A newspaper fluttered across the cool ground as it was blown through the vacant street. All of the surrounding buildings were crumbled down and broken. Everything in sight had been destroyed years ago and in the distance stood the skeletons of fallen skyscrapers, leaning over one another at jagged angles. A skeletal cat swiped from under the rubble at the paper as it fluttered passed. The paper swirled and dipped below the paw and the cat chased after it. Electricity crackled and the paper flashed bright white, frightening the cat away. The newspaper appeared to be drawn by some unseen force into an alley where a man waited. Even though the ground was covered in a thick layer of dust, there were no footprints leading to where he stood. His clothes were disheveled and unkempt. A beige trench coat hung like ill fitting skin on his frame. His brown hair hung down past his shoulders in knotted clumps and covered his face. The newspaper fluttered against his feet and he picked it up. His filthy hands brushed the paper flat and he began to read.

“What have you brought for me?” His voice was harsh and unnatural from long years of disuse. He continued to mutter as he scanned the paper. “Car accident . . . no witnesses.” He folded the paper and tucked it into on the voluminous pockets in his trench coat. “Thus, The Wandering Nomad lives on.” He turned and walked on into the alley until the shadows enveloped him. “Time,” he said, “to visit an old friend.” His whispered voice came from out the silence just before a deafening crack and a sudden gust of wind blew through the ruined city. The alley was left empty and untouched as though the man had never been there

* * * * *

The sun rose behind a graying sky blanketed in clouds. Rain had been threatening for the past couple of days and was only now beginning to fall in a light shower. A small group of people huddled beneath umbrellas as they watched two caskets get lowered into the muddy earth. A priest read a few passages from the Bible before he delivered a brief eulogy. The mass of black suits and dresses were offset only by the emerald green grass that sparkled from the moisture. The service ended and the crowd began to disperse to their vehicles parked down various paths. A young woman of about twenty years stood alone by the graves long after everyone else had left. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight braid that fell down to the middle of her back. Her green eyes hadn’t been dry through the entire ceremony.

She believed herself to be alone when she finally spoke. “I’ll find out why,” she said. “I promise.”

She wiped her eyes and turned to leave. She stopped immediately, however, when she saw a ragged man in a beige trench coat standing a few feet away, watching her. His long hair hung down, covering his face. Knowing that his presence was no longer secret, he walked forward and placed a single flower on the grave.

“Did you know them?” She asked.

The man let out a sigh and answered, “Briefly, and while I wasn’t very open with them, I never felt judged of them,” he chuckle, “not to mention your mother was an amazing cook.”

He turned and smiled at her, finally showing his face. His skin was sallow and his cheeks were thin and sunken. The shadow of countless scars marred his face. They both waited a few moments for the other to do something. At last, the woman spoke.

“My older sister’s buried right there,” she pointed to the neighboring headstone: Sarah Felicity Collins. “Did you know her?”

“No,” the man replied, “but I knew someone who did. Erick Stark. He spoke very highly of her. You were named for them both weren’t you, Felicity Erika Collins isn’t it?”

Felicity stepped back at hearing her name spoken with such familiarity by this otherwise stranger.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, turning back to the gravestone, “I only came to pay my respects to your parents, and to . . .” His voice trailed off and he returned to the inscription on the stone in front of him.

“Who are you?” Felicity asked.

The man only laughed and said, “That question was the only thing that kept me going since the beginning,” he paused as his fingers traced the etched designs. After a moment he looked back up at her. “And I still don’t know the answer to it.”

Felicity didn’t know if she should laugh or take him seriously.

“Any way,” he said as he stood, “I’d better go. I’m sure you have places you need to get to.”

He began to leave when Felicity called him back.

“How did you know Erick and my parents?” She asked.

He looked up at the two sculptures that stood on top of the monument; a woman kneeling down crying with a man bent over comforting her. “Erick was, for a time, something like a mentor to me. We spent some time with your parents shortly before he died. You and I actually met then, but you were fairly young.”

He obviously wanted to resume his retreat but stayed nonetheless as Felicity thought back.

“I think I remember that, but . . .”

Before she could finish, he interrupted her.

“I need to go.” He said and began to walk away in earnest.

“Seraph!” Felicity yelled out to him.

He stopped, turning his head slightly so he could just see her out of the corner of his eye.

“Please,” He stated, and the pain in his voice cut deeply into Felicity, “Don’t call me that.”

His indifference vanished and a weary, broken man remained.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The man nodded and began to walk again.

“Wait,” Felicity called to him again, “Weren’t you also called Nomad, or something?”

The man turned to face her with such speed she couldn’t believe it. Just as his indifference had faded moments before, anger welled up in his face and overcame the weariness. He advanced on her so quickly that he became a blur and she fell back against the headstone. But even as she pressed herself back into the stone to avoid looking at the man, she knew his anger was not directed at her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and crackled as if they were charged with static electricity.

“Erick told you that I was a better person as Nomad than as Seraph…he was right.” He exhaled and brushed his hair away from his face, exposing even more scars. “I need to go. Sorry about your parents.” He said and turned once more to leave.

Felicity watched him go. The Nomad she had known all those years ago had been so powerful, but now he looked half starved. Neither Erick nor Seraph ever had much in the way of a permanent home. He was at the gates of the cemetery when she made up her mind.

“Where are you staying?” Felicity called to him.

He spun full circle without stopping in his progression out of the graveyard and threw his hands in the air.

“The same place I’ve always been!” He said.

Felicity ran after him and caught him by the arm before he could get away from her. “At least tell me what happened.” He gave her a puzzled look. “With Erick I mean. We never heard from him again after you vanished, and you just said he had died. We always figured something had happened to the two of you when Purge was destroyed but…”

He removed his arm from Felicity’s grasp and rearranged his coat.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” he said, “I didn’t mean for anyone to see me, now please excuse me.” He spoke with extreme rigidity.

Again he tried to leave, and again Felicity held him back.

“If you really didn’t want to be seen you could have managed it. I haven’t forgotten what you and Erick could do.”

He grew frustrated with her as she continued to press him for answers.

“Look,” she said, thinking up a compromise, “Can we talk about this over lunch?” She had guessed rightly that his meals were far and few between and he consented.

Felicity called a cab and they got dropped off at a park where Felicity bought a couple sandwiches from a street vendor. They weren’t the best sandwiches in the world with their wilted lettuce and discolored meat, but both were too hungry to care; him for food and her for information.

“So,” Felicity began once they found a picnic table. “What do I call you?”

He rummaged through the bag and pretended not to have heard. When he looked back up and saw her expectant face he relented.

“Seraph will be fine.” He said and then added, “What was left of Nomad died with Erick.”

“And how did that happen?” She directed Seraph back to her main point.

Seraph took a bite of his sandwich. Felicity waited patiently while he swallowed and then prompted him to answer. Seraph shut his eyes and hung his head.

“He died.”

Felicity glared as Seraph took another bite before giving her a weak smile.

“You only asked what happened to him.” He told her. “And I answered.”

Felicity pursed her lips.

“Fine,” She replied, “How did Erick die?”

Seraph knew that question was coming. He leaned back in his seat, debating how he should answer. Felicity grabbed the rest of Seraph’s sandwich out of his hands and stuffed it back into the bag.

“He was there,” Seraph said, not taking his eye’s off the bag, “in Purge the day it was destroyed.”

Felicity eyed him suspiciously and let Seraph take back his sandwich.

“You’re going to the university, aren’t you?” Seraph asked, his attitude brightening.

“Yes,” she said caught off guard. “I’m training to be a nurse.”

A few moments passed before either of them spoke again.

“It wasn’t a storm that destroyed Purge City, was it?” Felicity asked, and fidgeted with her purse.

“Not exactly,” Seraph corrected her. “It wasn’t a normal storm that destroyed the city.”

Seraph resumed eating his food while Felicity grew more anxious.

“What did you do?” Felicity asked him once he had finished.

Seraph looked away before answering, “I did things that day…you couldn’t even imagine.” He rubbed his face and stood up. “Thank you for the food.” He said.

Felicity reached out and pulled Seraph back into his seat. “What did you do, Seraph?”

Seraph’s trench coat slipped off his back as Felicity pulled and he got entangled. Seraph fell forward and hit his forehead on the edge of the table on his way down to the ground. Felicity dropped down beside him and helped him back up. Seraph’s forehead bled where the table had hit him and he was a bit dazed. Felicity helped him back onto the bench and called another cab while she dabbed at his forehead with a spare tissue she had in her pocket.

“Can’t you just heal?” She asked him. “I know both you and Erick used to do it all the time when you got hurt.” Seraph glanced over at her and was on the verge of responding when the cab pulled up. He shook his head when she attempted to continue their conversation and then led her to the cab.

“Go home.” He told her as he opened the door. “I’ll be fine.” He reassured her when she looked like she would protest.

Felicity knew he was in no state to be left alone, and the more she thought about it, she didn’t want to be left alone either. “I called the cab for you, Seraph. Now get in.”

His face turned even paler, if that were possible.

“You know I don’t have any money,” Seraph said.

Felicity waved her hand for silence. “I’ll take care of it. I’m going to get you cleaned up, now come on.” She took hold of his sides and, gently, pushed him in.

She gave the driver directions to her apartment and then turned her attention back on Seraph, who was slowly massaging his forehead.

“Come on, let me see.” Felicity instructed, pulling his hands away so that she could get a better look. The skin was still red, but the cut had disappeared. “I knew it!” She said with a smile.

Seraph gave her a wry look before closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat, looking ill.

“Are you alright?” Felicity asked.

Seraph looked over at her and nodded before closing his eyes again and going back to his resting. Felicity waited until they had arrived at her apartment before asking for more information from Seraph.

The yellow brick of Felicity’s apartment building stood out against the steel and glass skyscrapers that made up the rest of the city block. Rats and rusty stairs squeaked as Felicity led Seraph up to her apartment. Most of the hallway lights still worked and the lack of graffiti surprised Seraph. But, as he looked closer he noticed the many blocks of touch up paint where the graffiti had been covered. Felicity stopped at her door and unlocked it. Stacks of boxes and books covered the fading green carpet. The few pieces of furniture in the apartment were also covered in boxes. A quick glance revealed they were her parents belongings. Felicity cleared off a chair and sat Seraph down.

“What was going on back there?” She asked him as she got some wet rags to clean the dried blood off his face.

Seraph still looked. “I can do it myself.” He told her, and took the cloth.

Felicity stepped back and then went to the sink to clean her hands.

“Why did you bring me here?” Seraph asked.

Felicity looked up from the sink but didn’t speak. Instead she took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Seraph.

Dearest Felicity,

If you are reading this, your mother and I are now dead. Also, you must know that our death has not been by accident. For the past several years your mother and I have been working to expose and put an end to those who tried for so many years to capture Erick Stark. This organization is known only as The People. Erick had been working with us up until the time that he disappeared, after which we were forced to stop working. It wasn’t until the past few years that we were able to resume. However, without Erick’s aid, we were found out. Your mother and I both knew that they would try to stop us from exposing them.

For a while we thought that they had all been caught in the destruction of Purge City. Though, after a couple years we found evidence of them once again. Apparently, some had survived and were beginning to rebuild. Now that we are gone, you must find the man known as Nomad. He was with Erick the last time he visited, if you remember. Your mother and I have always assumed that it was Nomad who destroyed Purge City, but other than that we have no other help for you in finding him.

Please, don’t allow The People to continue. Find Nomad and stop this terrible work. We love you Felicity, and pray you can be successful in this. Though, and this is most important, we do not wish for you to become more involved in this than you have to. All that we ask is that you seek out Nomad and convince him to finish what he began ten years ago in Purge. Again, Felicity, your mother and I love you deeply, and we apologize for keeping this secret form you. We never wanted to put you in any more danger than we had to.

With Love, your parents.

Felicity stood motionless as Seraph finished reading the letter and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. She stared, imploring him. Seraph knew his answer would destroy her. He stood up from the couch he had been sitting on and walked a short ways away, keeping his back to her.

“You remember how I once showed you my wings?” He asked as he began taking off his coat.

Felicity said that she did, not truly wanting to know what Seraph was about to show her.

“This is what’s left of them.”

The trench coat slid to the floor revealing six ethereal wings, all withered and broken.

“Oh my.” Felicity breathed as the feeble wings flowed back and forth.

They appeared to be nothing more than wisps of tissue paper, soaked and torn apart. In many places large chunks had been ripped off. The last time Felicity had seen his wings he had had only four, yet then they had been powerful.

Felicity stepped forward and felt what was left of his once magnificent wings. They were warm, and smooth, except for around the places where they were damaged. In those areas they turned cold and were coarse and rough like unpolished stone. Seraph moved his wings around, allowing her to see them more clearly. The first pair, which was an electric blue color, was almost transparent and most of the right wing was missing. The second set, which was black, was only semi translucent and didn’t have quite as much missing as the previous pair. The third pair was white and very solid looking. However, both wings were riddled with holes and a long tear went almost the entire way up his left wing. As Felicity continued to look at them she noticed that one of the holes was bleeding a milky white substance.

“What happened there?” Felicity asked, gesturing to the bleeding hole.

Seraph brought the wing around so that he could see it better.

“That,” he said, “is from when I healed my forehead.”

Felicity stepped back. “What?” She asked, looking at all of the other holes and lesions covering his wings. “What happened to you? I remember you being so strong, but . . .” She trailed off as she noticed several scars running down his neck.

“I can use my abilities just like I used to.” Seraph explained. “Only, now once I’ve used up my energy, that’s it and I’ll die.”

Felicity tried to sit Seraph down onto the couch again to examining the scars on his face much closer. Seraph pulled away and put his coat back on to ensure his wings wouldn’t become visible and Felicity walked back to the sink to get herself a drink.

“I’m stronger when I’m in Purge City.” Seraph told her, trying to change the subject. “I spend most of my time there.”

“But there’s nothing there.” She said. “They never rebuilt Purge.”

Seraph nodded. “I know,” he responded, “I made sure of that.” Seraph stretched, making all of his scars even more visible.

“Where did you get all of these scars?” Felicity asked.

She needed Seraph to agree to help her, if not for her than for her parents and their dying wish. Seraph knew his appearance warranted her response, but was reluctant to reply. He sat down again.

“What happened?” She asked.

“You remember the last time I visited your family?” Seraph asked, “The night before Purge was destroyed and Erick died?” Felicity nodded, taking a seat facing him. “After I left, I went to Purge and,”

Felicity interrupted him, “But you only had four wings then. I remember you showing them to me.”

Seraph nodded. “Yes.” He answered, “I did only have four then, I regained my third pair shortly after I Erick died, and just before I did this to myself.” He gestured towards the scars on his face and then to his arms.

“What?” Felicity was shocked. “You did this? Why?”

Seraph stared at the floor as though it had become the most interesting thing in the room.

“I wanted to die,” Seraph said, “after I destroyed Purge and realized what I’d become. Then Erick showed up.” Seraph drew in several short breaths before ending. “He was the closest thing to a father I ever had and…”

“Seraph…” Felicity began but trailed off when Seraph looked back up and met her gaze.

“I killed Erick,” Seraph admitted.

“What?” Felicity gasped.

Whatever she had supposed of how Erick had died, how the city had been destroyed and what Seraph’s connection was to it all, this was not it. She tried to find something, anything, to say, but all she could think about was the fact that the man before her was a murderer.

“I never meant for it to happen,” Seraph went on even as Felicity backed away from him in disgust.

Seraph fell silent when Felicity reached the door.

“You can leave now.” She told him and opened the door, motioning for him to go.

Seraph stood, knowing he deserved her treatment. Seraph stopped mid step before Felicity could shut him out and turned back to face her. Felicity saw the yearning in Seraph’s face, the relief to have someone to talk to. Unable to use his powers as he once did, Seraph had lived alone for the past ten years. He wandered from city to city, much as he had done when he was younger, though now without the solace of being able to hide himself from others and take shelter when needed. Seraph came out of his silent plea. Felicity’s face was darkened and her arms were folded in front of her. Felicity’s green eyes met Seraph’s black gaze and he found no forgiveness.

Seraph’s black iris’ always intrigued Felicity and she allowed herself a brief moment to wonder whether it was yet another clue to Seraph’s past. But for the time being she would have to wonder.

“I am sorry about your parents,” Seraph said in defeat and walked out the door.

Felicity watched as Seraph walked out, then she shut the door silently behind him. She walked over to where the letter from her parents lay. She picked it up and then walked into her bedroom. She pulled a small box out from her nightstand drawer. Taped onto the lid was a small piece of paper with ‘To Felicity’ scrawled on it in her father’s handwriting. The box had been given to her when the Will was read. Inside were some other small items: a necklace, and some pictures of Sarah, her mother and father, and Erick.

The necklace was Felicity’s favorite out of all of the items because it had once belonged to her sister, Sarah, and had been kept by Erick for several years. It was a fairly simple necklace; a silver chain with an angel pendant. At the angels feet was a small banner with ‘Sarah’ inscribed onto it. Erick had returned it to her parents the day before he was killed. Erick had been like a brother to her. Both of her parents loved it when he visited, and he would tell her stories of when he and Sarah were together, though he left out the fact about his powers. The memories of Erick and her family being together were too much for Felicity and she collapsed onto her bed and wept.