There was silence throughout most of the cavernous room at Celeste’s words. It was not out of respect, but out of shock. It was a moment or two after this stunned silence did the room begin to erupt with laughter. Even the common folk who had arrived for the ritual were laughing at her statement. Even the soldiers were doing their best to maintain composure while holding her down. After a sigh to chase away the chuckling, Emlyn gestured to the soldiers.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“Bring her to my feet,” </span>he commanded them, before turning to the true devil who had brought her.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00"> “And you shall go meld the obsidian.”</span><br/><br/>There was a nod and a slight bow before the true devil simply disapparated in a puff of sulphurous smoke. The soldiers lifted Celeste up once more and pulled her half naked form through the air until they came to rest on the lip of the balcony where Emlyn’s throne sat. He was a handsome man, appearing to be no more than a normal human in his mid-thirties. His features were smooth, but not to the point of lack of work. It was as if he was born into power, but chose to get his hands dirty and roughed it for his own gain. His hair was carefully cared for, though it did drape down to his shoulders in length. A subtle amount of stubble formed a respectable albeit small beard across the lower portion of his face. His body was garbed in partial formal attire: black slacks that looked like the passage of time was minimized as much as possible for them, a white long sleeved shirt, and a golden vest overtop the shirt. It looked as if her presence had disrupted his preparation for the ceremony. Emlyn leaned forward from his chair and stared in<i>to</i>Celeste in complete silence. If she strove to listen, one thing gave Emlyn away as something else: The methodical ticking of a clock coming from inside of his chest.<br/><br/>After a moment, Emlyn spoke.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“The only angels that would dare sully their senses with Earth are soldiers, the fallen, or spies,”</span>Emlyn said, more in an informative manner with the dulcet tones hiding an ever to slight bit of slyness.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“So your lie was perhaps the worst you could have used, considering your wings are on full display.”</span>Two sensory cues came in at the same time: the return of the sulphurous brimstone smell, and the beating of drums. The true devil returned, an obsidian ring and cold iron chain in his hand. Behind Celeste, the ceremony was beginning.<br/><br/>The true devil handed off the chain and stared at Celeste mouthing ‘Welcome to a new cage’ before stepping back into the shadows of the balcony. Emlyn stepped forward and the soldiers holding Celeste tensed, ensuring that the angel could barely move. The ring broke open as Emlyn crouched next to Celeste.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“Since you are either the former or the latter, I think I will keep you for a time, until you die or choose to fall,”</span>Emlyn said, slamming the ring closed to a dreaded click behind her skull as the obsidian collar locked around her neck. Emlyn nodded to the soldiers and they stepped back, bowing slightly. And then the screaming started behind Celeste as Emlyn walked back to his chair, chain connected to the collar firmly in his hand. If Celeste chose to turn around, she would see men and women, some of which her divine sight could be able to tell were innocent… or at least as innocent as a human could be, being herded towards a red-stained slab.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“Enjoy the first of many,” </span>Emlyn said.