Chapter 8: The Blood Moon’s Chosen

"But don’t worry, Autumn. Michael and I will get you out. Just hang in there."

The day after Olivia’s visit, Michael himself came to let me out.

"I’ve checked. There’s no evidence you colluded with demons. Autumn, promise me—don’t get mixed up with demons again."

His hand was outstretched, the curse mark on my chest burning hot. Without thinking, I placed my hand in his.

After that, when Michael left the mountain, I stayed put. Each time he came back, he brought me little treasures from the mortal world.

I was happy, but started thinking about a return gift.

Before I could decide, I heard Olivia had been sent to the Far East Isle to fetch Celestial Bluegrass.

"Far East Isle?" My eyes lit up.

I’d read about the isle’s spirit bird, Luminara, whose feathers were softer than silk but tougher than steel.

If I could make armor from those feathers for Michael, it’d be perfect.

So I begged Olivia to take me along.

After a week on the spirit ferry, we finally made it. Olivia went for the grass, I went bird-hunting.

Half a day later, I found Luminara.

I poked the bear (well, bird), fought it for half an hour, and when enough feathers had fallen, I made a break for it.

When it flew off, looking like a plucked Thanksgiving turkey, I came back to gather feathers.

Olivia showed up and helped. As we were picking up the last of them, a chorus of furious bird cries echoed behind us.

Our fingers froze. We shared a look and ran for our lives.

Wings thundered behind us.

Olivia gasped as we ran: "If we knit these feathers into a beanie for the bald bird, maybe they’ll let us go?"

She shouldn’t have said that. The bird shrieks got louder, and I swear I heard, "Is that something you humans could even do?"

We ran for what felt like forever, finally ducking into a cave, with only a handful of feathers left.

I let out a long sigh.

"What’s this?" Olivia suddenly said, her voice echoing off the stone.

She flicked her fingertip, lighting a small fire, and examined the cave wall.

Catching my breath, I looked too.

"Looks like a mural."

As the firelight danced, the carvings came into focus.

"St. Gabriel’s old leader?" Olivia gasped. "Is this the angel-demon war from a hundred years ago?"

Corpses littered the ground, blood filled the sky. At the center, a fierce angelic woman with her hair tied high raised her sword against a demon woman marked with a blood moon.