It had taken ten brutal plagues from God to win the battle against the devil who whispered into Pharaoh’s ear.
From that day forward, I remained resilient and watchful. Sammael had proven he would do unspeakable things to turn people against God. I now understood the depths of both their actions. The devil would stop at nothing to destroy the child who would prevent his release from prison halt Armageddon.
Chapter Three
That first child’s death made me rethink my task. I thought I knew what I’d gotten myself into when I raised my hand. My assignment to watch, listen, and protect was far harder than I could ever imagined. The girl’s death changed me somehow and hardened my heart. I didn’t want to do this anymore and that was what took me back to Heaven.
When I arrived in Heaven there were no other angels were around. I was thankful for the solitude. Then the hushed melody from the choir of angels soothed my mind. I hovered for a long time, soaking in the warmth and letting it feed my soul.
I was home.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Did I even want to know? Probably not. I didn’t want to be around anyone. I didn’t want to speak to any other angels. Whatever they had to say, wouldn’t change my mind, and it wouldn’t bring the girl back. I had never attempted to search for her soul. I had contemplated it many times, but always I thought better of it. I wanted her soul to remain at peace.
My lieutenants checked in with me a few times after I arrived back in Heaven, but that didn’t provide me with the amount of time that was passing on Earth. The only way I’d know was to return there. And I wasn’t about to do that.
As time passed I grew restless. The time came when I had finally mustered the courage to seek out Michael. I didn’t have to look far.
“Am I disturbing you?” a voice asked. “If you’d rather remain alone, I understand.”
I whirled to confirm who had spoken and saw no one, but knew who belonged to that voice.
“No, Michael. I would welcome any advice you can give.”
He appeared next to me, his wings invisible.
He patted my shoulder. “My first experience with evil and death still haunts me. It pained me to strike against my own brethren in the Battle of the Fallen, so I know exactly what you’re going through. I’m pleased to see you again. It’s been a while.”
“I couldn’t remain on Earth any longer. I had to leave” I hung my head low so Michael wouldn’t see my eyes. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this mission.”
“And it’s because you feel that way, I know you are. If what you saw hadn’t affected you, I’d be worried. You’re a gentle soul, Kieran, and one of the finest Guardian angels.”
“My heart can’t take feeling the human’s pain and knowing I can’t do anything about it. I’m powerless to halt the spread of evil, and unable to prevent Sammael from harming the humans.”
“While that is true, I’m only hearing negative thoughts from you. You must focus on what you can do, which is to be there for the humans. They are a resilient species. Most have good intentions and their hearts are in the right place. It’s those who flounder and become lost that we must help and steer them from the path that leads to darkness.”
I took a deep breath. “Will you tell me about the Battle of the Fallen? If it’s too painful to share . . . I’m sorry. That’s private. I should never have asked—”
“Nonsense. You can ask me anything. I am your mentor. If I don’t share my experiences, you won’t learn from my mistakes.”
Michael placed an arm around my shoulders and we started walking down a path through of clouds. “After Earth was created, most angels were happy with their existence. A few were not; they wanted more. So He created the humans. The angels who felt that they needed a different path took the responsibility to watch over the newly created man. The angels were intrigued by this species who lived such short lives, when we live forever. But soon He took more notice of his new children and a few angels grew to hate them. It was a new emotion, as our hearts had only ever been filled with pureness. Luciel—”
“The Seraph angel?” I asked.
“Yes. Luciel led the charge against Him and all the peaceful angels. As head Archangel for the Council, I was charged with stopping the rebellion. But Luciel was strong and convincing. He had swayed many angels to stand by his side and fight with him. It pained me to order the strike against him as we were inseparable for many eons. He was the closest I had to what humans call a best friend.”
“Aren’t all angels supposed to be our best friends?”
“Some have a greater pull. It’s hard to explain if you’ve never felt it. It’s like we were a part of each other. I would have laid down my existence for Luciel.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t understand. No other angel in Heaven shared that bond with me.
“The sides were drawn, and we needed to take up arms. Luciel was contaminating Heaven with ugly thoughts. He wanted the humans gone and was about to take all of his followers to annihilate them. I had just finished gathering my team when I learned of his plan. We met on the battlefield in the skies.”
Michael stopped, looked around and then sat on a cloud in the shape of a bench.
“We don’t talk much about the Battle of the Fallen because not many of us who witnessed it are left,” he continued. “And those who did, don’t want to be plagued with those harsh memories.”
I wiped a tear from my eye. The way Michael had told the story—my own imagination filled in the gaps. My soul ached for the angels on both sides. Many angels’ souls were snuffed out of existence. And that should never happen.
“How did you stop Luciel?” I asked.
“Before I answer that, let me back up a bit. The battle was not going to plan. Our side thought we could reason with Luciel, but he had different ideas. He struck first, killing angels. That’s when we realized that not only did he truly believe in what he told his followers, but that he would do anything to get what he wanted. Even kill his own brethren.
“I called all the Archangels to battle. For a time, we were winning and halted their descent to Earth. But then Luciel did something unexpected. Until that point, he had stayed clear of me and only fought other angels. He confronted me. We came face to face and were equally matched.”
“You say that like he’s still alive.”
“He is. Very much so. You know him as Sammael. He took that name when we locked him in the cage and proclaimed his revenge.”
“How did he get there?”
“I drew my sword against him and we fought. We parried for a long time. Neither of us able to gain the upper hand. I was unaware what else was going on during the battle as my mind was focused solely on him. I was oblivious to the fact the Seraph angels had joined in the battle until I felt the presence of Grace, the lead Seraph angel. She assisted me. She used her Seraph Sword to strike Luciel’s wing. He screamed, and was clearly in unimaginable pain which made him falter. I had no idea their swords could do that kind of damage. The Seraph angels don’t come out often, so we don’t know a much about their powers. The other Seraph angels descended around him, pointing their swords at his throat. His followers stopped fighting when they saw he had been captured. More Archangels surrounded him. They each plucked a feather from Luciel’s black wings, leaving him with only a single white one remaining. Grace molded the black feathers into the holy metal of Luciel’s own sword, and infused it with Angel Light.”
“So Luciel, I mean Sammael, doesn’t have wings?”
“Yes and no. When the Angel Light took hold of Luciel, it created a sphere-like prison made of himself. Because the Light came from Grace herself, he was unable to escape. The Archangels banished him to a realm lower than Earth to carry out his sentence, which I took him to. Luciel used the ‘el’ from his name and created the name for his new residence: Hell.
“But there is always a loophole to everything. He couldn’t stay locked forever. Eventually he could be let out. With that lone feat
her, he would regenerate his wings over time, but not enough to allow him to escape. And that is where the prophecy is foretold.
Glory!
Babe born.
First and last.
Heaven and unto Earth.
Receives the highest in jubilation.
Enlightens will unite, they shall band.
Triumph be if darkness is driven back.
Help found who love, the world will stand.
“Hope, Kieran, is a wonderful emotion. For your next charge, you should walk in their shoes to understand this,” Michael said. “Hope is a valuable thing. For some, it’s all they have. It’s all we had before, during, and after the Battle, and we continue to carry that hope with us.”
I nodded.
“Become an Ordinary. Lose the wings. You’ll still retain all of your angelic powers. You can manipulate your appearance if you choose, but you’ll will need a believable back story when you appear to her. I’ll leave you to determine that. I’m sure you can come up with the rest.”
Then Michael disappeared, leaving me to my solitude once again.
“I’ll always be here to guide you. Remember that, Kieran.” Michael’s voice echoed in my mind.
I pondered what he had said. It was true that I had been dwelling on the negative when I should have been concentrating on ways to help the Ordinaries.
Resolved, I departed Heaven to search for my next charge.
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—ABOUT THE AUTHOR—
Kristin D. Van Risseghem writes young adult urban fantasy books. She can usually be found lounging on her boat, drinking an ice cold something. Being an avid reader of YA and Women’s Literature stories, Kristin still finds time to read a ton of books in-between writing. And in the winter months, her main goal is to stay warm from the Minnesota cold!
If you enjoyed Arrows & Angels and would like to read more, visit: www.KristinVanRisseghem.com
THE BIRTH OF THE IMMORTAL QUEEN
Katherine Bogle
The metallic shrill of trumpets announced the arrival of foreign royalty. Haven stood from her seat, the legs of her chair scraping across the polished marble floor. The flutter of her brother’s tailored coat whispered at her side, and her sister’s jewelled collar jingled humourlessly as she hopped up. She smiled, shooting a glance at the gleeful Astrid, who beamed at the long procession. Unlike her younger sister, Haven had never been fond of glamorous dinners and regal meetings.
Guards clad in armour paraded across the red carpet, dispersing to reveal a tall man with brown hair and freckled skin. Silver and gold rings refracted light across his tan face as he raised a hand in greeting.
“Announcing, the king in his most vile robes yet,” her brother, Marcel, mocked in his singsong voice. Haven repressed a giggle, but her grin would not be tamed.
“Announcing King Brae of Salander, and his heir, Prince Emeril.” Trumpets lowered, the squire’s piercing voice echoed off the rafters high in the vaulted ceiling. The main throne room was lined with candles. Soldiers stood guard at the surrounding stonewalls. Red Rythern banners hung from the rafters, a gold R stitched into their centers.
“King Keane!” Brae bellowed, opening his arms to Haven’s mother and father.
“King Brae.” Her father grinned, flashing white teeth under his red-tinged beard. “Good to see you.” They nodded to each other before embracing, her father nearly a head taller than the foreign king. Haven’s mother stood nearby, smiling widely, her blue eyes wandering from the king, to the prince. Her bronze skin glowed in the candlelight.
“My Emeril has grown,” Astrid whispered. Haven glanced at her sister, catching Astrid’s curly brown hair and blue eyes alight with admiration for the Prince. Astrid always had a crush on Haven’s childhood friend.
“Of course he has,” Haven said. Her sister, being a few years younger, didn’t know the young prince like she did, but still she regarded Emeril with wide doe eyes and pink cheeks. “It’s been years since you’ve seen him.”
“He’s so handsome,” Astrid whispered back.
Haven scoffed and rolled her eyes in Marcel’s direction. Her shaggy-haired brother chuckled and grinned at them both.
With the kings taking their seats at the head of the throne room turned dining hall, the rest of the room sat, the murmur of conversation passing through the crowd of at least fifty. Every few months Salander’s royal family visited, but with the death of King Brae’s wife it had been nearly a year since the last gathering.
Servers dashed through the large wooden doors of the throne room, silver plates atop their hands. They ran to the furthest side of the room first, serving the kings and queen before moving on to their royal children. Haven leaned back as she waited.
“Royal feasts are always so boring.” Marcel sighed, twisting his knife with his fingers, point against the red clothed table.
“They’re a necessity for royal children.” Astrid huffed, glaring blue daggers.
“Did you quote that directly from mother?” Haven laughed and took a sip of wine, bitter red slipping through her lips and tickling her throat. At the head of the room, where the throne typically rested, Prince Emeril of Salander chatted idly with their nation’s heir to the throne, Haven’s eldest brother, Lucian. In his gold trimmed suit, he was thin as a pole compared to the broad-shouldered Salander prince.
“I did not!” Astrid snapped.
“I think she did, sister.” Marcel laughed, the sound carrying through the hollow room, startling a few nearby guests. “Perhaps we should skip the feast all together.” Marcel met her amber gaze with a wicked grin. Mischief took over his face, and Haven’s heart pounded faster.
“Skip your duties?” Astrid gasped.
“What do you have in mind, Brother?” Haven beamed. Her skin itched with anticipation. Anything was better than hours of dinner and idle conversation.
“We could take a little horse ride, perhaps head to see Yorick in town,” Marcel suggested, shrugging his wide shoulders.
“Is that your friend who’s always sneaking into the castle at night?” Haven asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The very same.”
“Why not?” Haven said, glancing at the head of the long dining table. Her parents didn’t spare them a glance. “Let’s go while they’re busy with King Brae.”
Marcel leapt to his feet, nearly sending his chair into a passing server. He grinned and bowed in apology before standing tall, towering to his full height. The server took off without a second glance. He was six feet at sixteen, nearly as tall as their father. Marcel placed his fists on his hips. “Come on, sister.” Taking her hand, Marcel led Haven from the grand hall, leaving Astrid to protest in their wake.
Bunching her maroon dress in one hand, Haven suppressed a giggle as they escaped into the corridor. Passing lines of servers and maids, they ran. Heart beating loudly in her ears, Haven followed Marcel to the courtyard beyond the hall. Servants, noblemen and guards dodged as they careened past, taking the stairs two at a time. Pale stone steps led down to a second courtyard, shrouded on either side by pine trees.
In the main yard at the base of the steps, more guards roamed, and the two royal children slipped by to the tall, brown building just inside the gates. The stables reeked of manure, and a few brown stallions grazed outside, tethered to a long pole protruding from the earth.
Bursting through the stable doors, Marcel grabbed his saddle. Haven followed, shutting the door quietly behind them. Soft chuffs filled the space. Nearly twenty stallions and strong mares remained in their pens, waiting for their master’s return. Marcel prepped his black stallion immediately while Haven waited patiently, letting her brother saddle her gray mare as well before handing her the reins.
“Ready?” He grinned.
“Ready.” Haven smiled back.
“Where on earth do you think you’re going?”
Haven started, spinning to see Lucian,
brown hair tousled, and blue eyes ablaze. He stalked toward them, his black boots clicking on the stone floor. Her palms grew slick with sweat. Not now.
“Brother!” Marcel’s voice hitched louder. He hadn’t expected Lucian to follow.
“We’re in the middle of a feast and you’re taking off to the stables.” Lucian crossed his arms over his chest, the golden buttons of his suit winking at her. “Why?”
“You know how I loathe these feasts.” Marcel sighed loudly, sagging against the wall like a child. Haven hid her smile.
“Don’t be angry with us, Lucian. We just wanted a little fun,” she pouted, widening her eyes and furrowing her brow. Marcel might not be able to get them out of trouble, but she knew Lucian couldn’t resist her doe eyes and pouted lip.
Lucian’s scowl softened. He scratched his head awkwardly and shifted from foot to foot. “I know they’re boring, but it is our duty to attend.”
“We will attend. Given a small reprieve,” Marcel said.
“Please Brother,” Haven pled.
“Fine.” Lucian rolled his eyes. “You two are insatiable. Where are we off to?”
“We?” Marcel balked. His eyes went wide.
“Yes, we. I won’t have you both getting into any more trouble.” Lucian glared as if to say do-not-argue-this.
“All right, Lucian.” Marcel sighed in defeat, waving his brother off while he tightened the straps on Haven’s mare. “Get your horse.”
Lucian crossed the stables, picking his saddle off the wall before fastening it tightly to a white stallion. He swung up, perching gracefully atop his steed. Haven and Marcel mounted theirs next, right after Haven found a suitable pair of riding boots. They were too big, wide around her legs and feet, but they’d do.
Clapping her heels against her mare, Haven eased out of the stall.
Leading them from the stable and into the lower courtyard, Lucian directed the trio to the castle gates. “Where are we off to?” he called back, the clop of hooves nearly drowning him out.
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