by Nathan Parks
“Zarius, I want you to find out anything you can from your wife. See if that team has any ideas of what is coming or how we need to prepare. Also . . .” she paused, “I wouldn’t mention my name. If we want Eve to help in any of this, then we don’t want to bring me up.
“Serenity and Chad, I want you to get back to me in about an hour. You both know better than anyone in this room how I think. I need two people who will not be afraid to stand up to anything I decide we are going to do and challenge it if either of you see an issue. We need to sharpen each other.”
“We all know I won't be afraid to stand up to you!” Serenity raised her hand. “Guilty as charged.”
The group dispersed and left Leah and Gene in the room alone.
“So, what would you like for me to do?” the old man asked.
“Really? You are asking me? Gene, there is no way I could tell the planter what to do. You are the caregiver of life itself!”
He scooted his chair closer to hers, took her hands, and spoke, “Yes, I am the caregiver, the planter, and so much more. That is the reason I am here. Your reason is to lead. You would not ask me how to create a seed from nothing, create the liquid nourishment, or prepare the ground in which the seed will grow life. No. Why?”
“Because that is something I know nothing about.”
“You are correct. Each and every single individual, no matter the kind—Fallen, Eternal, Mortal, Vapor . . . it doesn’t matter—each have their purpose. I know nothing about leading a team into a fight, a troop into war, or even taking the existence away from a living being. You are the leader of Mortals and Eternals . . . you, Leah. So, I ask you again: what would you like for me to do?”
There was a slight moment that Leah understood how Eve must have felt in connecting with Alfonso. She leaned forward, half expecting Gene to give her a grandfatherly hug.
Chapter Thirteen
The dweller of three realms, yet the one that he longed for the most was the one he could no longer visit. Mantus took a morning stroll through one of the many gardens around the Castle Houska. His skin was tough and darkened from all the time he had resided in the Abyss. The moistness in the air struggled to soak through the leathery exterior of his existence. He was weary. This struggle had been for way too long, and there really was no reward.
When Hecate had come to him with concerns on the state of the Arch Council before the War of the Serpents, he had listened, believing her to be genuinely concerned. At that point in his existence he had everything he could have ever desired . . . at least he had thought so. He had joined into a partnership with an amazing lady, beautiful and confident. The promotion to General of the Celestian Guard had come about a year before Mantus and Hecate joined together, and then news that there was a child to be added to the family had been more than he could have asked for.
“Now, I look back and realize it was all a façade.”
His hand reached out and brushed against several rose blooms. He had to laugh . . . although laughing was something he rarely did. The contrast of the soot-stained and dry hands against the soft and fragrant rose blossom was the epitome of the picture of irony: one beautiful and the image of love and pureness and the other a mirror of darkness and burnt dreams and vision.
He was grateful for the overcast sky. His inability to stay in the ultraviolet rays of the sun for long periods of time made it difficult many times to even have the chance to experience beauty in its raw form. Over the span of time he had been exiled, his inability to handle the sun causing Mortals to speak around campfires and long nights at sea about a figure that would rise from the ground or up from the dark, murky depths to steal the souls of mortal man—tall tales of a strong, bloodthirsty Demon who would appear suddenly out of the fog or smoke. The appearance of this warrior of darkness would make men freeze in fear. The Viking warriors even began to mimic their own appearance from the legendary visual description of this Demon and his viciousness.
“Most times I would give it all up—the authority, the powerful ability to use fear to control mankind, the knowledge that I am heralded as a god—for one more chance to feel the sun upon my being and to breathe in the air of Scintillantes and hold it in my lungs,” he admitted to no one but himself.
Deep within the thick shell of his existence still beat the heart of a warrior leader, but all the battles, wars, conflicts, and tiffs had created a burden that rested heavily and squarely on his back. There was no set direction for anyone but simply the direction in which one chose to steer, whether it be upstream or downstream.
“Your shoulders are still broad, your will still resolute; but the flame of your fire is fading, Old Friend,” a voice spoke from behind him.
“Is it that evident? I do not need to have others see that; for once the alpha wolf becomes long in the tooth, he is chased from the pack, is he not?” Mantus reflected without even turning around.
“Yes, but the fact that we are even meeting after so long is reflective of the desire that the old alpha still may have some wisdom and bite.”
He nodded, “Maybe, but it also could be that I have just seen all of this through to the end of one age and the start of yet another, and I am done.”
He touched the blossoms one more time before turning around to face his visitor.
“You look breathtaking, if I may say so, Gabriel.”
The Archangel laughed, waved him off with her hand, and took a seat on a garden bench.
“Leave the schmoozing to your wife, Mantus. In war and fighting, there is none like you; but flattery and ambiguous flirting . . . that is Hecate’s thing.”
The squared-off warrior and general chuckled, “I can’t argue with that. Also, let’s make sure we designate that she is my ex-wife.”
“Why am I here, Mantus?”
He tugged at his beard; his mouth tilted to one side as he pondered the answer to her question. In his mind it was not really a secret why he had asked to meet with her, but talking about it out loud meant it could no longer be held inside as a secret.
“How did we get here, Gabriel? We—all of us—have been on a collision course to the point where we are today. I don’t shy away from any part I have played in any of this. There is no desire within me to even believe that I am more than a Fallen who has played out the role of a villain upon the stage of existence in front of the curtain of time.”
Where she sat was not too far behind him, her head tilted to the side, legs and arms crossed. They had been friends eons ago, as close as a brother and sister. They, at one time, had talked about becoming partners; but then each had laughed it off choosing, instead, to remain a powerhouse of friendship. That was until the War of the Serpents.
She had warned him of Hecate. She broke as she watched the enchantress draw him in. At that time, she had no idea what Hecate was up to and no understanding in how deep her vileness would go.
“Mantus, why am I here?” Gabriel repeated.
He motioned for her to come with him, “Please, Gabriel, follow me.”
She hesitated, “Where to?”
“Trust me . . . please. I have never done anything to personally hurt you; and even though we are on separate sides of the balance, I would like to think our former friendship is still strong enough for you to at least give me some trust.”
She nodded, “Ok, I trust you.”
They started walking back toward the buildings. Mantus struggled deep inside himself with how to proceed.
“This is hard for me.”
“What is?”
“I don’t even know how to voice the words out loud, Gabriel.”
She was so confused.
“As long as we have known each other, Brother, I always knew you to be a straight shooter. Everyone talked about how you could be brash; but they always knew where they stood with you, what was expected, and how you felt about things. I can’t believe that you have changed so much that any of that is different.”
They reached a large, iron gate that led into a s
tone foyer of sorts and then to wooden and metal doors that would take them into the main area of Houska. She was right: he still had to be true to himself.
“I’m done, Gabriel.”
She placed her hand on his arm, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me: I’m done. I’m done with all of this. I’m done with time—by which I’m not used to being bound—slowly leeching away my memories of joy. I’m done with kicking against the thorns that dig into my existence, reminding me that no matter the strategic pieces I move around, I will always be ‘Mantus, Ruler of the Abyss and General of the Se'irim.’ Even those whom Mortal call Immortal have a time where they take their curtain call and head backstage of everything to rest.”
He held the gate open, and he motioned for her to walk through. They both continued through the foyer and entered into the main area of the castle.
“Mantus, I understand. You are right: we both are on opposite sides, but we have danced this dance for so long that the lines have blurred; the music seems to be out of tune; and, speaking for myself at least, we find ourselves wondering what it is that we do. I have to admit, My Friend, I do not believe that any of us could have imagined the cascade of substantial magnitude that the actions you and the others took would cause.”
Their footsteps rang out on the stone floor. He led her to a stairway that twisted downward. He stopped at the top of the stairs and crossed his arms.
“Could not have said it better myself. I can’t change what happened, but I believe that everyone of us are at another moment of critical choices. I made the wrong choice before; I will not do it again. Please follow me. I have something to show you, and then I think why I called you here will become clearer.”
Gabriel followed as they took the stairs down into the belly of the castle. There was something noble about these old structures. They had the ability to make one afraid and feel brave and confident all at the same time. She always had admired human ingenuity.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and she saw a long hallway stretch out before them with doors on both sides. She felt apprehensive about continuing, but she also did trust that Mantus’ insinuation that he would not bring harm to her was true. He could be loyal to a fault; and when Mantus gave his word or even alluded to it, one could trust him.
Chapter Fourteen
“Before I show you what I am going to show you, please understand something. This moment, where we stand right now, is unique. Yes, you are an old friend; but you are also considered an old enemy. I may be weary and reminiscent, but do not mistake any of it for weakness or surrender. I am still very aware of our positions, and I offer no guarantee or promise to what I am about to propose.”
“I understand,” is all she said.
Mantus accepted her response. He stopped them both in front of a heavy cell door and opened up a window that was at eye level. He motioned for Gabriel to take a look inside.
She observed what looked like a prison cell from a medieval movie. As her eyes adjusted to the low level of light inside, she observed a figure sleeping on a wood-framed bed. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. She then looked at Mantus.
“So, you are the reason Metatron has not been seen or heard from?”
He shut the small window, turned, and leaned against the door.
“No, I am not; but I am the reason he is here.”
“I don’t understand. What are you doing with him? What do you want?”
“I told you, Gabriel, I am done. I do not see anything really left for me. If the rumors are true, then my son’s time here on earth is done; and the rest of him will be eternally captured within a realm in which I must make sure he is tormented. I can no longer do this.
“I am not ready to share how Metatron got here; and no, you are not going to talk with him, so don’t ask. I can promise you, for now, he is safer here than he could be anywhere else in his situation. I plan on maintaining that safety . . . again, for now.
“As for what do I want . . .” He rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “I want this all over. There are a lot of things that are about to take place. I have looked at the cards and have attempted to look at all the ways it could play out; and in the end, I will still be me and still be here. I am not fooling myself anymore in thinking that this is not my fate.
“I propose an idea for you to consider: I have information that I believe will benefit the Arch Council and the Alliance. I also am very aware that the time for the Council is coming to an end. I believe our time as rulers of the ages is coming to a close. We have fought ourselves into a corner—two immortal enemies fighting it out for dominance only to discover that when they have killed each other off, no one has enough strength left to stand. Both look up and see that while they were fighting, they lost vision; and without vision, they perished. Another took their place. The time for mankind to write their own history is now on us.
“I will give you Metatron back and will give you some vital information. In exchange, I want assurance that I and my brother will be spared as long as we remain allied with you and the Alliance. No, I am not asking for forgiveness or even a pardon. I am not looking to return to Scintillantes. I just want a way out. I know that I must remain Lord of the Abyss. The torment there will be my torment until I no longer exist, but I want no more of the fighting. This, if you and the others accept, will be my final battle.”
She was stunned. Her nurturing heart wanted to immediately agree, rush in, and get Metatron out; but she knew that it would not be that simple. Gabriel also could not believe that she was standing with one of the conductors of the War of the Serpents who was, in a way, offering a white flag.
“I do agree with a lot of what you stated, My Friend. The sun for the Eternals has begun to set with the setting of the ages. Yes, the Arch Council . . . we have lost our unity, our drive, and yes, even our vision. I do not believe that we are effective anymore, and many whom we have attempted to guide and direct have become disenchanted and even on the verge of walking away from it all.
“I will talk with Nemamiah and Michael. You are aware that once Michael hears about this, he, most likely, will bring a full-on war to your doorstep?”
“I do more than you understand, and that is why I asked you to come and not him. It is also why I am adding a stipulation to this deal of ours.”
She smirked, “Of course, and what is that?”
“There are only two people I want you to talk to about this . . . one with the Council and one with the Alliance.”
“Oh, ok. I believe you are asking me to only talk to Nemamiah, leaving Michael out. Who with the Alliance? Also, why?”
“I want you to talk with Leah.”
“Leah?”
He nodded, “She has stood beside the Arch Council. She has done all you have asked. She is feared by more of the Clans than you all can imagine, and her loyalty inspires me. I know that other Alliance members will follow her lead, and so I trust her.”
“There is a problem with that,” she quipped.
“What would that be?”
“She is no longer with the Alliance . . . more to the point, she chose the way of a Vapor, and I believe for all the reasons for which you stated you admire her.”
He put his head down for a moment in thought. He rubbed his beard as he digested this bit of news.
“I still believe she is a key in what we are about to face, no matter the side. So, I still stand by my request.”
“If I do this, when will you release Metatron?”
“All in time as time reveals.” He laughed at an ill attempt at a one-line joke. “He is not your concern right now. You need to understand one thing: as long as we work together, he will not be harmed. If you are unable to make this deal move forward, then I cannot promise anything for certain.”
“So, blackmail?”
“No,” he stated, “my insurance for an investment.”
“Call it what you wish, but your choosing to hold onto him doesn’t look like you are
really willing to change anything.”
“My choice to not kill him or banish him shows you are wrong; and remember, I never stated I was looking to change myself . . . just changing my circumstance.
* * * * *
Gabriel sat in the back corner of an ice cream parlor. She loved ice cream. It had to be the closest thing she could imagine to sin and lust . . . yup, that was ice cream. She watched as her counterpart walked in. She waved to get her attention.
“I dare say this is the first time of which I am aware that there is not one single member of the Council inside Scintillantes!” Nemamiah stated as she pulled out the wire-framed chair and sat down on the other side of the small table.
“Ice cream?” Gabriel asked, pushing her bowl toward her friend.
“No, I am good. I do not understand your infatuation with that stuff.”
“Ah . . . it is so amazing.”
Nemamiah just sat looking at her, waiting for her to either finish her ice cream or share with her how the meeting with Mantus had gone. Nemamiah had been against the meeting. She had not had the same relationship with Mantus as Gabriel had before the War of the Serpents. She did not trust the general.
Gabriel took another few minutes to quietly indulge herself in her frozen treat and finished with a ceremonious throwing of the spoon into the bowl.
“What did Mantus want?”
Gabriel shrugged, “You aren’t going to be ready for anything I really tell you, but it is what it is.”
“He would like a seat on the Arch Council?” the other Archangel half joked.
“No, not exactly. He actually expressed that the time of the Council is over.”
“Oh, really?” she laughed. “Maybe we should inform the other members of this.”
“Well, Mantus was very specific with his demands. One was not to tell Michael.”
“Demand? Who is he to demand?”
“He has Metatron, and that is why he is demanding.”
Nemamiah let out a long breath and set back in her chair.
