The Forgotten

(Author’s note: A grateful shout-out to Nikki Crump-Hansted and The Pantheon for allowing me to write what’s basically my first piece of fan fiction. If you’re not following them on Twitter, go do it. You’ll be enriched. Trust me.)

He sat in between realms, obscured from view, and watched the Goddesses talking.

About him.

Zacharias smiled, watching Nike’s fingertips brush along the opalite wing he’d given her as a gift. She was true beauty in motion, and her smile eased the ache in his heart. He’d worried about leaving the flowers and the gift for her, but she said she loved them, and he sensed nothing but truth in her words.

He listened to her speak of Victory, and if he needed one, he need only ask. Guilt tore at him, and he cursed his inability to make his feelings clear. Being silent for two thousand years took a larger toll than he realized.

After so long trapped in darkness, he wanted for nothing except to gaze on her, to thank her for showing him beauty still existed.

“I’m not worthy.” he whispered, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. “But thank you…”

“Such beautiful ladies.” a voice said from atop his shoulder. “You should really learn to flirt.”

Zacharias reached up and plucked the tiny demon from its roost. He was tempted to throw it through to her realm, where the sunlight would destroy it. Instead, he held it up by its wings and brought it close to his face.

“This? This is the form you choose to vex me?”

The demon giggled. “Of course! You’ve heard the cliché ‘angel on one shoulder, devil on the other.’ There should be an angel ohhhhhhhh wait. Silly me, I forgot. They don’t want you.”

Zacharias grumbled under his breath and dropped the demon to the ground. “Go. Away.”

The demon flew back to his shoulder. “Which one, Zacky?”

“What?”

“Which one are you crushing on?” He peered through the door and pointed at Nike. “That one. She’s stunning. You want her? We could bring her here.”

“No!” Zacharias snapped. He leapt to his feet in a blind fury. “You stay away from her!”

“Oooooooh, the temper! Come on, you can do it. You’re too pretty for most mortals to look upon, your wings are perfect, and let’s not discount that ass—”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh, lighten up, Fallen One. I’m serious. You’ve been here a long time. I can pull some strings, get you a night with her—”

“No.” Zacharias shivered when she touched the wing again and hoped the demon didn’t notice. A connection? How?

“Why not?”

“She is incorruptible. Puro … Bellissima Dea…”

“It’s so hot when you lapse into your old tongue. But grow up. Everyone can be corrupted.”

Zacharias fought the urge to reach toward her. “She can’t.”

“Then what keeps you close to her? Are you so starved for company that the first pretty face gives you a spiritual hard-on?”

Zacharias thumped the demon off his shoulder. It landed on the ground with a tiny, “Oof!”

“Such a small form. I could kill you.”

The demon sprung to its clawed feet and shook the dirt from its wings. “But you won’t. It’s against the rules and you know it.”

He sighed. “I know.”

The demon flew up and kissed Zacharias on the cheek. “It’s cute, you know. You were always the romantic, and you choose a Goddess you can’t have.” It flew in front of his face. “Move on, Zacharias. Leave this delusion. You’ll never find a home on her side, and she won’t come here. You’re one of the Fallen. The Forgotten. Keep this up and the door between realms will be closed again. They may even take your sight.”

Zacharias stepped back. “No … I just got it back!”

“If you want to see beauty, Zacky, do it from a distance. Stay away from her. Always remember – you are Forgotten. She won’t remember your name.”

The demon vanished. Zacharias rubbed his shoulder where the demon’s claws had left tiny cuts, and looked through the door once more. Nike had hugged her aunt and turned to walk away, but she stopped. Her brow furrowed, and she wrapped a slim hand around the opalite wing. He waited, deathly still, as she looked toward the door between his realm and hers, but she didn’t see it.

“Zacharias?” she whispered.

He felt a rush of warmth through his body, all the way to the tips of his wings. His eyes, once a deep, dark brown, swam to sapphire.

“No, I’m not.” he whispered to the darkness around him. “I’m not Forgotten anymore.” He blinked back the first tears he’d cried in hundreds of years. “Ricordati di me, Bellissima Dea. Remember me, and … maybe I can get out.”