Chapter 80: THE SECRETS OF THE ANGEL OF WATER
That night, Castiel sat in his allocated room, holding onto the leather bag that he had carried off from the angel realm. The soft flicker of the candle light cast long shadows across the stone walls of the demon castle.
Of course, being an angel, he had never been so deep in enemy territory before, but the castle was everything that Castiel had thought it would be, perhaps even more. Since it was night, it was eerily silent, save for the distant hum of creatures that lurked in the night. Most of the sounds Castiel did not recognize, and he decided it was better to stay cooped up in his room than go out for a walk.
There was a faint scent of something sweet clinging to the air, mixing with the lingering warmth of the day’s sunlight that had seeped into the dark stone.
Castiel hardly registered any of it, as his focus was on the worn leather bag that rested on his lap. His fingers traced the familiar stitching along the edges of the leather bag. It was heavy, not in weight, but in meaning, as it carried more than the meagre belonging he had packed in a rush before coming to the demon realm. He was not ready to share it, even with his sister.
The situation made him wonder if he had always been such a coward.
His jaw clenched as he hesitated, staring at the brass buckle that kept the bag closed. The room felt colder, as the weight of his decision to run away clung tightly at his chest. He stared at the brass buckle that kept the bag closed. Just staring at it sent a cold shiver down to the tips of his wings.
Finally, with his mind made up, he unfastened the buckle and opened the bag.
Inside were the usual essentials- a spare pair of formal clothing; the only item of clothing he had packed; his dagger and a small metal rod which turned into a staff when he needed to fight. Tucked between those few things was a wooden chest and a bundle of parchment that was sealed with the emblem of the angel council.
He pulled that parchment out of the bag, hovering his fingers pounding above it as his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.
He was sure that they knew. They knew what he had done, knew that he had run away.
He pulled out the parchment, and his eyes scanned the golden seal that shimmered faintly in the candle light. His hands trembled as he broke it open, revealing the letter that he had read a hundred times when he had gotten it. Each time, it felt like a blade was being twisted deeper into his gut.