by Erin Snihur
I smile at Bea and nod toward where the crowd is facing, “I need to help Darius. Make sure no one gets hurt and that the people stay back.”
Pushing my way through the already parting crowd, I nod to many. As I enter the circular clearing, I stare in shock at the sight before me.
Darius is kneeling with what looks like holy chains wrapped around his arms, tying them to his chest. His beautiful wings are pinned back, by what I’m not sure. Ten angelic soldiers all stand around, wings extended as they try to keep the crowd back. Two of the ten guard Darius.
I can feel the anger bubbling within, but I tamper it down as my fingers tingle around the Flaming Sword’s hilt.
Whispering, mostly to myself, I can feel the swords power begin to take over, “Ignis.”
The flames burst from the hilt and circle around blade in unison. The chaotic crowd of souls immediately back away and the angelic soldiers tense at the sight of me. The two guarding Darius take a step closer to him. Darius stares at me, his face contorted in pain.
Those chains are designed to hurt angels, a voice whispers in the back of my head.
“Hello,” I croon and grin at them, “Looking for me?”
30
Elara
None of the angels before me answer for a few short seconds before one comes forward, in one hand are holy chains and in the other is an angelic blade. His hands are shaking causing the chains to rattle and his sword to waver.
“Elara Greer?” he asks as his eyes take in the Flaming Sword rippling with flaming power.
I roll my eyes, “Yes. What do you want?”
The soldier takes another step forward, two soldiers flanking him from behind. “You are under arrest and must be brought before the Archangels for sentencing.”
Shouts of protest from the crowds behind us have the soldiers that are keeping the crowds back nervous as they shift their eyes to the others.
“On what charges?” I ask as I keep my stance loose and relaxed, appearing uninterested in their words. Inside, my anger is raging.
The man seems startled that I asked and trades glances with his fellow soldiers before turning back to me. I raise an eyebrow in question as he stammers out a response, all the while sheathing his blade and pulling a scroll from his bag tied around his waist. His hands are shaking as he pulls open the scroll and begins to read for all to hear.
Inwardly, I surmise he’s no soldier like the others, merely a messenger. He’ll be easy to deal with, unlike the others.
“Elara Greer, you are hereby charged in connection with the destruction and demonic war plagued upon the Almighty’s realm, the InBetween, you are also charged with the unlawful use of the Almighty’s blessed object, the Flaming Sword, and for the circumstances of your birth. All of which is punishable by death.” The man stutters on the last line as his eyes level with mine and I can see the fear leaching through them.
I don’t get a chance to respond as the crowd behind me breaks out in chaotic shouts of protest. As I turn to demand silence, a random soul begins to throw rocks and other objects at the soldiers. In all the chaos, people are getting hurt.
In a fit of fury, I feel my powers rush forward through to my foot. I stomp with all my might onto the soft ground.
The resounding force of my foot causes the ground to quake and people around us to scream. The crowds back away and the many soldiers that are attempting to keep the peace fly a few feet off the ground before settling down as the ground settles. All eyes are on me. The Flaming Sword’s flames lick at my fingertips which are still firmly planted on the hilt.
“Stop this now. Return to your homes,” I command the crowd as they all stare at me in shock.
A soul I don’t recognize steps forward. In his hands is a wooden club and he swings it high into the air as he cries, “We will fight for you, just as you fought for us.”
All around us, the crowd cries out in agreement and I turn to the soldier who I believe to be the messenger, “I suggest you get us out of here now, before they pluck your wings from your back feather by feather.”
My threat seems to wring some truth as rocks and other hard objects are once again being thrown. In all the chaos, I march toward Darius and with a swipe of the Flaming Sword, his chains fall to the ground, broken apart in seconds. I quickly unbind his wings and help him to stand. The other soldiers don’t stop me as I help him and instead grow fearful at the sight of the broken chains.
I stare into Darius’ eyes and see the love that I feel for him there. He grins and whispers above the chaos, “Remember, they can try and they will fail.”
I grin and nod back. Taking his hand and shooting a glare toward the angel with the scroll, I growl in his direction “Let's go then. No need to keep the Archangels waiting.”
At my words, the soldiers quickly gather the broken chains and encircle us as we are led towards the Pearly Gates. At the sight of our movement and the direction, the crowd becomes even further chaotic as they try to push the soldiers down.
A few soldiers quickly form a line to keep the crowds back as the remainder escort us through the Pearly Gates. I only glance over my shoulder for a second to see the crowd overwhelming a few of the soldiers and quickly glance away, trying to block out the cries and screams for justice. The warmth of the Pearly Gates greets us and I slowly feel the Flaming Sword’s power evaporate into my skin as the warm tendrils of white light pulls us in.
To where? I have no idea.
The guards don’t let us stop and admire the beauty of the world we’ve stepped into for very long. In fact, as soon as we step into the beautiful realm, Darius is asked to hand over his sword. When I’m asked the same, I snort and shake my head at their idiocy.
“I only just got it back from some evil demon infected soul. Do you think I’m that stupid?” I ask the soldier whose eyes widen at my words as he turns to the angel, I’d presumed to be the messenger. Perhaps he was their commander.
At the commander’s nod, I watch as the soldier backs away with Darius’ sword. I slowly sheath mine and we are escorted along a dirt path. On either side of the dirt path are sprawling green grass fields. Horses abound everywhere. There are no fences, though, in the distance I can faintly make out a barn like structure. Before us, like Darius’ castle in the InBetween, sits a castle built into a rocky mountain. I can see the white, flapping wings of angels flying above the castle and grow apprehensive. More soldiers, perhaps?
The walk towards the castle is long, but not difficult. There is so much to see. Waterfalls abound out of holes in the mountain that fall down into small streams and great lakes. Everything is beautiful and calming. This place is loved.
The castle itself reminds me of a Grecian palace I’d seen images of in old history textbooks. Ivy blooms and vines spread all over the pale, brick walls. The ivy vines climb to the top in an effort to catch the sunlight. They are spread out everywhere.
Turning to Darius who has taken back my hand upon entering this other realm, I ask, “What is this place?”
“It is the Archangels’ realm and home. Only the highest of the high in our world reside here,” Darius mutters as his dark eyes scan everything and everyone, as if expecting a surprise attack.
The gates to the palace open slowly and to my surprise, Gideon is standing behind them, grinning at us. Dina and Ezekiel stand on either side of him. Pascal is nowhere to be seen. My heart leaps out of my chest at the others’ smiling faces and I instantly recognize the look of relief that falls over Dina at the sight of me. I imagine the last time we saw each other wasn’t pretty if Darius’ words from last night are to be believed.
Gideon steps forward and pats the lead soldier on the shoulder. “We’ll take it from here, Adrian.”
Adrian, the commanding angel’s mouth opens in shock as he begins to protest, “My orders…”
Gideon shrugs and looks toward Ezekiel, “Hey! Don’t tell me about orders, man, I get it. We just thought it might be better for us to escort them to the Archangels
, especially when they find out about the little riot you and your men here caused in the afterlife.”
Adrian freezes and visibly swallows, “You already heard about the rioting?”
Gideon shrugs again as he pats the man on the shoulder, “Maybe you should handle that situation first and we can take these prisoners off your hands.”
Adrian thinks about it for a moment before nodding and orders his men to follow him back to the afterlife. Darius and I both wait until they are gone to grin at Gideon, who bursts out laughing and points in my direction.
“What’s with your eyes? As soon as I saw them, I thought I was going to lose it," Gideon bowls over laughing as he clutches his stomach.
Dina rolls her eyes at his behavior and swoops in for a hug from both me and Darius.
“I’m so glad you guys are okay,” she says as she looks us over, her eyes too drift to my eyes, “You are okay, right?”
I nod and smile at Dina who, like the others, can’t seem to look away from my eyes. “Yes, though we aren’t sure why my eyes are like this. Darius doesn’t think it's anything bad, maybe just my powers going into overdrive or a side effect of the possession.”
Glancing around, I turn to Ezekiel whose face is set seriously as he stares back at me. Uncomfortable with the silence, I ask, “Where is Pascal?”
“He is with the Archangels giving his testimony,” Ezekiel says and briefly glances up at the flying angels high in the blue sky, “We should go in. They don't like to be kept waiting.”
As we enter the palace and travel through winding staircases and hallways with large windows overlooking the palace below or breathtaking gardens, I mutter under my breath to Darius, “This place is familiar.”
“We brought you here and begged the Archangels to open the gates,” Darius murmurs back and I nod, recalling what he had told me last night.
“Will I meet him, as well?” I ask and notice the others tensing at my question.
Dina answers for me, “I believe Michael still maintains his place with the others. Though I am unsure how long this will last.”
I nod as I recall Lucifer’s story of what had happened to the last child of an Archangel born centuries ago. I shake my head and stand straight with my head held high. Darius squeezes my hand and I smile up at him, thankful he is here to give me strength.
They can try and they will fail, I whisper in my head over and over again until we come to a set of tall oak doors. The doors are beautifully carved with runes all over the panels of wood. As I marvel over their beauty, the doors open of their own accord and we slowly enter. This room is muted in soft colors and on a slightly raised dais sit seven comfy looking throne-like chairs with high backs. All seven are filled with them. The Archangels.
I stare wide-eyed at all of them. Even though I’d met them all before during Ambriel’s possession, this is different. I am more aware of the power wafting off of them in ripples. Behind the only calm looking Archangel out of the seven stands Pascal, his eyes downward and his lips moving with no words coming forth. My heart clenches at the thought of what they’ve done to him. My friend.
Seated in the center chair is a man whose glare could kill a man in an instant. I stare back at him and feel the familiar wave of power. He is so familiar and, in my mind, I try to recall him, but I can’t bring the memory forward.
In an instant I meet his blue eyes and as if I’m watching a movie, I find myself tumbling through the memories of a man standing over my crib. From the faint glow of the moon, I can tell it is nighttime. I am an infant, crying because I’ve dropped my pacifier. The man with blue eyes picks it up and places it back into my mouth. I watch as my eyes are drooping closed. When I open them again, the vision is gone and I’m once again standing before the Archangels, their eyes all leveled on me.
Darius is looking at me with a question in his eyes as I step forward, my hand sliding from his. I look the blue-eyed man in the eye and speak, my voice echoing around the bright room.
“I remember you,” I say, my voice sounding so unlike anything I’d ever heard before. I sound out of breath and airy all at the same time. Coupled with the fact that I can practically feel my heart beating out of my chest and my palms itching to place a hand on the Flaming Sword. I keep calm and keep my hands at my sides as I continue, “You soothed me as a baby and kept me from crying at night. You visited me many times as a child.”
This man, Michael, the one they call ‘he who is like the Almighty’, clenches his fists around the arms of his chair. I glance toward the others, two women sit on either side of Michael and the remaining men all stare at me, a few in awe and others with the glares I know all too well.
The woman on Michael’s left stands. She is beautiful in her long, Grecian dress, coupled with her pale hair and skin, she looks very much like a fairy from books I’d read as a child. What startles me the most is her white eyes, though unlike me she has the black pupil that moves and shifts under the light.
“Welcome to our home, Elara Greer. I trust your journey was a safe one,” the beautiful woman speaks softly, her voice lyrical as she turns a soft smile on her brothers and sisters before her white eyes drop to me, “I am Jophiel.”
I nod in her direction, but don’t speak. This irks her, I can tell by the way one of her eye’s twitches slightly. Before she can continue, the woman on Michael’s right stands, anger filling her voice. She is the exact opposite to Jophiel in appearance, though not in power from what I can sense. Her dark eyes squint as they assess me and the sneer that fills her face is enough to prove to me that she feels I am worse than dirt on her shoe.
“What has become of Ambriel?” She asks, though her question isn’t directed at me. It is directed at Darius whom she levels with a glare.
“Dead. When she attempted to use the sword, she did not take into account the sword having a mind of its own. The sword, realizing an enemy inhabited my body, destroyed her. The sword is powerful and thinks for itself when it chooses a wielder. I am merely its host,” I answer for Darius and the woman’s glare turns back to me as she collapses back into her chair at hearing my news.
“And the InBetween?” Jophiel asks as she glances toward her clearly upset sister whose eyes are now covered by her hand as she visibly shakes. I sense grief wafting off this woman and my heart goes out for her. Darius had told me about her. Ariel, practically a mother to Ambriel.
Darius answers then, stepping forward as he nods in respect to Jophiel and the others, “Completely destroyed. I believe with the destruction of the curse, demon infected soul, Renna, and the use of the Flaming Sword caused the InBetween to self-destruct. We opened the gates to the afterlife in just enough time before it was all completely destroyed.”
The man sitting in his chair next to Jophiel grins evilly as he stares down at us, his posture tensed, “So you admit you destroyed the Almighty’s holy realm.”
“The InBetween destroyed itself. Too much evil should not be allowed to fester,” I answer and glare back at the man as I attempt to sense anything about him. All I receive back is hate and a feeling of cool displeasure.
A whispering voice in the back of my head rings true, Azrael. Stay away from him.
Azrael glares back at me, obviously unhappy with my answer and slowly stands, “You shouldn’t even be standing before us so defiantly, half-breed. You should be on your knees begging for your life.”
I cock my head to the side and without realizing it, place my hand on the hilt of the Flaming Sword, caressing the smooth runes etched into the hilt. This gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they all visibly tense.
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes as I sarcastically answer, “I never was good at begging.”
31
Elara
Azrael snarls and the Archangel who Pascal has remained standing closest to jumps into action, his smile sending a calming mood over the room. “Calm yourself, Azrael.”
“Don’t tell me to be calm, Raphael, unless you want to lose an a
rm for a few hours,” Azrael snarls as he sits back in his chair, his glare shifting between me and Raphael, who now smiles down upon me.
“We have seen much, but we have also seen very little through Pascal’s visions. It seems that like us, he is unable to see visions through your point of view, Elara, or do you prefer hero of the InBetween as your followers call you?” Raphael muses with his cheerful voice.
Ariel snorts in disgust and sits up in her chair, her eyes full of pain, “This is not one of your jokes, Raphael. This is serious.”
Raphael nods and smiles toward his sister. “Of course, sister. I am merely suggesting that Elara allow us to examine her mind so that we might see for ourselves what has occurred from her perspective.”
“No,” Darius snarls and moves to step before me, “Pascal is barely able to undergo the stress of such process, yet you ask it of him anyway.”
Azrael chuckles deeply from across the room, “Yet your beloved hero is of the belief that she is powerful. Surely the self-proclaimed hero of the InBetween can withstand some mental probing.”
His comments are meant to taunt me, but I refuse to take the bait and instead step around Darius and turn my gaze on Michael. “You may do it.”
Michael’s eyes widen as he slowly stands and walks off the dais. Unlike Jophiel who seems to prefer the Grecian style of clothing, Michael is dressed in light pants and a light, long-sleeved shirt. He appears almost normal, maybe even human. His eyes give him away. They hold too much power and knowledge. As he approaches, Darius clutches my hand, gaining my attention.
“You don’t have to do this. You have done nothing wrong,” he whispers to me, though all can hear. In the distance, I faintly hear Azrael snort at his comment.
I smile up at Darius and squeeze his hand before pulling it away and taking a step in Michael’s direction. I keep my other hand firmly on the hilt of the Flaming Sword as he extends his hand in my direction, palm up. Using my free hand, I stare into his eyes and I slowly place my palm in his.
