by August Arrea
“Keep moving straight ahead,” Damiel’s voice came from behind.
“I’m trying, but it’s pitch dark and I can’t see where I’m going,” said Jacob.
With baby steps, he carefully shuffled forward waiting for the inside of the tree to quickly come up against his face. Yet as he felt blindly about him, there was nothing but empty space that met his hands.
“There’s something strange going on inside here,” said Jacob.
He then caught a glimmer of light shining down from somewhere above, and the darkness gave way to reveal the first step to what appeared to be a staircase.
“Follow the stairs,” Damiel, whose voice rang out right behind the boy, instructed.
Jacob found himself wondering how someone as big and brawny as the angel had managed to fit through the hollow of the tree when he, himself, found it to be a squeeze. Yet he did what Damiel instructed and began climbing the steps, and he found himself moving up a spiral staircase. Around and around it wound, and upward it rose, far higher it felt to Jacob than he remembered the tree being. Yet the bark-textured walls beneath his fingers as he felt his way through the dimly lit darkness and the deep musky scent of wood told him he was, indeed, still moving through the inside of the tree. As Jacob neared the top of the stairs, he found the wolf who had somehow slipped past him during the climb already there sitting patiently. And beyond the wolf a magnificent space came into view making Jacob suddenly take pause. For a moment, Jacob thought he had stepped into a grand foyer belonging inside the walls of a palace in some far-away country. Everything was made of wood intricately carved and polished to a rich sheen beginning with two massive pillars Jacob and Damiel had to step past to enter the large circular foyer. Two more pillars stood at the foot of a pair of grand, winding staircases also shaped from wood with ornately crafted rails. They led to a second-floor balcony framed behind a row of elegant archways. And bathing everything in a soft inviting glow of light was what at first glance looked to be a large elegant chandelier hanging in the center of the foyer. A closer look, however, revealed it to be not a physical chandelier, but delicate orbs of light carefully arranged to offer the appearance of a chandelier and somehow magically held adrift.
“Welcome to Havenhid!” said Damiel.
Havenhid.
Jacob repeated the name quietly in his head several times, and as he did he quickly came to realize no place had ever been christened with a more appropriate name. Slowly, he pivoted on his feet trying impossibly to glance at everything surrounding him all at one time. Where there should have been physical walls to enclose the fantastic structure he found himself inside, he instead saw branches and leaves, only the branches had somehow come together to form beautiful archways leading to terraces overlooking the Garden below. They were indeed up in the tree tops, and it was then Jacob realized the source of the lights he had seen coming from inside the trees when he approached them. And he felt his mouth beginning to open and form the first word to the question poised on his tongue: “How is this possible?” However, he quickly retreated from asking it when he suddenly recalled the words Gotham had offered him before he was given his first glimpse of Eden.
“Allow yourself to accept something other than the finite realm of the world we’ve left behind. Only then will you be able to see Eden as it truly is.”
Then he heard Damiel beckon to him. “There will be plenty of time for you to explore your new surroundings, but now we really must continue to the Hall of Light.”
Jacob followed Damiel through a large archway past the winding staircase. It led to a long corridor which they hurriedly made their way along. The hall stretched long and far; more so, Jacob surmised, than what could physically be contained within the tree tops. And all along the passage there were many doors, and Jacob found himself wondering what laid behind each one they passed. Then after many turns, the corridor came to an end before a towering set of doors.
“Come, quietly,” instructed Damiel as he pushed one of the heavy doors ajar. A smattering of applause spilled into the corridor from within, and Jacob slipped inside with his wolf companion following close at his side. All the while Jacob tried to keep focused on Gotham’s words which continued to reverberate inside his head, but there was nothing to prepare him for what came into view on the other side of the door.
~~~
The Hall of Light, as he had heard it referred to several times, was more like an Old-World cathedral, monumental in size and opulent beyond all imaginings. Like the rest of Havenhid, the large rectangular-shaped nave was made completely of wood intricately shaped and ornamented with beautiful carvings. Several large columns in the form of angels lined the way, each carved with their heads bowed and swords gripped in their hands before their chests with the blades pointing toward the floor. They stood guard along both sides of a long table stretching nearly the length of the room and divided into two halves to create an aisle in between. Seated on the outside of each table were at least four dozen boys looking to be the same age as Jacob. Above them, more chandeliers of floating light bathed the Hall with an almost magical illumination.
“This is impossible,” whispered Jacob to himself, finally choosing to ignore Gotham’s voice. “Eden or not, this is impossible.”
The gleeful smile fixed upon his face belied his astonished declaration of doubt. He could see the construction of the angel-lined colonnade had been meticulously formed by the living branches of the surrounding trees, and sneaking a peek through one of the open arched bay windows it was clear to him from the view they were still up in the tree tops. Impossibly the cathedral-like monolith in which he stood resided in the tree tops, and hidden no less. Havenhid and the trees, he came to realize, were one and the same. Even more improbable was Jacob’s growing ability—slow as it was to come—to step outside the mortal boundaries within his mind to accept such an impossibility for what it was—an unbelievable marvel. Because here, somehow, slowly, the unbelievable was becoming believable.
Recognizing the familiar dumbstruck state he had seen in the faces of other boys brought into the Hall for the first time, Damiel leaned down to whisper in Jacob’s ear.
“Try not to wet yourself.”
“I’m afraid it might be too late,” said Jacob jokingly, and yet not. “Shhhh…Anahel is about to speak,” noted Damiel motioning to the front of the Hall where all attention seemed to be held.
“Who’s Anahel?” asked Jacob.
“He’s one of the guards of the Gates of the West Wind, the prince of angels of the Third Heaven, and the one who presides over Eden,” answered Damiel.
At the same time Damiel spoke came Anahel’s introduction to the other boys seated in the great room in words closely echoing the angel’s, and another wave of applause rang out through the Hall. Jacob strained his eyes to the front of the Hall anxious to catch a glimpse of the angel who held such importance. There, before a towering wall of stained glass sparkling brilliantly with color within a frame of rich wood, Anahel slowly rose from his high-back chair and came around the long table he shared with four other angels.
At first glance, Jacob expected an angel who held such esteemed authority to be older than what Anahel appeared. The memory of his time at the church on Akdamar Island, however, was quick to flash in his mind and he was reminded of Johiel and the timeless mold in which angels were cast. Which is not to say Anahel didn’t appear the princely angelic figure he was. Even from the far end of the vast hall, Jacob could see Anahel possessed the magisterial great height and stature as Gotham and Damiel. And while he wore a loose tunic-like shirt, rich blue in color and specifically tailored to his back to leave free his folded wings, it was evident through the thin fabric and the way it hung open across his torso he also possessed a powerful warrior-like build. His face, ageless and beautiful, was equally as striking in the great authority and dignity it possessed; his hair fell to his shoulders and held both a wisp of curl and the color of sunlight; his golden eyes were bright and fearless; and wh
en he stood upon the dais looking out across the gathered Nephilim and opened his mouth to speak, his voice took a commanding reign over the Hall.
“Now that you all have been sufficiently fed and have gotten to know one another a little better, I would now like to take this opportunity to formally receive all of you in what will be your home for the coming months. Welcome to Havenhid, and more importantly welcome to your place in a family whose roots reach back many millennia.”
Anahel’s words drew more applause of excitement from the boys.
“Tonight begins a profound moment for each of you, for it marks the start of a blessed journey. In many respects, it will be a rebirth. And as I take a quick look at all of you who have come from all walks of life and from every corner of the civilian world, I am reminded of the countless faces who have passed through Eden’s Gate under my watch and have sat in the chairs you now occupy. And I dare say I believe I may be looking at what could be the strongest flock to have yet graced this sacred hall,” said Anahel to again more applause, this time with swaggering cheers.
Jacob listened intently as Anahel spoke, but his eyes continued to wander about the Hall with continuing fascination. He especially found himself captivated by the vaulted ceiling looming high above him. Particularly since just a few moments earlier before Anahel began speaking Jacob recalled seeing open sky in place of the ceiling. Queerly, he noticed the many limbs of the trees beginning to stir the darker it drew outside. As the sun faded and the stars began bejeweling the night sky, the branches began to come together, like a flower closing itself inside its pedals. And as the branches formed a canopy overhead, the limbs intertwined with one another in an inexplicable way to form the intricate arch work of the vaulted ceiling. Even more impressive, as the ceiling was formed so, too, was revealed decoratively painted murals of images taken from the books of Genesis and Revelation chronicling the Creation and Fall of man and the Second Coming. They reminded Jacob of the images he had seen inside the church on Akdamar Island, only much more elaborate and detailed, and untouched by the ravages of time. And while the images didn’t appear to move like those at Akdamar—at least at the moment he was looking up at them—the many kinds of birds depicted inside the paintings did. Not only did they move, but they had the ability to fly at will in and out of the murals, and transforming back and forth between painted images and flesh and blood creatures as they did.
From the dais, Anahel continued with his speech: “I will not lie and tell you your stay here will mirror your paradise surroundings. With every birth, there is labor. And the road before each of you will at times prove challenging. Luckily, I have a team of teachers here to see you through those challenges. They are what remain of a band of angels known as Watchers, unnamed or mentioned in history except within these hallowed walls, who stood steadfast and loyal in their service in the shadow of their Fallen brethren. Long ago, they were sent to the mortal world to enlighten the fathers and mothers of mankind with the tools necessary to wade their way through the hardships of mortal life. Here, you will come to know them as your Guides, for they will guide you with the tools necessary for you to exist as Nephilim. What you end up doing with those tools will ultimately be of your own choosing.”
He then turned to the long table behind him where three figures were quietly seated dressed in open tunic-like shirts of differing colors similar to that worn by Anahel. One by one, they rose to their feet with an air of gallantry as Anahel introduced them.
First, there was Zuriel. His face, while sculpted with pleasant features, held an intimidating coldness made more pronounced by a mane of long hair as black as the feathers of a raven’s wing. The long shiny locks held numerous braids secured by a long vine of emerald green ivy.
“Many of you undoubtedly are already aware of the unique and special cache of abilities gifted to Nephilim upon their birth. From Zuriel, you will come to learn those things that set you apart from ordinary civilian boys, and more importantly help you tap into those talents, and strengthen those gifts.”
Next was Thaniel. Rare amongst angels, his light curled tresses had been shorn short to the scalp, giving his already ageless face an even more youthful appearance. And yet a far-reaching depth of wisdom emanated from his visage giving him a distinguished maturity as well. So it was no surprise when Anahel revealed his forte.
“From Thaniel, you will learn the history from which you came, both your mortal side as well as non-mortal. As well, you will be educated in everything you need to know about the dark forces which plague our existence and seek the destruction of the Light. For without knowledge, no amount of power will provide you with a weapon sturdy enough to do battle against them,” said Anahel.
Then there was Eksel. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood proud and powerful like a warrior fresh off the battlefront. His piercing gold-lit eyes staring out from behind his fearless exterior seemingly dared just one of the Nephilim he looked down upon to conjure the courage to meet his gaze with their own.
“Without question, I’m sure it is safe to guess most of you are anxious to learn to fly,” said Anahel.
The answer from the boys came in a resounding chorus of enthusiastic cheers.
Anahel nodded knowingly while motioning for a return to silence. “From Eksel, you will learn how to take the skies. But I must forewarn you, one’s coming into wings is not absolute, despite how your back may appear in its physicality. It is something each one of you will discover is earned, and as such not certain.”
As Eksel sank back into his seat, Anahel’s eyes fell upon the empty chair beside him.
“Finally, you will be lessoned in the art of combat,” he continued. “And when the time comes you will each be gifted with a special sword. Unfortunately, for reasons lost to me, the one tasked with this duty doesn’t appear to be with us at the moment.”
“I’m here,” a voice rang out turning all heads in unison toward the back of the Hall. It came from Damiel and, as he made his way toward Anahel, all eyes turned to follow him.
“Forgive me. I’ve spent the day walking from the shore.”
“Walking from the shore?” echoed Anahel with confusion. “Strange time to embark on such an excursion with Havenhid brimming with our newly arrived guests.”
“I was escorting a late arrival.”
“Oh, I see.” Anahel turned his gaze toward the back of the Hall. “Well, by all means bring him forward for a proper introduction.”
Damiel glanced at Jacob over his shoulder and, with visible hesitation, motioned for the boy to come forward.
~~~
Jacob could feel the weight of curious eyes upon him as he made his way between the divided table where the gathering of boys sat. Their whispers to one another could not escape his keen hearing. Ahead, the golden glare of the Guides’ eyes focused hard on him, particularly Anahel’s, and Jacob took comfort with the presence of his wolf companion who remained close to his side. And as Jacob drew closer, he found himself growing more and more self-conscious when he suddenly noticed the same odd look that came to Johiel and Damiel when they first laid eyes on him had continued its trend, this time with Anahel.
The whispers grew, now amongst the other three Guides, and they became louder with a growing urgency with every advancing step Jacob took causing an uncomfortable nervousness to rise up inside the boy. Once at Damiel’s side, he found settled upon Anahel’s face a strange expression of recognition he somehow wished was not there.
“This would be Jacob Parrish,” said Damiel as though he was braced for an unfavorable response from his introduction. It was an almost peculiar timidness Jacob never would have expected to come from such an unflinching tower of strength as one deemed Angel of the Sword.
A most awkward silence followed. Jacob gathered his wits and with a muster of confidence he pushed past the inquisitive stare boring into him and held out his hand to Anahel. At first Anahel continued to look down at the boy and kept his hand to his side. It came almost as a rel
ief to Jacob when Eksel suddenly jumped to his feet and broke the silence by bellowing loudly: “Am I actually witnessing what is taking place before our very eyes in the light of this sacred Hall?”
“SILENCE!” Anahel’s voice rumbled through the Hall like a crack of thunder. And when the instant flash of anger had swept from his face as quickly as it burst into sight, he turned a kind yet still cautiously suspicious eye back to Jacob and finally took hold of the boy’s hand in a warming grasp.
“Welcome, Jacob Parrish,” said Anahel in a tone which made Jacob question the sincerity of the spoken sentiment. “You must forgive Eksel’s outburst. Your arrival here tonight is, shall we say…unexpected, for lack of a better word.”
“It’s okay,” replied Jacob still somewhat nervously. “I didn’t know until only a few days ago I was coming myself.”
“Is that so?” Then casting upon Damiel a sterner, less welcoming look Anahel asked, “Tell me Damiel, I saw you in the Garden as late as early this morning. And I can see all too clearly that even if you had come upon some untold magic which lends to creating a full-grown child in a single afternoon, this particular one was not brought forth by you. So explain, if you will, how is it this Fledgling came to be in your charge?”
Damiel opened his mouth to answer, but it was Gotham’s voice that made itself heard. “The boy is not in his charge, but mine. It is I who have brought him here.”
A gasp of surprise greeted the sight of the angel standing just inside the threshold of the great Hall as the large arching doors slowly swung shut behind him. Gotham’s steps echoed heavily as he made his way past the table of wide-eyed Nephilim rendered silent by the intimidating presence moving past them.
