His nights often ended the same way, a retreat to some unremarkable place where he would least likely be found. Sometimes it was a home he was allowed into, other times it was little more than a hole in the earth. Either way it served its purpose and kept him out of sight. Eyes could be anywhere, eyes from above and even below. More frightening were the eyes that would find him on this plane. Krux, for all his power was living in fear. Every night his thoughts would reign over his consciousness leading him back to whatever has happened. This time it was to what happened earlier that day. The dead of night could not compare to what preceded it.
 
            He stepped in once more to do what got him noticed by the humans. His intent to leave had faltered and he instead hovered around their dwellings. When he was sought out he would break away. Krux only arrived when they needed him in battle. Nobody needed to cry out for his help for he was almost like a force of nature, arriving like an answered prayer. The kind of thing that made him sick to hear from them. “A miracle,” he thought to himself, “how mistaken they are.” They came in force again, those soldiers, the ones that were like the two he met at that mass grave. They would try and he would thwart them, those foolish people with their misguided cause. His sat in his dusty space with its dirt floor, bare stone walls and small window. Tonight he was in a defunct prison cell. The rest of the edifice had been destroyed in a previous attack. Which his legs drawn to his chest and his arms binding them in place, his head resting between his knees. He looked like a sad child. He looked into his cast shadow and the darkness began to move as his eyes darted from his memory. He saw the battle lines, he saw the assault, the day wound back and the sun reappeared and he was back before the knights.
 
            The native villagers would be screaming to them to be left alone in peace and how his presence would thwart them if they did not. “You, who come to spread the word of your glorious maker, find your way home for we wish only to live off of our land and raise our families!”, the bearded man cried out. “Just look around you and see that this is not the work of a benevolent force!” he continued, but to no avail. Without a second thought they had to ready themselves, for the army of “God” had returned to reap the “wicked”. Krux knew to not leave them a single moment of opportunity. His sanguine gaze surveyed the field with speed that only his great experiences could have granted him. His plan formed quickly as they took their feet off the ground and the world grew slow before him. “The frontline infantry will be hurled back, the effect will have them falling over each other and the rear will be inhibited greatly. Move quickly and scout for archers, they brought more this time, remember to create a barrier and then debilitate them as they ready for the next volley. Move back to the front and scout again”. He was fast, but he still had to take it one step at a time.
 
            He threw out a great unseen force and the dust of the desert kicked up violently and as it hit, a mighty crash overtook the sound of men’s bloodlust. Muted for a crucial moment he dashed forward ready with his plan in mind. The rest would have been easy, but something went utterly wrong, the front line was still standing. “Alright, no real problem, just do it again.", with a thought he emitted another wave of force at the charging men and then nothing. They were being guarded by something but that could not be, they have no grasp of such power. It was beyond them, beyond any human. To Krux's dismay, time stopped as he ceased his charge and looked again. He looked again and saw something strange, a faint glow familiar to him back from home. "An aura or protection from-" and there they were above the battlefield. His hands and posture dropped and his eyes widened to show the whole of his irises. His kin, which he thought he would never see again were caring for these misguided men committing affronts against their own. They had their flowing white robes and a blade at their hip, which he found suspicious. Not dressed for battle since they were obviously there for blessings, but did they intend to attack the men below? It did not matter to him either way.

	If he knew what it meant from a human perspective, he could have said his heart sank and broke. So bittersweet that moment he did not know what to do. Well, he did but he did not relish in the thought. Now was when the aim was beyond the complexity of how to keep everyone alive and break a conflict, this would not go well. Thoughts raced "They will not stop-" the words blaring in his mind, "the know no fear-" and time ran out for plans and control. They were upon him and the line would clash into him first with their weapons ready to rend him. His instincts took him over breaking his melancholy and he struck out at the men. If he couldn't do it neatly, he would take the fray head-on.

	His strikes like lightning, he passed from one opponent to the next burying his palms and feet into them, trapping them in their own armor. Agony began to halt scores of men in a single minute, this inhuman being darting between targets creating one wounded man after another. This basic blessing was not enough to keep them safe from his touch and as they fell, the line began to dissolve. No sooner did he realize that he could not save everyone today and instead left the village to fight for itself and attack the archers he scouted at first. He leapt at the archers from the ground forces, almost taking flight and did just as he intended. The first volley neutralized with a sweep of his hand and a field of warm red light. "Get to them before they ready, just like-", and again his plan would fall apart in a moment.

	Krux's instincts still in play, he unfurled his wings of light and used them to alter his course mid-air to avoid an attack... from above. One of the angels had taken a swipe at him with a divine sword and there was no taking that without serious consequences to himself. First attempt meant ignoring his assailant so he could stop the archers, but again he was attacked by another. Dodge, then another and another, they were coming for him and they were aiming to kill him. Now, he was the one fighting for survival as the winged warriors came from every angle. One mistake would mean his downfall, for as powerful as he was made he was far from invulnerable against them. They tried to skewer him, maim him and even take his head. None but Krux saw his foes either, for any typical mortal would have only thought he was dancing gracefully in the air when in fact he was trying stay alive.

	The blades began to grace his skin, the edges meeting him just enough to demand attention to the contact. "They are going to kill me!" he thought. "Stop! Please!", he screamed as they relentlessly attacked but they were good as deaf and he was no more than a threat. The point of a heavenly blade descended upon him as he looked up. It was just about to pierce his eye, an eye which welled up with tears for what was about to happen.

	His power exploded from him and his wings shimmered with energy and life and the blade coming at him was diverted with a shock. What seemed to be like an instant was all it took for Krux to evade the lethal blow and slam fearsomely into one of his brothers. With that, the blissful state of this being of light was shattered and pain rang throughout. A voice which would sing and praise the glory of God warped into an expression of profound suffering. It would not be the last as the renegade began to now assail the angels as he did the men below. They could not catch him, they could not strike him and Krux's vicious attacks made themselves known as the collected demeanor of the angels broke into war cries and threats.

	"Face your punishment, exile!" said one that came for his heart. Krux, moved aside and wrenched the weapon with brutal force following that with an elbow to its face. "You will come back to us as a prisoner!" another one said, Krux summoned a short blade of light from his hand and with a few controlled motions destroyed its weapon and stabbed at its abdomen. Each one paying for their trespass on his well-being. They started to regroup for another assault when he remembered the archers below. They loosed another volley, but it was not too late for him to create a quick barrier for those as well. Now, he had another chance. The line would fall and they would lose their weapons and long range support. Only, the angels, even the wounded, had already begun to move in on him again. His choices becoming terribly limited very quickly. They had to be stopped... they could not be allowed to fight anymore.

	"I'm sorry." Krux said in a hush and met with another angel in combat. This time, he stunned his foe with a knee to the midsection and circled around it and under its wings. He rose in between them, grasped the base of the feathered arches, his foot planted into its back and finally a vicious pull. A hideous chorus of flesh and bone leaving each other added to the sounds of pain that permeated the air. It was happening again, this is what he did before, what had gotten him into his predicament. The angel whimpered and in utter shock went limp, letting its sword fall to the earth along with its body. Humans do not know that for an angel to lose its wings meant transmigration into mortality. It would fall, feel pain, live or die, the rest Krux would leave to fate and chance. Throwing aside the now dead wings, he faced the rest of them as they loomed in the sky. Their horror was absolute and it was quickly followed by incredible outrage. "No, please don't do this." Krux begged, but they came at him again.

	Another came close, another pair lost to his blades. Another, and now it suffered the same fate. Another one reached him and the force of a powerful blow spun it around and from there was torn from their wings. The body count was now rising for Heaven, but in the realm of the good Earth. Every one of them falling not unlike he did. They began to stop as either fear, good sense, or both began to settle in their minds. Finally they retreated and left the men below without their blessings. "The men below!", he realized. The battle had not stopped for his personal safety. His descent was swift and he met the line of archers with intent and fury. Using his will to bowl them over and a quick cut to every bow. It was over in moments, for those that did remain ran in terror. Now he bolted to the front lines, taking men down as he did and saw where the two sides clashed. The tore each skirmish apart, grabbing all the attention he could to make himself the proverbial wedge to break the situation. 

	It worked just as it had before with these "crusaders", Leaving the field to fight another day. Krux's relief was short-lived though as he surveyed the people he intended to defend. "Oh... no. I..." his thoughts trailing off. Many more lay dead now than before. The arrows hit their marks and others taken by the men with blades and maces. His attempt at defending them were an utter failure and he felt powerless once again. "I am so sorry", he said with a breaking voice to a survivor. "Do not apologize. Were it not for you, we would all be dead. We are so fortunate for your continued aid." the grateful defender proclaimed. But, the words twisted into him like a wicked dagger. It was an acrid irony for him and he wanted to disappear. He committed more heinous crimes against his own and let more of these people die. His grief began to take him and brought him to his knees.

	Darkness encircled him and before he knew it stone walls materialized around him once more, his back against one of them and the light of the moon pouring in through the single small window became his reality once more. The darkness he cast beneath his face illuminated softly by his eyes, he realized he lost himself in his mind again as he often did at night. Sleep was something that did not come naturally to him, so he would spend time in his solitude by thinking and thinking. It was something that stirred his essence more often than not and as he realized this, the glow gently faded.

	The angels were aiding men of ill-intent and ignorance. Angels. What was happening at home? Was it her? It was the only thing that made sense. Even so, this was a possibility that made him feel sick again. She was even crueler than he imagined. Cold and intent. To what end would it serve to help drive these people to kill one another, he did not know for certain but he did know that such an approach was far too small in scale for what she really wants. Humans die every day and souls come to the gates very often. What would it matter? The questions begged him for answers that were beyond him perhaps for good, but he could not dwell on those for long when it all equated to one thing. His fight on Earth would be a bloody one if he continued. He would have to commit to more unspeakable acts to do something which he found to be just. Destroy more of his own to save these people. He was now weighing lives and realized that it was far too much for him. Then, all the gratitude expressed to him came flooding back. He was a like a miracle to them, he was told.

	"A miracle... there are no more miracles.", words spoken heavy but softly in his confines. They would be the last words to escape him that night as his meandering mind took hold once again. The light of the moon fading behind a passing cloud and the warm glow of his eyes returning. It was to feel like a much longer night than usual.