Heaven's Night

by Harry Aderton

  But my quest was not yet complete.

  In my infinite state, I reached out with my thoughts and focused them into a single purpose, reaching for a state of consciousness that would take me directly to the presence of the Divine beyond creation.

  My thoughts distilled. And then I was before Him.

  Instant love and acceptance overwhelmed me and my legs would have buckled under the sheer purity of it were I standing. In all humility and with complete faith, I mentally knelt before Divinity.

  God radiated around me and through me. I had never felt such peace. Such harmony. Words could not describe it. In utter surrender, my thoughts were speechless. Only my heart spoke and it uttered silent words of love. Over and over, my heart proclaimed its love for God and felt the love in return in endless, joyous waves. I was paralyzed by the bliss of it. I was no more than a babe cradled in the arms of my Father, my Divine Mother whispering sweet lullabies. I looked through the eyes of a child and I could only see my world, my whole meaning of existence, in the unfiltered and adoring gaze of my All looking back at me. It was perfection.

  My child, God pulsed in my mind. The voice was so familiar, as if it had been with me through eternity, for it had. It was so soft but so reassuring.

  “Father,” I mentally replied. “Forgive my intrusion.”

  In that moment, I realized how absurd my words were. There was no such thing as intrusion into God’s domain. There was no such thing as separation from God. I recalled sitting around the council table with my brothers and sisters and wondered if God would acknowledge my presence when I visited Him. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

  Was I so separated from my Father that I didn’t realize God always acknowledged my presence? How could I not believe He would welcome me with open arms if only I stepped into them? Why did I think God needed to summon me? I should have known all along I could visit at any time. It was up to me. It was always up to me.

  I felt God smile lovingly at me. I am always with you. Will always be with you.

  I smiled back. In that moment, I thought I would stay there forever. Only with Requel did I feel complete, but never as complete as I did in that moment with my Father. My thoughts shifted to Requel and I felt her instantly. I felt her terror.

  My smile vanished.

  Requel ran down a corridor, holding her babe in her arms. Her footsteps thundered on the cold stone floor.

  My perceptions were infinite. I felt the vibrations in the floor with her every step. I heard her wails of fear as she desperately clutched the babe to her chest. I smelled her terror. I tasted the vile anger, the hatred, pursuing her.

  I tensed. My state of bliss fractured.

  Stay with me, child, I heard God say.

  Requel ran on. The babe in her arms wailed. She turned a corner, whispering soothing words. Shouts chased her down the corridor. She flung open a door and slammed it closed, barring the door with a wooden cross brace.

  The door shuddered as heavy bodies slammed into it. Requel retreated into a corner opposite the door and slunk to the ground, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Stay away!” she screamed then sobbed, wrapping her arms more tightly around her child. She looked skyward and prayed.

  I heard it. It was like a cold knife in my heart. Help me, she wailed. I need you. Why won’t you help me?

  I trembled. My heart raced. I felt myself teetering as if I stood on the ledge of a towering height.

  “Please,” I begged God. “Save her. Don’t let them get her.”

  Have faith. Stay with me, child.

  The door splintered, a hand ripped through a section of wood. The hands, like a living shadow, reached in and lifted the cross bar.

  Requel, sobbing, hunched over the wailing child. “It’s alright,” she said, over and over to the babe. “You’ll be okay.”

  “Lord,” I pleaded. “Stop this! You must!”

  There was no response. Where was God? Where did He go?

  The door burst open and the shadows raced in, tossing aside the table and chairs as they closed in on her.

  “It’s over,” said one of the dark forms.

  Requel looked up at them, her eyes defiant. Then she looked skywards yet again, as if she were looking up at me. I heard three words. “I love you.”

  My vision of Requel faded. I screamed and felt myself slipping. “Lord, do something!”

  My vision whirled. I teetered, reaching out for something, anything, to grab on to. My sense of harmony was all but lost. I heard God speak but my mind could not hear the words through my growing despair. My thoughts returned to His last words.

  Stay with me, child.

  I calmed myself. Of course I would. How could I not? God would save Requel. I had faith. Everyone knew it. Of all the Archangels, I, Sariel, was the most faithful. That is why I was here, in His holy presence. That is why I had to stay the course and ask God what we should do about Lucifer. Once God told me, I would return to Michael, Gabriel, and the others and we would do God’s will. It would be all right …

  But what about Requel? Who would save her? My Requel …

  “Stop this,” I berated myself. “God will save her. He’ll fix this. He’ll fix everything.”

  I love you, she had said.

  “Enough!” Calm. Must stay calm. Must have faith.

  But she had spoken the words with such sorrow. Such finality. As if she were about to … die.

  I smiled then. I don’t know why. It wasn’t a joyous smile. It was born of sorrow. But it was all I had left.

  It was my last gesture to God.

  Stay with me, He had said. Have faith.

  I wanted to. With all my heart and will and strength, I wanted to.

  God reappeared. I felt him. I thought he may be angry with me because I despaired. But He wasn’t angry with me. He was my Father. He knew me better than I knew myself.

  He knew what I would do next. That is why He came back. One last gesture of love from Him.

  I turned away.

  Any state of Divine consciousness vanished like wisps of smoke. All that was left of the Divine Song was an echo that faded into nothing.

  I returned to the Causal and stood alone on a towering mountain peak.

  Requel …

  Despair curled around my heart and squeezed. The last image of her and her babe sobbing in the corner filled my mind.

  But then a white-hot anger seized me. An anger I had never felt. I threw my head back and shouted to the heavens with all my rage. Lightning crackled. Clouds boiled.

  I had to go to her. I had to save her. Nothing else mattered.

  And woe unto those who would harm her or her child! Let them tremble. Let them all tremble!

  If Lucifer wanted a war then I would rain destruction down on him the likes of which he had never seen!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Too late. I was too late …

  “I am Dirael,” said the angel warrior, filling up the doorway. “I am sorry for your loss but we must move quickly.”

  “Give me a moment,” I snapped angrily. He nodded and left.

  I stared numbly at the robe on the floor. All that remained of my beloved. I knelt, brushing my fingers against the soft cloth, finding my breathing labored and heavy. Inhaling deeply, I tried to force calm, but my eyes stung and my vision blurred.

  “Requel,” I said, the sound bursting forth like a broken sob. Another mournful cry came unbidden and I clenched my jaw against the ache of it. Pulling the cloth to my face, I buried my eyes as unbidden sobs expelled in an uncontrolled release.

  Again and again I wept her name, rocking gently back and forth until the tears lessened and the dull pressure in my chest eased to that of a collapsed mountain. I remained thus, I don’t know how long, until I heard my companion shuffle uneasily outside the door.

  Clearing my throat, I stood, still clutching the robe. Something small fell to the floor.

  By my feet lay a necklace of stone beads. I had fashioned it mys
elf eons ago; it had been one of my few attempts to create something by my own hand instead of my will. I reached down and carefully picked it up.

  I had thought Requel tossed this thing away ages ago and I was glad for it. The flaws in the beads were spectacular, discolored and mismatched in size. I couldn’t even get the holes lined up correctly. Worst of all was the star I had crafted as the pendant. A dull thing no bigger than a thumbnail that looked like a five pointed star surrounded by a halo, but only if I blurred my eyes. If I didn’t, it resembled nothing more than a rock pried from the sole of one’s shoe. It was hideous.

  I cradled it in my hands. In that moment it was priceless. She knew I was loathe to see this thing and I had asked her to toss it away. She had kept it in secret and wore it under her robes. My Requel.

  I wrapped the necklace around my right wrist, fastening it securely. As I did so, my tears ceased. The emptiness inside began to fill instead with a hungry rage. It was not a hot anger. No, that would not do. I did not want it to flare then burn itself out. It needed to linger, a constant reminder of what was taken from me. It needed to be cold and vast like the ocean depths. She deserved that much. And so much more.

  Gently folding the robe, I placed it back on the floor. I spoke a silent farewell and stepped outside the room.

  “Where is the child?” I asked Dirael, more forcefully than I had intended.

  “Come, I will take you to one who knows. We will tell you everything once we leave this sphere.”

  “No. Tell me now.”

  “Please, we must hurry. The fallen have not yet stormed this place because they fear you but that will not last much longer. We don’t have much time.”

  Reluctantly, I followed him to an opening that led outside. Hovering in the air, a small group of angels gathered. I counted six in all including my new companion.

  “They are coming, we must travel quickly.” Dirael launched into the sky and stretched his wings. The group of angels sped after.

  In the far distance, the remaining fallen had gathered together like a storm and were indeed rolling towards us.

  I leapt into the air, unfolded my wings, and mentally summoned my chariot. It roared towards me, the fiery steeds huffing and snorting flames. The chariot intercepted my path and I stepped into it. Gathering the reins, I followed the small group.

  After a short flight, Dirael slowed, his wings beating gently and bowed his head in deep concentration. I felt his will in the ether struggling to open a portal. The storm of fallen swept towards us.

  “Hurry,” I said. “They approach quickly.”

  “I can’t open it by myself. There is too much chaos here, the energies are too dense. I need help. Quickly, gather round me and feed me your strength.”

  The others gathered around their leader, I stayed back. Within the ether, I saw and sensed their life energies, or prana, flowing into Dirael.

  It flowed like hundreds of strands of silver threads. But unlike silver, prana was very much alive, being the intelligent life force in each one of us. Prana was the life force of God that saturated and sustained the heavens and all the planes. It was the intelligent forces throughout the universe that caused a heart to pump, lungs to breathe, worlds to spin, planets to orbit a star. It was spirit, it was creation, and it was energy. It was life itself. It filled the warrior angel.

  Dirael, saturated with prana like a sponge full of water, focused on the air before him. It shimmered and rippled like a reflection. But what it reflected was not the skyscape on this sphere but something much darker and sinister on the other side.

  The angels broke their pranic connection with their leader and plunged into the shimmering air as if diving into a black pool.

  Dirael moved to enter. He paused when he saw I had no intention of following him.

  “Please, you must trust me,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Where does it go?” My steeds snorted and stamped in reaction to my growing suspicion. The fallen were close. I could hear their screeches even above the howling winds. Still, I would rather face them than be led into a trap.

  “It goes to the second sphere,” he said nervously, eyeing the looming fallen.

  “The second sphere? That’s deeper into Lucifer’s domain!”

  “You said you wanted information on the child. Then follow me. It’s the only way.” With that, he darted through the shimmer and vanished.

  Warily, I snapped the reins and followed.

  * * *

  I plunged into darkness and pulled up sharply. Dirael quickly sealed the portal behind us.

  My heart fell as I took in the scenery. As before, I was not prepared for how much had changed. Cast in a permanent twilight, the second sphere reminded me of the physical plane where I had witnessed the eruption of violent and towering volcanoes vomiting soot and smoke into the ether.

  Judging by the persistent ash in the air, my recollection was not too far off. Everywhere I looked, I saw jutting mountains in various shades of gray like phantoms hovering above a field of the dead.

  Even the light emanating from my chariot could not pierce the gloom. It revealed nothing more than small motes of dust and debris floating on unseen currents. Still, the others huddled close to my chariot like children around a campfire. The air smelled of death, like rotting flesh and offal, as if the land itself was a corpse.

  Once, not so long ago, my gaze would have met rolling hills and long rippling waves of grass as if God swept His fingers across the deep greens. Meadows harbored islands of wildflowers that danced in the breeze, every sway of their petals revealing a different, colorful tint like shifting rainbows. Their vibrant blossoms dressed the wind with lush fragrances and the exquisite scents could warm the heart like a fond memory.

  The second sphere was once a home to those committed to speaking, sharing, and studying God’s truths. The virtuous and the curious dwelled here and they reflected the simplicity of this sphere’s beauty.

  “Come,” said Dirael, snapping me out of my reverie. “It’s not far.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. His name is Iobel. He knows of the child.”

  I smiled in recollection. Iobel was an angel of the Cherubim order. And since all angelic names were unique, there was no mistaking him. A more gentle soul I could not remember.

  “I see that you’ve heard of him,” said Dirael, noticing my reaction. “That isn’t surprising. He’s a great warrior.”

  My eyebrows rose at the comment but I did not reply. A great warrior? I could not picture him so. But who was I to judge? Yesterday, I would not have expected to be armored for war today. “Lead on.”

  We soared over the dreary landscape. Twin volcanic mountains jutted ahead of us, their bases melded together as if conjoined at birth.

  “Our destination is just beyond those peaks.” Dirael pointed straight ahead.

  “When did all of this happen?” I asked, gesturing to the bleak and scarred landscape.

  “Does it matter?” he replied sharply. “Everything is destroyed.”

  “It matters to me. I remember this sphere fondly. I spent much time here.”

  The hardness in his eyes softened. “That was rude of me. Forgive me. It’s been over forty years since the volcanoes erupted. And it still angers me. It should not have happened. We had already surrendered. But Lucifer wanted to make an example of this sphere so he destroyed it. Such a waste.”

  “I am sorry,” I said softly. I hadn’t known the devastation was this bad. But then, I had never looked. Guilt tore at me.

  “Who are you?” asked Dirael. “I have lived here for centuries and I would have remembered you, I think.”

  “My name is Sariel,” I said, looking into his eyes for signs of recognition. I found none. That wasn’t surprising. Of the Archangels, only Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, perhaps even Raphael were well known. The others, myself included, not nearly so much.

  “Your name soun
ds familiar but I cannot place it. What order are you from?”

  “It’s of no consequence.”

  “But it is! You turned the battle today.”

  “I turned nothing,” I growled. “The fallen still won.”

  “But they feared you.”

  “And it still accomplished nothing.”

  “I heard the fallen refer to you as a Seraph. If we could get others of your order to join in our cause-”

  “And what cause is that!” I snapped, more loudly than I intended. In that moment, his fervor sounded too much like Requel’s, and my guilt was already difficult to bear.

  “To repel this evil!” Dirael shot back. “Look around you. Can you not see?” The other angels slowed to hear the conversation.

  “I do see, Dirael, and it sickens me. I have made a choice to do what I can to stop this madness but I will do it alone. I will not gather others to do my bidding or try to sway others to my will. I fight for my own reasons. Mine is not for liberation of the spheres or for an ideological cause – it’s far simpler than that. I have sworn to my beloved that I would save her child. That is the only reason I am here.”

  Dirael nodded gravely. “It is enough.”

  We passed between twin peaks of spitting soot and bleeding lava before banking towards a sheer cliff face. Dirael held out a silver disk and flashed it twice then twice more. The rock face moved aside as if a curtain had been pulled open. Dirael quickly ushered us through.

  We entered a vast cavern. Two dozen angels heaved the great stone gate closed behind me. The air was clean in here as if pumped in and filtered. Gone were the soot and the dreariness casting a shroud over all. Torches hung on the walls and sconces lined the floor while candlelit chandeliers hung from mighty stalactites high above.

  A refugee camp sprawled before me. It filled the vast chamber, occupying every empty space imaginable and, when space was no longer available, rose upwards on tiered levels of wood and scaffolding. It climbed towards the ceiling in a mosaic of structures – squat buildings, open-roofed huts, enclosures made of planks and fabric, and fragile lean-tos. Most were stacked haphazardly, more often than not precariously balanced, and stretched all the way back towards the rear of the cavern.