The walls of light surrounding him dissipated, revealing an expansive, sweet little town on the border of the Moon Dominion.
The sun had yet to rise high, leaving the town shrouded in moonlight, with a starry night sky looming overhead.
Despite the time, many people were out and about, all wearing graceful smiles, laughing with their children or companions.
Ratella welcomed the sight, briefly forgetting his mission.
"Baron Roda Fate, a plump three-winged angel governing this very town. Public opinion of the man is high, so finding him shouldn't be a massive issue," thought Ratella, going through all the information Michael told him before teleporting him to Sceptre.
Ratella surveyed his surroundings; many market stalls littered the busy town square, filled with all sorts of treats and ornaments.
He gathered that there was some sort of event in the town, making it the worst environment for carrying out an assassination without getting distracted.
"Excuse me, Mister, your wings are really pretty. I've never seen anyone have more than three before," said a soft voice coming from below him.
A little child, looking around six summers, tugged on his garb, trying to get his attention. His parents stood at his rear, gleaming smiles plastered on their faces, apologising for their son's interruption.
"No, it's okay, thank you, little guy," exclaimed Ratella, touched by the sweet boy's kindness and bravery for approaching him.
He bent down to get into eye level with the boy, ruffling his hair slightly.
"I hope I'll have cool wings like yours someday."
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll grow up with wings prettier than mine."
The boy peered into Ratella's right eye, reaching out to try and touch it, mistaking it for an emerald gem. Ratella intercepted his hand, grasping it softly, moving it downwards.
"You shouldn't touch what you know nothing about, little guy. Go enjoy the stalls with your parents."
The boy walked off towards the many stalls, followed by his mother, apparently growing bored with Ratella.
His father did not follow his family, looking at Ratella with curiosity laced within his eyes, but there was a hint of wariness shining on despite his interest in the boy.
Ratella shook his wings before shrinking their size slightly, not to interfere with anyone walking past him but also to avoid unwanted attention.
Although this would be a hard task to accomplish, six wings being unheard of, especially in a rural town such as Sceptre.
"Six wings shouldn't be possible, but they stand in my presence. Who are you?" asked the father of the inquisitive boy, his stern features growing harder.
"I don't see why that's any of your concern. Would you point me to the best food stall in this market?"
In Ratella's head, food came first before assassination, especially delicious market food. The intoxicating smell surrounding him banished all thoughts of his mission from his head.
"Tell me what's up with your eye, and I'll point you towards the best food stall," stated the man, his questions growing tiresome and annoying, pushing his boundaries.
"I'll find it myself then," said Ratella, sighing in the man's face, beginning to walk off in search of food.
Ratella walked off towards the market, letting his keen sense of smell guide him. The man behind him didn't give chase, giving up on his questions and jogging off to find his family.
He was gathering the townsfolk's gazes, some looking curious, while others wore expressions of aversion and suspicion. Ratella figured their looks were mainly due to their unsightly eye, its emerald colouring shining in the moonlight, highlighting its uncanniness.
He covered it with one of his wings, affixed to the back of his head, leaving the other one free for sightseeing.
With a portion of his vision blocked, his hearing intensified, allowing him to hear the surrounding gossip and rumour circulating about him.
His sense of smell led him to a semi-empty stall serving skewers of some type of meat with vegetables mixed in. After a short wait, he reached the front of the line, observing the many options to pick from on the surface.
"Hello! Are you new to Sceptre?" asked the round man working at the stall, holding multiple wooden sticks in his hands.
"Yes, I just arrived here. What do you suggest?" asked Ratella, mouth practically dripping with excitement.
In Divination's Rest, he had always gotten the meals that boosted the most nutrients needed for a growing angel, usually lacking any sort of flavour.
"My rat skewers are quite the delicious treat for outsiders to Sceptre."
Ratella's face twisted with disgust and disappointment at the man's words, his face deadly serious, only worsening the feelings in his mind.
"What? Are you serious?" asked Ratella, hoping the man was just joking and had an amazing poker face.
"What's wrong with rat skewers?" asked the man, confused by Ratella's blatant disgust; his choice of meat was actually rat.
"Do you have anything more than rat meat, like lamb or beef?"
"I've got insects if you would like some of those, but I'm sorry I can't afford to stock lamb or beef right now. My rat skewers are truly delicious. You should give it a try."
Ratella's face turned downtrodden, walking off from the man, not feeling his less-than-tasteful options. He wandered to another part of the market, drifting towards a stall next to a grand stage serving a creamlike dessert.
His hunger for something delicious returned in full at the sight, his eyes sparkling with unbridled ecstasy.
He had heard tales of ice cream treats in some of the books in Zafikel's library, often taking a fantasy book to quell his boredom when reading only academic books.
The line for ice cream was long, the many wings spouting from the chain obscuring his view of the surroundings.
"Hello, good sir. What would you like today?" the woman at the stall asked, eying his six wings suspiciously.
"These don't contain any rat meat or other weird ingredients, right?"
"Of course not, the ice cream is made of cow's milk," stated the woman, chuckling slightly at the question.
"I'll take one then, thank you."
Ratella took the ice cream, licking it slowly, savouring every flavour embedded within. He walked towards the grand stage where everyone was gathered, awaiting something to happen.
After a couple of minutes, a steadfast and tall man appeared upon the stage holding some sort of device in his hand. He brought the device to his mouth and spoke into it, his voice amplified tenfold, startling Ratella.
A small group of guards followed him onto the stage, spears pointed high in the sky, pounding their bases on the stage, gathering the attention of any stray eyes.
By the time they started to speak, he had completely finished the ice cream, licking its cup clean, leaving no trace of its existence.
He stood within the crowd of many angels with varying wings covering his every flank.
"Today, citizens of Sceptre commentate on our ancestors' great triumph over the Devils who once invaded our lands," declared the man, puffing out his chest.
"Devils invaded the Moon Dominion, which makes no sense," thought Ratella, a growing worry creeping up into his mind about this town.
"I, Baron Roda Fate, ask you to raise your glasses in celebration."
The surrounding angels all raised their glasses and fists high into the air. Ratella was the only one who didn't copy Roda's gesture.
"My faithful citizens, I have some troubling news to tell you," declared Roda, his tone growing sombre, invoking wild speculation to dance through the crowd.
Ratella's worries only grew deeper at this, his subconscious screaming that something was wrong.
"There is an abomination in your mists, a devil."