The Rise

by Nathan Parks

  Ashmedai let out a long exhale.

  “General, I don’t know how to answer that! I am not the same as I was at the start. Yes, most of what I have become is because there was nothing else to become. Look around us,” he motioned around him. “We expected to be gods to mortal man. We expected power, authority, position; and yet those of us who followed you were not only exiled from our home, but also exiled from the world of Mortals, as well. I don’t blame you. I blame . . .”

  “Hecate?” Mantus asked.

  The Demon nodded, “For every single bit of it . . . from being here to even the transformation that I now have accepted as being who I am.”

  “What if I told you that all of it could be reconciled?”

  Ashmedai just looked straight at him, searching his face to see if there was a punchline coming; but all he could see was the stoic face of a hardened warrior.

  “You have to give me more than that, Boss. I am not following you.”

  “What if we could, in a small way, get back at Hecate and regain some of what we had always thought we would have?”

  “Are you talking about a Clan uprising? Too many have tried. Hell, even now the Clans are at war with each other.”

  “True, but what if we had allies that they do not have?”

  “Allies?”

  Mantus stood up and began to walk around. His arms were crossed, and he seemed troubled with attempting to actually get out what he was trying to say.

  “Is what you used to be fully taken over by what you are today? Is there a chance that your old self could return?”

  “My old self? You mean before the exile?”

  “No . . . yes . . . well, maybe not before the exile, but just after the exile. Could you go back to being a fierce warrior but not focused on the love for what you need to have in order to do what you do now: the torment and torture that I need from you here?”

  The Demon sat still and silent. His mind couldn’t even remember that person that Mantus was asking about. The general was right: there had been change. Some change could be reversed, but too many times it could not be.

  “No, I don’t think I can. This is me. This is who I am.” In order to make his point, he raised his right arm. “One of the reasons I chose to take on the name Ashmedai is because I am Ash. Look at me, Mantus. Half of my body is glowing ember. I am not sure I could even live outside this realm of ours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mantus stopped and placed his palms on the tabletop.

  “I thought that is what you would say to that question, but I also hoped there was a chance that there was some of the old you still inside there.”

  “I would apologize, but I feel that what I am now is just an enhanced version of what I used to be. The creature I am today makes that old version look like a choir boy.”

  The general smirked at that remark, “You are right at that.”

  “So again . . . what allies?”

  Mantus returned to where he had been sitting and leaned back. He knew he was taking a chance opening up. Ashmedai could easily take this information and place it in the wrong hands; Mantus could find everything crumbling around him quickly. However, he also knew that this was the path that was laid out before him, and he had to take it. It could change with a drop of the hat, but he had to walk where it led for now.

  “The time has come for change, Ash. What we had long ago hoped for has been nothing but a bloody façade, and the conductor of it all has been my ex-wife from the start. I’m done. There is only one thing I long to see, and that is her downfall.”

  As the general struggled with exposing his desire and plan, a light bulb turned on in Ash’s head.

  “You are joining with the Alliance!”

  Mantus looked straight into his captain’s eyes, “I am.”

  “How? Why?”

  “Well, I believe that Hecate will never stop until she is either taken out or rules with an iron fist. The latter is what I am hoping for; yet if I just take her out, I would find myself a part of the permanent fixture of my own realm and not in the ruling sense. There is not a single House of the Fallen that would back me up. Instead, it would leave a void that will require even more of a bloodbath to fill. Most believe her and her talks of the rise of Dracon, our son. Because of that, they will slaughter each other if she is gone. They will try to release Legion or at least take over his mantle to carry forward in hopes of gaining power. In order to be able to move into a new age—one ruled by mortal man—we must adapt. Yes, I have worked out a loose deal with the Alliance.”

  Ashmedai sat stunned. He had followed Mantus since the fall. He imagined the general falling in a glorious battle with the full glory of combat, fearless anger, and raging flames but never standing down and aligning with the enemy.

  “Sir, may I speak freely?”

  “Of course,” Mantus acknowledged. “That is what I need right now.”

  The captain took a moment to collect his thoughts. He sat staring at his ashened hand glowing with the living fire of the Abyss. His mind flooded with many questions, ideas, and even some feelings of betrayal. He knew that he was given permission to speak freely, but he also understood that he still needed to sculpt his thoughts in a manner that would get his point across without enraging his Overlord.

  “You started off asking me to keep this meeting and the subject matter private, even ensuring I don’t share this with Dumah. When I take a look at that request, Mantus, I hear you setting up walls to exclude yourself from the very individuals who have followed you, believed in you, and stood beside you . . . the very same people who still do all of those things today.”

  Mantus sat stoically, listening intently.

  Ash continued, “Sir, we are warriors, soldiers, legends. There is a reason. You asked if I could return to what I used to be, and I was honest with you: I cannot.

  “I now want to ask you the same. Sure, we are not where we expected to be. This . . .” he motioned to their surroundings, “is not the glorious realm of power that others may have, but it is ours. It is the one place where not a single one of the Clans have attempted to take over; no one wants it. We have, for the most part, been able to exist without any interruption from the rest of our kind instead of being swept into the Clan Wars.

  “Sure, we are weary. I get that, Sir. Warriors get tired; soldiers get tired. They get worn out, but they will never, ever stop being a warrior. It is ingrained in us; it is who we are.”

  “I understand,” Mantus simplistically responded.

  “Do you, General? I ask that, because I ask you the same question you presented to me. Can you return—really return—to whom or what you once were? True, you may not have the scars of the Abyss upon your body the same as I do; but it is not the scars that are easily visible that we ignore. No, because this . . .” he lifted up his right arm and pointed to the right side of his face, “can’t be ignored. It is the scars that are deep within that we can convince ourselves do not affect us. Sir, you have been touched by the Abyss. It is in you and you in it. It is more than a place. It is your kingdom, and it exists how it does today because of your control over it.”

  “So, what are you saying, Ash? That I cannot change? That I am so integrated into all we have done that it is like a symbiont that cannot be separated from its host?”

  “That is exactly what I am saying. I don’t believe either of us can ever return to what we once were, for we are no longer those individuals. We are not the same beings that stood outside of the Hall of the Arch Council, waiting for the signal to storm inside. We are not the same that stood condemned, waiting for the certainty of exile. We, Sir . . . we are the Fallen. We are those who remain.

  “We are divided, but we still can unite and not surrender this fight. If we surrender now, then all that we have done has been a waste; and all that we could do will never come to fruition. We can look at this as a chance to bow out or we can look at this as a chance to finally break out from the Abyss as a mighty force tha
t no one would have seen coming. Sir, this could be the tip of the spear.”

  The general said nothing. He listened intently to every word that his captain spoke. He could hear the heart of this leader. He understood it. It was true; they were warriors.

  The general contemplated. There may be some truth, also, to the statement that the Abyss had scorched his very existence. Was his weariness so strong that he could not fight, and this is why he had chosen to align with the Alliance? Ashmedai was correct in so much of what he said, but a good military leader also understood when to sacrifice for a battle that could be won and when to cut losses for a battle that still could be fought at a later time. The question that presented itself was which one was this moment . . . fight or surrender? He had been so sure of his move, and now he sat with the warrior again waking up inside of him.

  * * * * *

  Ann’s daughter ran right into her as she came running out of the upstairs hallway, around a corner, and down the stairs that her mother was coming up. She caught her daughter and quickly realized that she was shaking.

  “Sweetheart! What is wrong?”

  The little girl’s tears flowed down her face. Her body shook, and she refused to look up at her mom. She buried her face in the legs of her mother and just held on tightly. Ann knelt down, quietly moving the little girl’s locks out of her face and gently wiping away the tears.

  “Lada, what’s the matter?”

  Her daughter refused to talk. Her eyes, wide with fear, focused straight ahead, attempting to hold in each convulsive sob.

  “Momma, is Lada okay?”

  Ann looked up and saw her son standing at the top of the stairs. He had one hand on the railing, and his face was etched with genuine concern.

  “Yes, Lano. Did you do something to her?”

  “NO!” he raised his voice. “No! I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to be alone in my room, and she got mad.”

  “Is that true, Sweetheart?” she asked Lada. The little girl stood, staring straight ahead . . . not moving and not saying a word.

  “Lada!”

  Ann’s raised voice got a jolt reaction from her daughter, and the little girl appeared to come back to her senses. She nodded.

  “Lada, if your brother wants time alone, then you need to give it to him. You understand?”

  Lano’s sister turned and looked toward the top of the stairs at her brother. She shivered a little as her thoughts flashed back to the female voice, the argument, and the creepy bird. She was scared, but she was more scared of what would happen if she actually told her mother what she had witnessed. So, she kept that to herself.

  “I understand, Momma.”

  “You both go find something to do—together or separately, I don’t care—but I don’t want to hear any fighting!”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” they both replied.

  Ann stood somewhat puzzled as she witnessed her son go in one direction and her daughter in a different. She shrugged it off, looked down at her watch, and realized that night had sneaked up on her. She really could go for a shower . . . maybe a glass of wine . . . and just time to breathe. She knew in the next day or so she was not only going to have to deal with whatever was taking place with the Alliance, the Fallen, and this new team that had come together, but she was also going to have to face someone to whom she would have a lot of explaining to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Do we let anyone back home know what we are doing, Gabriel?” Nemamiah asked as she, Leah, and Gabriel sat on the closed-in porch of Eden. “Never has there been a time where every member of the Arch Council has been gone from Scintillantes, except for the Council of Shammah.”

  Gabriel had her eyes closed and was covered in a thick blanket. It seemed forever since she had relaxed under the atmosphere of the world of Mortals. She realized that she had missed it in a very strange way. She didn’t want to talk, think, or even plan. She found herself wanting to shut out everyone and everything and simply exist. She wondered why humans couldn’t just understand the power of being present in the moment. Sure, they wanted nothing more than to have an eternal paradise; but what they didn’t realize was that they were the cause of that paradise not being exactly where they were. If they could tune into the universe around them, they would find the connection was there, waiting to bring peace.

  “Is there any chance that we can just let all of this take place and we sit this one out?” the Archangel questioned as she opened one eye and looked at her counterparts. “Sure . . . it sounds harsh; but honestly, why do we keep doing all that we are doing?”

  She sat up and looked at the other two.

  “Why? What do we owe Mortals? All of us have been in existence before they came to be. We have fought and protected them from the very beginning . . . and for what? And don’t give me the ‘will of Jah’ standard answer! None of us can remember the last time anyone really understood what that means. We quote it all the time. It has been our rally cry for eons; and yet, here we are . . . exactly where we always seem to be . . . well, at least to where we have been heading all this time. Nothing has stopped this. What has all the loss, the fighting, the tragic events done? Nothing! We are still here . . . on the brink of war or extinction.”

  Nemamiah and Leah had no response. They sat stunned. What she was saying made sense, and there wasn’t a single one of them that hadn’t either thought the same or were thinking the same. Just to hear her actually voice the words was shocking, though.

  “So . . .” Nemamiah broke the awkward silence, “I hear you; and in a unique way, I understand you, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No, we don’t owe anyone anything. Our job as Council members has come to an end. There is no Council; and honestly, I wonder if we shouldn’t have realized that truth a long time ago. What is here is each of us. What is here is the understanding that we are each unique beings whose time maybe has come and gone . . . who knows? What I do know is that I have bought into the whole belief of Guardians, Messengers, Council Members, and Eternals and Mortals. I have played myself out on the game board of the existence of life itself, and somehow I was never told that we were playing a losing game.”

  “What are you saying, Gabriel?” Leah asked. Before the Angel could answer, the Vapor continued, “What I hear you saying is that everyone here at Eden and those at the Sanctum, who have looked up to you, respected you, and hope to follow you, have been blinded by your past actions and leadership . . . and speaking of being blind, they now have followed you blindly into something that you now are suggesting you no longer can stomach.”

  The Archangel fully sat up. The blanket with which she had covered up herself fell to lie in her lap. She wanted to verbally attack Leah, yet the words the Vapor spoke were poignant and full of truths to which Gabriel could not argue.

  So instead, she threw back some questions of her own: “Then tell me, Leah, have you not had the same questions? Wasn’t it the same questions that led you down the path to becoming what you are today? Aren’t questions like the ones I am sharing what made you constantly a thorn in our flesh? You, Leah, are not one to even begin to judge me and my feelings.”

  “No, maybe she cannot; but I can!” Nemamiah’s voice was full of controlled anger. “I have not only served beside you on the Council, but I have also stood beside you when you comforted scared children. I have fought beside you when you have stood against overwhelming odds in order to save one Mortal.”

  “Sure, you have. Did you do that for the Mortals or did you do that because you had my back?” Gabriel interjected.

  “Are you kidding me, Gabriel? Why are we doing this right now?” Nemamiah was so confused by the current status of her companion.

  “I really am not sure. I only know that I am done. Maybe all of this has opened my eyes: Metatron being held by Mantus; Michael betraying all in which we have believed; and then starting to wonder myself if we have bought into a lie ages ago . . . and in doing what we thought was expected, we have hu
rled ourselves toward the very thing we thought we were keeping from happening.”

  Leah hunched down into the big piece of patio furniture in which she was sitting and turned her head to watch the flames in the fireplace.

  “I get it, Gabriel. You are right; I have had the same questions. I have no idea what winning on a large scale feels like.

  “I look back at that moment when we watched the Persians storm the city of Babylon. We knew what Marduk had been doing. We were fully aware of the young Nephelium. Sure, we could have slaughtered all of them within the temple that night; but we chose to allow them to escape. We, through the ages, believed that the descendants of Rephaim would be the key to securing victory for mortal man and maybe even bring peace between us and them. Instead, I look back and see a chronological timeline of constant loss, destruction, pain, and winless battles. At what cost? To what end?

  “Trust me, Gabriel; I understand probably more than you. I have felt that call within my chest to stand as the Guardian of mortal man. I have marched through the ages of man, protecting one ward after another only to find myself, once again, watching the life source of another mortal or Jerusalem Breed vanish before my eyes, unable to do anything more than what I already have done.

  “That is the key, however. What if I had not? Sure, maybe we have marched forward with each step to this very moment. Maybe what we are facing now has been unavoidable; but if that is the case, then what if everything we have done has prepared us for this very moment, the moment when Eternals and Mortals join together to fight off the very vampiric leeches of the Fallen?

  “I can’t put past losses in the win column. I can’t guarantee that all of this has not been for nothing. What I can guarantee is that in the end, if we walk away now, if we just turn our backs on mortal man, then everything up to this point literally has been for nothing.”

  The Archangel ran her long fingers through her thick, blond hair. Why couldn’t they just let it go? She could sense death and destruction. As she attempted to tap into the threads of time, she saw nothing but a black curtain that appeared to be emblazoned with a dragon. The curtain was on fire, and she could hear the screams of the dying.