Soaring

Soaring, slowing, diving, knowing.
From dust we come, and to dust we return. I know that is true for them, but for me, it is my first visit to the Dust.
From a height higher than a thousand suns, I fall, plummet rather, my wings beating steadily, propelling me downward faster than any human machine has ever flown. From heaven I venture, on a mission I greatly fear, in service to a Master they do not understand.
Do I understand?
I, Melphus, am old, certainly compared to their short lifespans, but still feel young, ignorant, and insufficient next to Him. I plunge into the upper stratosphere and decide to breathe. Crisp, clear, unpolluted. I realize the air is cold and choose to experience the brittle bite briefly. I fold my wings and let gravity take me, falling toward the planet below by choice, both in the moment and in the Grand Plan. Not a selfish choice, as the enemy has done, but a willing acceptance of an honor, of a long, dangerous mission.
Melphus, shadow grows upon the earth.
Yes, My Lord.
It is my desire that you become a Guardian in this dark time.
Your will is my will. His words resonate through every fiber of my being, my answer but a diminutive, complimentary note in the chorus. At 14,000 feet, the air is warmer, and I take another breath. Clouds billow below me, like a peaceful blanket hiding the violence I know awaits. I spread my wings once more, arresting my fall with alacrity. I suddenly am desperate to bask in the rays of the sun before I enter the darkness below.
My desire will be your strength, my purpose your shield, her potential your prize.
The thoughts enter my mind directly as if projected through the rays of sunlight. A shadow is coming, several of them, quite quickly.
You will be her strength.
The supernatural voice is obscured by a sound carried on the air molecules around me, and my attention turns sharply to the shadows, to the danger, to the sound of screaming rotary engines. Three strange contraptions power straight towards me, each like a large bird with straight wings. Crosses are painted clearly on the sides of their bodies and atop their wings.
The birds are not alive, but I sense souls within.
Coming fast. Move, Melphus. I beat against the air forcefully, executing a graceful arc up and over, standing on a wingtip, sweeping the other like the slash of a sword across the sky. The maneuver lands me directly behind them as they rush through the space I had just occupied.
Quickly, they power on, unaware of my existence. Curious, I surge forward, easily keeping pace with them. Humans are there, in the center of each machine, guiding them in concert, touching the controls of weapons. I can sense their purpose is violence. I fold my wings and corkscrew between two of them, alighting lightly on the roof of the third. A human is inside, his hair and face mostly covered by an animal skin covering. I open my eyes and See.
His heart beats steadily, pumping blood through his body, but there is no life in it. I can see the tendrils of his soul twisting like vines toward his brain, a cradle of life blackened and brittle. Small, mean fires feed hungrily on any part of the vines that appear strong, burning char to ash before leaping to the next branch.
Dead.
My world bucks suddenly, and when I regain my air control, I see the three airplanes have rolled into a steep dive, their wings nearly touching as they plummet through the clouds.
My time to soar over; I follow them in the dive, knowing that darkness awaits.
Blinded by the clouds, I become aware of another sound, a clanging, whining sound. It jars my senses, screams a warning.
Danger, Melphus. Death.
I smell the destruction before I see it, a burning odor. Not the pleasing aroma of incense, or of any one thing, but of a great many things.
Everything.
The clouds part suddenly, and I see the three machines bank and level off close to the ground. Fire spits from their teeth, and I see death spread before them in rapid-fire bursts.
NOOOO!
Two sensations pierce me simultaneously.
I feel helpless as I see bullets ripping through human beings, wanton destruction at a speed and magnitude I have never before seen humans create. I feel terrified that I have already failed, that one of the bloody bodies below was my mission, that the life I was supposed to protect is being shattered in front of my eyes because I paused to enjoy the sun.
Sudden urgency overtakes me, and I speed toward the death machines, belatedly thinking to rip them from the sky, to send their pilots to the permanent death they already live.
Melphus. No.
It comes as a whisper, nearly drowned out by the explosions and screams below. I pull up sharply, listening.
Remember your mission. Find her.