[Their story starts in war, it sounds like. Or, if half-not-humans weren't as capable of defending themselves, genocide. Killing mana is a concept Skulduggery can't wrap his head around, but only because he still doesn't know what mana is. Killing magical energy, somehow dooming an entire planet? Unless Kratos is talking about running out of a finite resource. Then it makes sense. Aselia wasn't doomed; the people living there were.
But if Mithos had already helped Martel surpass death, why continue the carnage? Like you, Kratos said, not a skeleton. Not dead, but not alive, either. Somewhere in between. A coma, maybe. Though if she's also an angel, the truth might be more complicated than simple language can express.
It does, however, take a very long time for someone who wasn't a monster already to turn into one. It took Skulduggery nearly a century, and angels might well be truly immortal.]
Did the book tell you anything about --?
[Before he can finish, one of the feathered angels approaches them. A reverential nod at Kratos, a paper note pressed into Skulduggery's hand, and then she's gone again. The note says, in plain English:
Skulduggery, please, hit or hug Kratos. He needs it. Yuan.
... Well, points for determination. And it's unnerving how quickly Derris-Kharlan can already translate messages.
Skulduggery puts the note in his pocket, then gives Kratos a hard tap on the shoulder. For a human, it would be just painful enough to be startling. For angels, Skulduggery has no idea.]
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But if Mithos had already helped Martel surpass death, why continue the carnage? Like you, Kratos said, not a skeleton. Not dead, but not alive, either. Somewhere in between. A coma, maybe. Though if she's also an angel, the truth might be more complicated than simple language can express.
It does, however, take a very long time for someone who wasn't a monster already to turn into one. It took Skulduggery nearly a century, and angels might well be truly immortal.]
Did the book tell you anything about --?
[Before he can finish, one of the feathered angels approaches them. A reverential nod at Kratos, a paper note pressed into Skulduggery's hand, and then she's gone again. The note says, in plain English:
... Well, points for determination. And it's unnerving how quickly Derris-Kharlan can already translate messages.
Skulduggery puts the note in his pocket, then gives Kratos a hard tap on the shoulder. For a human, it would be just painful enough to be startling. For angels, Skulduggery has no idea.]
That's from Yuan.
[Then, moving on without missing a beat:]
Did the book tell you anything about age?