Do Autorà glage Better Than Seth Godin

This is the first thing I've written in a long while. As always, any and all comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Please let me know what you think!

Limbo. A blasted, war-torn hellscape. Any buildings that might have stood there had long since collapsed, shattered by the ravages of a war as ancient as the universe itself. A layer of ash covered everything, raining from black clouds hanging low in the sky. The few crimson shafts of sunlight that managed to pierce the thick layer of volcanic dust scattered before they could touch the ground, burying the entire plain in perpetual twilight. The ash fell swift and silent, muting any sound that might come from the desolation.
There, Lailah was fighting for her life. She fell from the sky, plummeting toward a distant spot in the remains of planet Earth. Humanity had died eons ago, leaving an empty world behind, a dry husk. But the gods they’d worshipped, their servants, and their enemies, were immortal. Which included Lailah, even if she didn’t particularly feel immortal at that moment.
The angel slammed into the ground, wincing at the popping in her wing joints. She shook her head, dazed. Her helmet rang around her ears, the metal vibrating like a gong. Stunned and disoriented, she barely had time to roll out of the way before her enemy’s sword stabbed into the ground, inches from her skull.
The ash swirled around her as she rolled to her feet and flared her wings, staining her feathers with gray powder. The layer of hard, volcanic rock beneath the ash gleamed in the dim light. In front of her, Lailah’s opponent's sword was embedded in the ground. Its wielder tugged at the blade, struggling to free it before she regained her balance. Her eyes widened.
An imp. An imp almost killed me. She advanced on it, hefting her axe. The imp abandoned its efforts, backpedaling. Lailah caught a flash of terror on its face before it tripped, rolling end over end. All bony legs, leathery wings, and teeth. What a pathetic way to get taken out. The seraphim would never let me hear the end of it. The imp struggled to its feet and raised its arms as she advanced. Her eyes glowed behind the slits in her helm. With a heave, she lifted her axe and brought it down. The white metal flashed as it cut through bone, gold energy humming through the blade. The two halves of the imp fell with a wet splat.
With a grunt, Lailah jerked her weapon out of the rock, watching the imp’s corpse dissolve into acid, then steam. Her eyes followed the last wisps of gas as they slipped into the ground, tunneling through the cracks. Straight back to Hell.
“Stay dead for a while, this time,” she snarled. “Otherwise I’ll kill you again. A lot more painfully.” With that, she launched herself into the sky, wings pounding the air. Another imp dove at her as she climbed, but misaimed. The last thing it saw was the back of her armored fist, smashing its face into a pulp. The imp’s body spiraled to the ground, skull crushed and flattened.
Lailah surged higher, aiming for the flashes of gold in the cloud of ash. She could hear Pilion's faint battle cries over the sound of her own wingbeats and imps screaming in agony. As she approached (slicing through any imp foolish enough to flitter into her path) she could hear the clashing of metal on metal, low grunts of pain, and steel slicing through flesh. The sounds of battle. Lailah gritted her teeth and hurtled forward, squinting through the thickening ash. When she broke through the cloud layer, she gasped.
Pilion was almost as good as she was, but he was being overwhelmed. Dozens of imps were swarming him from all directions, waving crude weapons carved out of something white. Lailah seized a straggler by the throat, broke its neck, and snatched its cudgel before tossing it away.
Behind her helm, her jaw dropped. The material was off-white and stiff–almost brittle. She flexed the handle, applying more pressure until it snapped, scattering white shards against her helm. The inside was porous and yellowy, and rotted into a gossamer honeycomb of solid material. Human bone. The angel snarled and hurled the razor-sharp fragment at an approaching imp. It fell, clutching at the makeshift dagger embedded in its chest, and Lailah was gone.
“I’m coming, Pilion!” she screamed, corkscrewing through the crowd of imps with her axe extended. Acid spurted around her, forming a lime green mist as she hurtled closer to her comrade-in-arms. By the time she reached him, he was in terrible shape.
His helm had been dented, one of the wings decorating the sides of his helm torn away by a grasping claw. The deep gash continued all the way around his head, down his neck, and over his shoulder. The cutter was still hanging on, its claw embedded in the knotted muscle of Pilion’s shoulder. He spiraled, bellowing in pain and slapping at the demon, struggling to dislodge it. Then Lailah streaked toward them and decapitated it.
The imp dissolved into goo. Pilion rolled his shoulder, grimacing, then grinned at her. He drew his short swords and twirled them in his fingers, ivory blades flashing in the crimson sunlight. Before the angels could speak, the swarm of imps dove on them. They hacked and slashed, parried and blocked, dove and climbed. The demons never stopped coming, an implacable tide of maroon and black. But their numbers were dwindling.
Lailah’s axe flashed through the last imp. It screeched, body disintegrating. Acid-green rain fell to the ground below. She grinned. She was coated in sweat and acidic blood. Her armor had more scratches and dings than she could count. There were a few trickles of blood running through the chinks in her armor, where the imps’ tiny claws had managed to poke through. But as she hovered next to Pilion, she was grinning. Her face was flushed, her eyes were wild. Her heart pounded like a bass drum in her ears. She was having the time of her life.
Pilion hovered next to her, beating the air with smooth, hard flaps of his snow-white wings. With a sigh, he sheathed his swords and slid his helmet off. Despite the exhaustiveness of the battle they’d just fought, Lailah chuckled. His hair was plastered to his forehead at odd angles, sweat shaping it into chaotic whorls and spikes. Pilion shook his head, chuckling.
“Well.” he panted, still short of breath. “That was fun.” Lailah half-laughed in agreement, still flushed behind her helmet. “We should be heading–” His words were violently cut off with a skritch.
Lailah gasped. An enormous blade, nearly as thick as her torso, tore through Pilion’s chest, shredding him and his armor open, pushing clean through. Nearly two feet of blade stuck out of his chest. It was stone, mottled with countless miniscule pores. As she watched, the core of the blade glowed, and blood drained from the wound into the holes, sucking up the angel’s lifeblood. Pilion’s eyes met hers, and he opened his mouth, as if trying to speak. But instead of words, blood gurgled from his mouth and ran down his chin.
A pair of gray wings unfurled behind him. A black gauntlet seized his shoulder and pushed, sending Pilion’s glassy-eyed corpse spiraling down to the Earth. Both Lailah and the newcomer watched it fall, white feathers detaching and sprinkling like snow, before eyeing their opponent.
Behind her smooth, featureless helm, Lailah grimaced. Her opponent’s armor was a negative of hers–where her breastplate, greaves, and gauntlets were white, his were black. Where the edges of her plates were trimmed with gold, his were bronze. His eyes, behind the slits, were purple and dark, knotted with fury and bloodlust.
Lailah took a deep breath and flexed her wings, trying to intimidate him. It didn’t work. He matched her movements perfectly, his gray wings (feathers tipped with black) mirroring hers. She swallowed.
Shit. Nephilim. Fallen angel. Just a little more powerful than those imps. Just as powerful–if not more–than me. Satan’s first and best soldiers during the war. Well. Here goes nothing. She snarled, pulled back, and dove toward him, axe held ready. Lailah swung, then grimaced. He’d blocked, and her axe rang with the impact, rattling. Metal doesn’t do well hitting stones. She barely had time to recover before his sword was swinging towards her face.
Wincing as she blocked blow after blow, Lailah retreated. His sword slammed into the shaft of her axe, the enchanted wood warping and cracking with each strike. She twisted, and their weapons locked. They pushed close to each other, faces almost touching above their weapons. The two angels pushed, each struggling to overcome the other. They growled at one another over their locked blades.
She sucked in her breath, thinking fast. That’s a Bloodcore Sword. Absorbs energy from kills and makes the user stronger. He took Pilion out with one hit…he’s–ugh–stronger than I am right now. Lailah pushed back, gritting her teeth. Her arms were on fire, her wings desperately beat the air, struggling to counter the nephilim bearing down on her. Gotta get him away from me…
Just below her face, inches away from her chest, the demon’s sword hummed with energy, dark and malevolent, casting a blood-red glow on them both. It reflected in their armor, obscuring her vision. Lailah squinted into his dark eyes, gave one last heave, and kicked him in the chest.
Her boot clanged like a gong, slamming into the center of his breastplate. The demon groaned and crumpled, deflated, before spiraling down and away from her. She could hear the air rush from his lungs and his desperately gasps for breath, even though she was yards above him. Grinning in triumph, elated to finally have the upper hand, Lailah dove.
Her axe sizzled in the air, the intense heat from the blade making it burn bright at her shoulder. She dove, a straight, streamlined bullet, screaming a defiant battle cry. Below her, the demon was beginning his recovery. He straightened his wings and leveled out. He glided for a second, then whirled, falling face-up now, and hurled his sword.
It flew straight and true, hurtling toward her like a gigantic, oversized arrow. Lailah corkscrewed, dodging. If possible, she dove faster, ready for the kill, but her eyes widened with recognition. I know that move. But only two people can pull it off. Me, and–no, it can’t be! But deep down, she knew it was him.
They were approaching the ground now. It screamed toward them, massive and unyielding. The plane of black expanded in her vision, blocking everything except the black-and-bronze-armored demon below her. He was still falling, still facing her, when she hit him and wrapped her thighs around his waist. Before her could react or struggle, Lailah’d torn her helmet off. Her blonde hair whirled autoréglage in the wind, streaming like a wave between her wings, as she reached forward and ripped his helmet away.
Seconds before they smashed into the ground, she seized him by the front of his armor and kissed him.

Lailah laughed, face split by a wide, shining grin. “So,” she giggled, lying next to him. “What were the chances?” Beside her, Eligas grinned, still panting, armor scratched and dented from the impact.
“Well…” he mused, moving his handsome, gray-skinned face closer to hers. “Considering the sheer number of demons, imps, spirits, and monsters hanging out in Hell…I’d say slim to none.” He slid his arm around her shoulder, and his gauntlet clinked on her pauldrons. “I’m just glad you realized it was me before I impaled you.”
She laughed louder, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and flopped to the ground, taking him with her. “You impale me? You threw your weapon away!” She shook her head, taking in the size of the massive crater they were lying in. “I’m impressed we survived the fall, though. I was expecting to wake up in Heaven’s resurrection chambers a few months from now, sore as…well, Hell.” They both laughed again, and Lailah scooted closer. After a moment’s hesitation, she laid her head on his armored shoulder.
They lay and watched the sky, enjoying each other’s company, the warmth of their bodies conducted through armor, and the sheer bliss a couple finds when together. “I missed you,” Eligas whispered after a while. “But I don’t regret taking sides.”
She sighed. “I know you don’t. And neither do I. The war sucks, though. Some days…some days I think Lucifer had the right idea. Jehovah can be awful when he has a bad day.” Eligas nodded in an understanding way, but he was preoccupied with running a bare hand through her long, blonde hair. When did he take his gauntlet off? “And Michael's just as obsessive and power-tripped as ever,” she griped. “Why Jesus thought he’d be a good general is beyond me.” Eligas shook his head, harrumphing and humoring her.
He smirked. “That’s one of the reasons I left. They were too willing to micro-manage, too willing to sacrifice humans for no reason and make their followers do the same. Remember Job? Poor bastard.” He grimaced. “Of course, Lucifer had a big part in that too…”
Lailah shook her head, cuddling closer. “Yeah. And there’s the whole ‘humanity-no-longer-exists’ thing. Thanks to the war. It’s awful.” The two angels, one holy and one fallen, sighed together. Eligas drummed his fingers nervously, tapping rhythms on the back of her armor. She let him go for a few minutes before sitting up.
“What’s bothering you? No–” she said when he tried to interrupt. “Don’t give me that. You might be a bit darker than when we were married, but I still know when you’re lying to me.” She lay back down, elbowing him as she went. “You know better than to lie to me,” she teased.
He sighed. “Well, two things. Pilion, he’s gonna be okay, right?” Lailah nodded.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Same for you guys. He’ll wake up a few months later in the hospital tanks. They’ll stitch his soul back together, he’ll have some terrible chest pains for a few months, then they’ll stick him back on the front lines. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.” She waved her hand noncommittally. “Second question?”
To her surprise, he actually blushed, dark spots appearing on his already shadowy cheeks. “Well…I was going to ask if you wanted to defect. I missed you. A lot. And I thought that maybe, we could live in Hell together?” Seeing her less-than-thrilled expression, he went on hurriedly. “It’s not nearly as bad as you think it is. Exact replica of Heaven, actually. I live in a copy of our old house, with the–” she laid a finger across his lips.
“Sssh,” Lailah whispered, blue eyes piercing him. He shushed. “I can’t defect. I just can’t. It’s not…me. You know that.” He nodded, closing his eyes. “I can’t work for Lucifer. Jehovah’s not much better, granted, but they’ve both done some awful things.” Eligas nodded again, clearly disappointed.

The full story can be found here. Please tell me what you think!

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