by Josh Raymer
God, I changed my mind. If it’s your will, this door should be open; that’s what I want.
For real this time.
I look at Lilith, who stares back at me with those icy blue eyes.
“Here goes nothing,” I tell her.
I yank upward on the handle, and for a moment, it seems to offer the same resistance. Undeterred, I keep pulling upward until a cavernous thoooommm reverberates through the pool. The surface of the water begins to bubble and swirl as I lift the door until it’s standing straight up.
I’m reminded of a garbage disposal as the water gargles and gets sucked down the hole.
Like Lilith said, I guess that makes us the garbage!
When the pool is finally empty, I step down into it to examine the hole up close. Lilith stays at the rim and drops to her knees so she can extend her neck down toward the hole. It’s almost as if she can’t believe the door finally opened, and she doesn’t want to press her luck.
I stand with my feet on either side of the hole and look down. Unlike a normal hole on Earth that would have sides leading to a vanishing point, this hole has no walls. Staring back at us is a black expanse that seems to stretch forever in every direction. I squat down and look from different angles, but it’s no use—I can’t find a single clue as to where this hole will dump us.
I look up at Lilith, whose face is scrunched as she studies the hole.
“What do you think?” I ask her.
“I think God’s got a sense of humor,” she says, her eyes finding mine. “I’ve been waiting almost my whole life to see what’s on the other side of that door. Now that it’s open, I’ve got about as much of an idea as I did when it was closed. It could drop us right back here for all we know.”
“Now that would be funny,” I admit. Lilith’s eye roll tells me she doesn’t share my sense of humor. “Like Sisyphus and his boulder, except we’ve got sand and a supernatural sewer grate.”
“Do your abilities include a sense of humor?” Lilith asks drily. “If so, you need an upgrade.”
We both laugh, then sigh deeply in unison.
“The way I see it, we’ve got two choices,” I say. “We stay here and hope for my friends to find us and come to our rescue. Or we dive into this hole and see what happens.”
“Seeing as how nobody knows about this place except for the two of us, the archangels, and God, I’d say it’s highly unlikely your friends will ever find us,” Lilith says. “Even if they did, they’d only be here to rescue the nephilim, not yours truly. In fact, I have a feeling that your great-great-grandfather will be very upset if we manage to escape and he sees that you brought me along.”
“I’ll deal with Augustus if we get that far,” I tell her. “It sounds like you’re in favor of plan B?”
Lilith nods twice, her eyes never leaving mine.
I extend my hand up to her, which she takes to steady herself as she drops down into the pit. We stand side-by-side, staring down into the inky expanse below. My heart is racing now that the moment has arrived to take the plunge. I think back to the moment Gregori had his fingers wrapped around my neck and the fear I felt as the life drained from my body. I still have no idea what happens if I die while I’m in Heaven. Is it game over at that point, no more lives left to redeem?
I flinch a little as Lilith speaks up and snaps me from my anxiety spiral.
“You know, I never thought in a million years it would be a nephilim who sprung me from this prison,” she says. “I honestly thought I would die here, alone and forgotten.”
I look her in the eyes, and for a moment, feel genuine pity for her. I still don’t trust her. I don’t know what she has planned. But there’s no denying that she’s suffered for what happened in the Garden all those years ago. That pain is spilling forth from the eyes staring back at me.
“This is your second chance, Lilith,” I tell her. “A clean slate. If you keep your word, I’ll vouch for you with Augustus and the others. But if you betray what you told me, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Oh, darling,” she says dramatically, “I would expect nothing less. Shall we?”
She nods at the hole. It’s now or never.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” I reply.
With that, we both jump into the unknown.
***
It’s the same sensation as when you fall backward onto the bed, only ten times worse. I’ve lost track of Lilith, along with any sense of what’s up and what’s down. There is no wind rushing past my ears. In fact, there’s no sound at all here, not even my sputtering screams. The only signs that I’m still falling are that stomach-in-my-throat sensation and the fact that my feet aren’t on solid ground.
I have no idea where we’re headed. We might have jumped into a bottomless pit, and this is where we’ll spend the rest of our days, falling forevermore into this soundless, black void. I can’t tell how much time has gone by. Could be seconds or hours for all I know. I clear my mind and try to let this moment wash over me rather than fighting so hard against it. As I quiet the voice in my head, my panic begins to dissipate. The blackness has me in its warm embrace now. My nerves unwind, and so does my stomach. I’m a leaf on the breeze, blowing wherever the wind takes me.
I don’t know what’s come over me or why I’m acting this way. The voice that’s usually chattering in my head has quieted and been replaced by another voice. It’s not loud and distinct like mine usually is, but rather quiet and gentle, like the close whisper of a good friend. It’s reassuring me in an unspoken way that surrender is the best course of action right now.
Don’t fight it, the voice says without saying a word. Let the destination come to you. Nothing bad is going to happen if you let go.
I wouldn’t say I’m asleep. It’s more like a trance, one in which I can see my body falling through the air without going anywhere like I’m skydiving with no ground in sight. There are dark circles under my eyes, my cheek is swollen where I got punched, and my color is pale (bordering on translucent). I look like death warmed over, but despite that, I am wearing a rather relaxed expression. My fists have unclenched, and my fingers are splayed out to catch the non-existent wind.
My roaming consciousness zooms past my body without warning, punching through the darkness of this interdimensional drainpipe and into a warm golden wormhole. Whatever part of me this is that’s being transported—I’m fairly certain my body hasn’t moved—I try to maintain the same calmness the voice encouraged me to have, despite the fact that I’m literally having an out-of-body experience.
I try to lift my hands in front of me, but nothing happens. It’s like I’m watching an HD camera feed through VR goggles, except I’m the camera, and there are no goggles. Now that I’ve established that I definitely don’t have arms, I’m not even sure if this part of me has eyes.
The golden wormhole ends suddenly, and like a car shooting out from a tunnel, I’m jettisoned into an area I recognize immediately: Bron’s canyon. I’m at a higher vantage point than I was when I arrived with Augustus, but there’s no mistaking the colors of those walls and how they remind me of Mars.
As I slowly descend toward Bron’s home, I spot two figures sitting out front. Their heads are down, and they’re not speaking to each other. As I come closer, I see that it’s Bron and Augustus. Wherever my heart is, it skips a beat at the sight of them. With one of his long arms, Bron is drawing in the dirt while Augustus rubs small circles into his temples.
I settle about ten feet above them, just low enough to hear Bron’s finger scratching in the dirt.
“What are we going to do now, Augustus?” Bron asks, his voice small.
Augustus continues to massage his temples with his fingers. He waits a moment before he looks up and responds, “We have to find him. We can’t take on the archangels without Silas. He might not know his own strength yet, but he’s the key to stopping thi
s war before it’s too late.”
Augustus turns to face Bron, who looks up to meet his gaze.
“You’re Heaven’s architect,” Augustus tells Bron. “Do you have any idea where Silas might have gone? Perhaps there’s a place the archangels like to send people who get in their way?”
Bron ponders this question for a moment, his hand covering his mouth. His head scans back and forth like he’s reading a book only he can see. He shakes his head after a few seconds pass.
“I helped God design Heaven, yes, but I wasn’t privy to every detail of his plan,” Bron admits. “There are parts of this place outside my knowledge, corners where the bugs like to hide.”
“You’re guessing Raphael sent Silas to one of these dark corners?” Augustus asks.
“That would seem the logical choice,” Bron replies. “The fact that we can’t communicate with Silas in our minds tells me he isn’t on the map, so to speak. He’s somewhere hidden, cut off from us.”
“We’ve got to find him, Bron,” Augustus says in a low, sad tone.
“We will,” Bron assures him. “Or he’ll find us. He’s a resourceful young man, that’s for sure.”
I miss what comes next as the image I’m seeing dissolves, and my consciousness returns to my body, which is still in free-fall within the soundless black void. Whatever the reasoning was behind that magic school bus ride, I feel reinvigorated by what Augustus said. I don’t know how I can help him stop the archangels after one just punched me into another dimension, but if Augustus believes in me, that’s enough to keep my hopes alive that I do have a role to play in this angelic war.
You are more important to this fight than you know, the voice tells me. Do you believe that?
I’m starting to believe it. Now I just need to reunite with Bron and Augustus, learn their plan, stop this war, and get back to Sherwood before my friends and family lose all faith that I’m ever coming back. A twin motivation pushes me forward now: finish the fight, then get back home.
I close my eyes, quiet my thoughts, and focus on those two purposes. I see the angels laying down their weapons and Heaven restored to order. I smile at the look on Peter’s face when I touch down in Sherwood to lend a much-needed hand in their fight against Malphas’s troops. I don’t just see these images—I smell them, taste them, hear them, and live every moment of them.
There is nothing I want more than to make these visions come true. I’ll do anything to make it happen. By partnering with Lilith, I’ve already demonstrated just how far I’m willing to go. Whatever comes next, no matter how crazy it gets, I’ll tackle it head-on.
After being thrust into a crazy situation, that’s the best I can do. If Peter and Colin were here, I know they’d appreciate my attitude. It’s what got my brother back home safely.
Now it’s what will stop Heaven from being destroyed. Whatever it takes. I’m all in.
A funny thing happens when I think those thoughts: my feet touch solid ground, the darkness vanishes, and sound returns like the roar of a waterfall to my ears. After what felt like an eternity falling down a rip in the universe, it’s a welcome and overwhelming relief to be upright again.
The first thing I do is look around for Lilith, whom I lost track of during our descent. My stomach tightens at the thought that she’s already skipped out on me. We’re back in a familiar spot: the ruby path winding between the slowly swaying, brilliantly sapphire time trees. As I step forward to search for Lilith, my footfalls produce a soft trill that makes it sound like I’m walking on a keyboard.
I barely notice the pulsating branches like blue snakes slithering toward me with their apple-sized orbs growing brighter and brighter. I have to find Lilith before she can give me the slip. A rush of relief washes over me when I spot her about ten feet up the path, crouched down behind a tree.
As I approach, it looks as if she’s studying something along the roots that stick up a few feet above the ground before plunging down into it. As she closes her eyes, she runs her hand over the root like a blind person reading Braille. She stops, opens her eyes, and looks up at me excitedly.
“I knew it!” she exclaims. “You’ve got to come here and see this; it’s really incredible.”
I walk around the root she’s touching and squat down beside her. Up close, I can hear how hard she’s breathing, her chest rising and falling with each excited breath.
“I thought you’d run away already,” I tell her. “Given me the slip first chance you got.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” she admits. “But, honestly, I’d rather not have you chasing me right now. Plus, I wanted to see if my suspicions were correct. Turns out, they were.”
“What suspicions?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
I follow her finger, which is pointed at a spot on the root of the tree. There, carved in elegant cursive writing with giant looping letters, is a four-word message:
We will all fall.
“Is this your handiwork?” I ask Lilith.
She looks at me and nods, her face a mix of pride and sadness. This was the first thing she wanted to do after being sprung from her prison. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she darted over here.
The question is: why? What is it about this message that is so important to her?
“I wrote it not long after God raised me from the dirt,” she says. “It was this tree, this very one, that was planted in the midst of the Garden where Adam and I lived. He couldn’t see it, but I could—this tree was put there by God not to sharpen our discipline or test our obedience. It was put there to ensure that we would mess up, that we’d sin and ruin God’s perfect plan.”
This sentiment echoes what Augustus said earlier. God knew from the beginning that humans would fall into sin. By placing a tree in their midst that was impossible to resist, he gave them a legitimate excuse when that moment finally came. The tree wasn’t a test; it was an inevitability.
I’m not sure I agree with what Augustus and Lilith believe, but it’s a compelling argument.
“When Adam found this message, he ratted me out to God,” Lilith continues. “God confronted me, and I told him what I thought. I was imprisoned shortly afterward, and Eve entered the picture.”
“When you wrote it, you had to know that Adam wouldn’t approve,” I reply. “Some part of you wanted the message to be found. Did you self-sabotage to punch your ticket out of there?”
Lilith laughs. It’s a small, quiet sound. She turns to look at me, her light blue eyes sad.
“It wasn’t that,” she tells me. “I wanted to leave my mark on the world. I wanted to stand for something, to make a statement that I wasn’t buying what God was selling. He created me, and I adored him, but like all children, I wanted to know why he made the choices he did. I asked him as much one night during our walk through the Garden, and he told me not to concern myself with why the tree was there. The only thing I needed to know was that its fruit was off-limits.”
“That wasn’t good enough for you?” I ask her.
“Would it be good enough for you?” she shoots back. I shake my head. She’s right. I don’t know how I would’ve reacted in that moment during a literal walk with God, but squatting here next to this tree with Lilith right now, I can see where she’s coming from. I’d have wanted answers, too.
“I carved this message for those that would come after me, so they would know the truth of what God placed in our path when he created paradise,” she says. “We were destined to fall. In fact, I’d argue that’s why we were created in the first place—to be redeemed. But nobody ever saw my message. Eve got sucked in by the fruit and the devil’s wily temptations, they both partook, and that was a wrap. Humanity was banished from the Garden, and the tree came here before the Flood.”
“Why do you think God brought it here?”
Lilith now stands, looking around at the trees lining the
ruby red path. I rise from my squatted position, keeping my gaze fixed on her face. It’s the small expressions there—the way her eyes widen and twinkle, the small tug at the corners of her mouth—that tell me how much this moment means to her.
After thousands of years staring at a formless desert, this is like a feast for her senses. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go from that sad, forgotten prison to this surreal, colorful dreamscape. When her gaze finally returns to meet mine, her expression is no longer sad. It’s resolute. Certain. Whatever she is about to say, she believes in her heart that it’s true.
“God is my father, and despite the problems I have with him, he doesn’t do things without a reason,” she explains. “This tree is here—I’m here—to make clear your next move.”
I wait, staring into her eyes, letting the moment crescendo.
“You have to let the angels fall,” she finishes. “All of them.”
Chapter 9
9. To the Future and Back
Is Lilith right? Are we all destined to fall?
Humanity fell into sin in the Garden of Eden. Along with Lucifer, the rebellious angels fell from Heaven. Malphas and Gregori, despite their scheming, both fell at the hands of nephilim.
But this is different, isn’t it? The collateral damage of activating Lightfall—not to mention the fallout on Earth and in Heaven—will be unlike anything creation has ever seen. Nothing will ever be the same. Heaven has seen rebellion before, but it was Lucifer’s plan all along to get kicked out of Heaven and paint himself as a tragic hero. This time, the angels who support Malphas and Gregori are driven by a singular purpose: get to the throne room and free Asaroth from his cage.
Lilith believes the original time tree being here is a sign. I have no idea what to make of the fact that it’s here with a message that is eerily relevant to the monumental decision we’re facing.
Logically, it’s just a coincidence the tree is here. But what if Lilith is right, and God was thinking several hundred steps ahead when he placed the tree here, in a spot he knew I would one day visit? It’s possible. Not likely, but possible. Even if there was a plan behind the placement of the tree, are the words scrawled into its root meant to be instructive or merely a reminder of the past?
