and began to speak, all I could think about was – why does an angel smell like vanilla?

“I am an angel of light. Currently, I travel between Heaven and Equestria, escorting souls to the afterlife. Prior to that I was a Guardian from the Realm of the Angels,” She began, in a tone so deep and resonant – filled with mournful suffering, as if her words could pierce my very soul like an arrow. “As I started to tell you earlier, Rumble was sent by Angels of Darkness to recruit you.” The serious look in her eyes robbed me of speech. All I could do was stare at her as she continued. “This war the fallen angels are raging goes back to the very beginning when the Devil led a revolt, challenging God's authority, and was cast out of Heaven. So many angels – loyal to the Devil – started following him that God finally had to intervene and close the gates of Heaven. For their defiance, the remaining angels – unable to escape God's wrath – were to be imprisoned in the Realm of the Angels for all eternity. God then enlisted the help of his most trusted and faithful angel to watch over them as Guardian of the realm. For centuries, peace existed until the imprisoned angels, tired of being controlled, rose up and tried to overthrow the Guardian. For their disobedience, the angels were banished to Equestria forever.”

I swallowed hard. I never doubted God existed, but listening to Alea really put things in perspective. As I studied her eyes, I wasn't sure if I truly believed her, but no regular mare could have such fierce eyes, so pale and luminous, so ageless. So haunting.

“Is that why you got so mad when I played you that song?” I asked, regretfully. The fact that the lyrics were about the Devil trying to steal someone's soul, took on a fresh, new meaning for me.

Alea nodded. “Yes. It is never a good idea to associate yourself with anything that glamourizes the Devil, or his intentions to deceive ponies.”

I made a mental note.

“Okay, so what happens now?” I asked, more than a little curious. “That can't be the end of your story. What do the Angels of Darkness want with me?” My thoughts returned to Rumble and I knew deep down inside that there had to be some kind of connection.

“Scootaloo, it is worse than anything you can imagine.”

I seriously doubted that.

What I'd already seen was pretty damn nasty. How could what she was about to say possibly be any worse? Instead of arguing my point, I waited for her to continue.

“Although Angels of Darkness are truly fallen angels, I prefer not to refer to them as such. I simply call them the Dark Ones.”

“Okay,” I said, correcting myself. “What do the Dark Ones want?”

“Revenge,” she said, ominously. "They are jealous of the favor God shows his favorite creation."

Maybe it was just an oversight, but Alea had somehow neglected to mention the part about, Rumble, the killer corpse.

Curious, I had to ask; although I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know. “What happened to Rumble? Uh...I mean, how did he get that way?” Just the thought of him all creepy and dead, sent shivers racing up and down my spine.
“I'm afraid I don't have an answer for that,” Alea breathed. “Rumble was simply carrying out orders. Somehow his morally righteous side had been stripped away. All that was left of him were characteristics of your movie monsters.”

I thought about that for a moment and realized that I'd never seen anything in a movie quite as terrifying as Rumble. The only difference was...Rumble was real. “What kind of monster was he? He looked like a zombie.”

“I'm not exactly sure,” Alea admitted, reluctantly. “From observing him, I do know that he craved flesh like a zombie, but he was not a zombie. He lusted for blood like a vampire, although he didn't need to feed to survive, and he seemingly wasn't unaffected by sun, but he was not a vampire. He grew claws and had razor sharp teeth like a wolf, but he was not a werewolf.”

Getting impatient, I said, “If Rumble wasn't any of those things, then what in the hell was he?”

Alea shrugged. “A new breed of monster that has never existed before.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “Are there more like him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

I knew then what real fear was. Forcing the words past dry lips I asked, “How many?”

Alea frowned. “I honestly don't know. Rumble was one in an endless army of the undead. Every time I destroy them, more are made.”

“Made?” I choked. “How are they made?”

She turned away to stare unseeing into the shadows. “The Dark Ones are most likely poisoning ponies with something that turns them into the creatures. Until I know how, I have no way of stopping them.”

“What do they want with an army of corpses?”

Alea slid a furtive glance in my direction. “The Dark Ones have gone underground to elude capture, and now they are using ponies as minions to recruit their offspring.”

I blinked rapidly in surprise. “What do you mean...offspring?” The word died in my throat.

Her gaze locked on mine. “The Dark Ones were banished from the Realm of the Angels almost exactly sixteen earth years ago. Seems like only yesterday to me.” She shook her head as if to erase an unpleasant memory. “They fell to earth and shortly thereafter, implemented a breeding program. In order to achieve the desired results, they only selected adult females with rare but powerful, God-given gifts such a pyrokinesis – the ability to create fire with the mind, and telekinesis – the power to move objects with the mind. Even the ability of accelerated healing and empathic abilities like sensitivity to touch and smell were not overlooked as potential weapons of war.”

“Some offspring have the power to control the minds of others, some can use telepathy to communicate without speaking, and some can even summon the spirits of the dead. Others can perform illusions with their mind and are also masters of black magic. The list of special abilities is long and complicated, not to mention the fact that the nature of the offspring’s power varies greatly, depending on both parents. Because the offspring are half-pony, half-angel, they are also naturally stronger – physically and mentally – as well as faster than ordinary ponies.” She paused to shake her head. “There is no denying the fact that the offspring will become a formidable force once they are fully mature and understand how to use their incredible powers. Until that time, they possess the distinct ability to live among you, camouflaged by their seemingly “normal” appearance. But, make no mistake about it, they are Angels of War, and the only reason they exist at all is to destroy ponykind.” Alea stopped abruptly to gaze deep into my eyes. It was almost as if she wanted to peer into my soul before uttering one final warning. “Scootaloo, I cannot stress enough how much they need to be stopped.”

I looked at him confused. “I don't get it. If the offspring are really the children of these Dark Ones, then why do they have to be recruited? Wouldn't they know what they really are?”

“Not necessarily,” Alea began. “Yes, on one hoof, there are some that know they are different and possess a natural compulsion to seek out darkness. However, there are others that have absolutely no idea who or what they truly are. I suspect that the mothers themselves were deceived and that even they didn't know the father of their children were, in fact, Angels of Darkness. The offspring also need to be recruited because they were born with the same promises given to all ponies by God.”

Finally! Something I understood.

I perked up. “You mean like Freedom of Speech?”

Alea laughed. “No, that would be the rights of every Equestrian citizen – pony's law. I'm talking about God's law, but more specifically, the promises he made to his children concerning free will. All of the offspring were born with a soul; therefore, they alone must decide if it is worth sacrificing in order to align themselves with the power of darkness.”

I had a thought. “You said the Dark Ones were banished sixteen years ago?”

She nodded, face grim. “Yes, almost exactly sixteen years and nine months ago.”

I didn't mention to her that my birthday was in three days, or that I was about to turn sixteen. It had to be some kind of coincidence. The coincidences were starting to pile up.

“Why is sixteen so...significant?” I asked in a shaky voice. Swallowing hard, I had to force myself to breath normally before continuing. “Why not recruit them last year, or when they were first born?”

“Basically, there are two reasons,” Alea said, taking the time to choose her words very carefully. “First, the Dark Ones wanted to wait until the offspring were at the height of their rebellion. It was thought that, as adolescents, it would be easier to convince them to give up their souls. And second, the stress of having both angelic and pony blood triggers a metamorphosis that only remains dormant until they turn sixteen. The Dark Ones couldn't have a bunch of rowdy, inexperienced, highly powerful teenagers, running loose and calling attention to themselves, so they decided to go ahead and recruit the teenagers right before their sixteenth birthday – when they were the most susceptible – in order to get them under ground to begin training. Assuming, of course, that the teenagers utilized their free will and gave up their souls first.”

My head was spinning with questions. I had to be missing something. “So, why did Rumble show up at school, looking for me?”

The expression on Alea's face softened. “Remember when I told you that he was trying to convince you to join his side of the rebellion?”

I nodded, but no words came out. Suddenly breathless, it felt like someone had just sucked all the oxygen from the barn. I didn't want to know the truth, didn't want to listen to her, but part of me...a really big part...needed to hear her say the words.

“Rumble was supposed to recruit you and bring you underground with the others. When you resisted, you became a threat to the Dark Ones plans. They cannot afford to have you fall into the hands of their enemy, so Rumble was ordered to kill you if you disobeyed him. I stopped him from carrying out his orders.”

“Why?” I choked. Not that I was complaining.

Alea took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Because you are the key to the whole thing.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, I'm the key?”

Alea lowered her voice. “Scootaloo, you have no idea how important you are, or how dangerous.”

I leaned forward, recalling her first words to me. "You don't look dangerous."

“Let me test my understanding here,” I said, rubbing my temples. “You're telling me that my dad, who I've never met by the way, is an Angel of Darkness.”

She nodded.

My eyes went wide. "So like, I'm supposed to be the product of an inappropriate angel and pony relationship?"

She nodded again.

“That's pretty messed up.” Shaking my head in disgust, I lowered my eyes as Beastie's words echoed eerily in my mind. Come with me Daughter of Darkness.

"I can't believe I'm a monster," I mumbled out loud. “I'm one of the bad guys."

Alea moved closer. Grasping my chin, which made me go all tingly inside, she tipped my head up to peer into my eyes. “Scootaloo, you are not bad. You did not choose to be born, but you do have a choice,” she said, gently.

She let go and I lowered my head as a single tear slid down my cheek. Another first. I've never cried before. Like ever. It's not every day that you discover you're one of the monsters.

“When I first saw you face to face,” Alea said, interrupting my pity-party, “I could hardly believe my eyes. I mean, here was this unassuming mare I'd been warned so much about, and I thought – this waif of a pony is supposedly stronger, more powerful, not to mention more lethal, than any other offspring ever born – yet she looks as gentle as a lamb. But then I reminded myself not to be fooled by appearances, because, underneath that innocent little disguise is a hungry wolf, hiding in sheep's clothing.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes. She was just trying to make me feel better. It was working better than she knew. So much so, in fact, that I finally raised my head and met her thoughtful gaze. The look she gave was pleading, not accusing. “What kind of monster am I?” My voice caught on a sob and broke, leaving me unable to ask, do you even know?

She chuckled to himself. “You are not a monster.” her eyes were so certain, so knowing, but what mattered most was that she didn't appear to be standing in judgment of me. As if reading my thoughts, she finished by adding, “And yes, of course I know what you are.”

I closed my eyes and took in a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly with an exaggerated sigh. Opening my eyes, I said, “Okay, I'm ready. What kind of mons...uh, I mean...what kind of creature am I?”

She tossed me a lopsided smile. As a matter of fact, she did that a lot. It was cute, but unnerving as hell. For a second there, I even forgot what we were talking about.

Alea cleared her throat, bringing me out of my daze. I snapped back to reality and, thankfully, her hypnotic smile was gone. I could finally concentrate. “Um, what did you say?”

She laughed. “I said that you are not a creature either.”

Relief swam through me. “That's good to know. So what am I...exactly?” I emphasized the last word, hoping beyond hope, that she wasn't going to give me more sheep references. I wanted...no, scratch that. I needed details.

A paragon of coolness, Alea regarded me evenly. When she spoke, her words were clear and precise, leaving very little to doubt. “You are a pony, but you also have the blood of an extremely powerful fallen angel coursing through your veins. Your father is the Angel of Destruction.”

That sure explained a lot.

Taking my right front leg, Alea pushed back the sleeve to expose my upper leg. I followed her eyes to the strange, raised marking that has always been on my skin since birth. Like a scar from a branding iron. Then she pushed back the sleeve of her jacket and showed me her leg.

“Every angel bears a sign, or a mark called a sigil. The mark embodies not only the identity, but also the power of the angel.” She lifted up my leg again and traced the outline of the pattern with her hoof. “Your sigil tells me that you are the Angel of Fire.”

I blinked in surprise. In fact, I was so shocked, you could have knocked me smack over with a feather. I've been called a lot of things in my life, but angel wasn't one of them.

“Angel of Fire,” I repeated in disbelief, touching the mark. “My mom always said it was a birthmark.” As I stared at my leg, I could clearly make out the symbol for fire that only now made sense to me. The image reminded me of something else she'd said, so I asked, “What did you say about me being a key?”

She smiled again. Danger! Danger!

I made a point of concentrating on her eyes. Eyes don't make me stupid. “What I said was – you are the key to the Dark Ones plans. I didn't actually mean that you are a key.”

“Oh.” I gave her a hard look – I was still missing something. “How am I the key again?” Getting details out of her was like pulling teeth.

“Haven't you been paying attention?” she asked, perplexed.

I heaved a sigh. “Paying attention is overrated.”

“Scootaloo, focus. I want you to listen to me very carefully,” she said, voice stern. I looked at her harder. “You were born to set the world on fire. And I mean...literally. You – and only you – hold the key that either saves ponykind, or destroys it.”

My eyes went wide. “That's pretty heavy for a fifteen-year-old.” Alea nodded her head in agreement. “How would I destroy the world?” I asked. The question I was asking myself was more like...why would I even want to?

Alea knelt beside me. “By making the wrong choice and sacrificing your soul. If you choose to side with the Dark Ones, they will use your power to bring ponykind to its knees. Their goal is simple. They intend to rid the world of ponies.”

I felt suddenly tired, so tired. Not physically, more like mentally exhausted...which is worse in my book. “Well, I'm not planning on destroying the world. So now what do we do?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I get scary cranky when I'm tired.

“Business as usual,” she said, simply.

I rolled my eyes in full crank mode. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I want you to go to school tomorrow and pretend like you never met me.”

That won't be hard.

“How is that going to help?” I muttered.

“The Dark Ones will send another one of their minions to recruit you.”

"Don't you mean, zombie?" When she didn't respond, I had no choice but to say, “Aaand...?” Somehow, I knew I wasn't going to like the next part.

“And...I want you to be submissive for once in your angsty teenage life, and go with the minion so I can follow in order to find their lair. That's the only way I can defeat them.”

I hate when I'm right.

“Let me get this straight. You want to use me so you can find out where the Dark Ones' hiding place is?”

She didn't respond.

I repeated the question because I didn't think he'd heard me. This time...louder. “You want me to be zombie bait?”

"I already explained it to you. They’re not zombies."

"Whatever!"

She smiled, but not like she was happy. “I heard you the first time, by the way. But I'm afraid I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You will do this for me; otherwise, I will never be able to locate the Dark Ones’ lair. I promise, you'll be perfectly safe," she added, almost as an afterthought in case it might make me change my mind.

It didn't.

I gave a sharp laugh. “I thought you said you knew me.”

She nodded. “I do know you. Better than you think."

I narrowed my eyes. “Then you should already know my answer.”

“And what answer is that?” she said, folding her front legs across her chest.

“I never do anything I'm told. Just ask my mother.”