Heaven's Night

by Harry Aderton

  A deep silence fell and all movement ceased as thousands of eyes peered down at me from doorways, windows, terraces, and wooden walkways. I pulled my chariot to a stop. My fiery steeds snorted and pawed.

  I removed my sword belt slowly, to show I meant no harm, and laid it on the chariot floor before stepping down. Excited whispers swept through the angelic masses.

  “Welcome!” A figure walked towards me, his inviting grin betrayed by the distrust in his eyes.

  I almost didn’t recognize Iobel, such was the change in him. His hair had receded into a balding pate. His once glowing face, so full of warmth and instant laughter, was lost in the haggard face staring hard at me. He wore a leather breastplate with shoulder guards, a cingulum belt, and leather greaves with studs of bronze. His hand rested on the hilt of a sword belted at his waist.

  I smiled warmly despite his chilly reception. “If only we could meet in happier times, my old friend.”

  Iobel stopped in mid-stride. “Do I know you?”

  I pulled off my helmet and tucked it under one arm. “Granted, I’m wearing armor and garbed for war but I haven’t changed so much that you shouldn’t recognize your old friend and mentor.”

  Iobel’s eyes grew wide in recognition. “Sariel?”

  “The very same.”

  “Sariel!” he boomed, laughing and stepping in to hug me fiercely, almost lifting me off the ground. “Just look at you! My but you’re a welcome sight.”

  “Indeed he is, my lord,” broke in Dirael. “If not for Sariel, we would have all perished. We are indebted to him.”

  “But how came you there?” Iobel asked me. “Does this mean you and the others have come from your lofty perch to help us?”

  “He was the only Seraph there, sir,” said Dirael. “No others were needed. He turned them back all by himself. We all witnessed it and we have never seen its like. I knew Seraphim were powerful but I had no idea before today.”

  “My dear Dirael, Sariel is no Seraph,” said Iobel. “He is Archangel.”

  Dirael’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. A clamor rippled outwards. The angels that had accompanied me stared at me in awe.

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Perhaps we can retire to private quarters, my friend. There is much we need to discuss.”

  “Of course. Right this way.” Iobel stretched out his wings, rose gently, and glided to the rear of the cavern. I followed.

  Angels parted from our path, their eyes alight, hands clasped together as if in prayer. I felt their hopes wash over me, their strength renewed. Where I passed, angels gathered in my wake. They roused themselves from the refugee quarters to catch a glimpse of me. Their faces shown as if they reflected the sun.

  I wanted to vomit.

  I felt sick to my soul as I waded through their hope.

  Could they not see what I had become? I was a fraud. I was here, not by God’s will, but because of my own weakness. I was simply another fallen. Worse, I was a fallen Archangel.

  Archangels were the ideal model, what others aspired to. But I had used my Holy power, given to our Archangelic order by the grace of God to be used as instruments of His will, not to heal and teach but to kill and destroy.

  A more decrepit and despicable thing I could not fathom. I was no better than Sammael or Mephistophiel.

  Yet these souls looked to me as if I were a savior. How could they? I failed them. If I had been stronger in that moment, I would have cried out the truth – that I was not worthy of their reverence. That I was less than all of them combined.

  But I had not the strength to do even that.

  So I endured their adoration like whips to my soul.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What do you know of the child?” I asked Iobel.

  Iobel sat in a chair against a wall in a makeshift room. The chamber was nothing more than the squat end of a wayward tunnel that branched from the rear of the main cavern. A rod and curtain hung across the entrance, offering a semblance of privacy. Books and rolls of parchment lay strewn across a slab of stone that served as a desk. A straw pallet, wrapped with two thick blankets, sat against the back wall. A small shelf hung over the bed and held two candles that shed a comfortable amount of light.

  “I know very little, I’m afraid,” said Iobel. “There have been rumors for some time about a baby born in the lower spheres. You can imagine the excitement it generated. A new soul had never been created before, to my knowledge. God must have a special purpose for him. The babe became a rallying point of hope for some. Others saw him as a future deliverer, a future general to help us fight back. After all, why would God create a new soul and place him in the lower spheres, right in the middle of Lucifer’s domain, if not to help those trapped here?”

  “You don’t sound very convinced.”

  “I’m not. But like I said, he was a symbol for hope. I don’t need to believe it so long as others do. If I had the babe then I could rally others to my cause. I could get the higher orders to listen to me, to our plight.”

  “So you sent Dirael to the seventh sphere to find this babe?”

  Iobel nodded. “To find the babe and his mother was worth it, or so I thought. Now I’m not so sure. We lost many today and we gained nothing.” He paused, then looked up and flashed me a grin. “Well perhaps we gained something after all. You’re here now.”

  “Hardly a fair trade.”

  “So why are you interested in the babe?”

  “He’s my son.”

  Iobel’s eyes widened. “Then you must know the reason for his existence. You must know how he can help us –”

  “No,” I interrupted, holding up my hands. “I know nothing. Less than nothing. The baby was placed in Requel’s care. I went to rescue her. I failed. The babe is in the hands of the fallen now. Do you know where they would have taken him?”

  He shook his head. “Not even remotely. I’m sorry, my friend, but I fear the worst for him and I cannot imagine he is still among the living.”

  “I refuse to believe that.”

  “Why would they keep him alive?”

  “Because he has to be!” I cried. “He’s all that remains of my beloved Requel.”

  “My apologies,” mumbled Iobel, looking away. “I liked Requel immensely. I will miss her.”

  “You speak as if she’s gone forever. She is a soul, created in the image of God. Since when can souls die? I saw her astral body vanish before my eyes but that doesn’t mean she is gone. She must be somewhere.”

  “Perhaps she is,” said Iobel, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

  I threw him a sidelong glance. “Come now, Iobel. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something from me. What do you know about all this?”

  “Fragments really. But I’ll show you what I do know.” He rose and pulled back the curtain. Dirael stood twenty feet away, hands clasped behind his back. Iobel called him over. “Please find Mirabel and bring her here.” Dirael bowed and hurried away.

  “While we wait, I’d offer you some refreshments but I’m afraid our stores are nearly dried up.”

  “Not surprising. What you have done here is impressive, Iobel. You’ve managed to keep these refugees safely tucked away in this cavern far from fallen eyes.”

  He closed the curtain and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. “Not for much longer. I’m afraid our antics on the seventh sphere won’t go unnoticed this time. The fallen will find us for certain now.” He paused and looked me in the eyes. “I will need your help, my old friend.”

  “Of course. Perhaps it’s best then to move these angels to the higher spheres before the fallen arrive.”

  Iobel paused in mid-stride, clenching his fists, his face anguished. “That is impossible, Sariel. I can’t reach the higher spheres any longer. I can’t even reach the third. I can only open a portal into this sphere or to the first. I can’t even communicate with my brethren in the higher spheres.”

  “Then how did you send Dirael and the others
to the seventh?”

  He smiled. “That was a unique occurrence which will not happen again, unfortunately. I will tell you of it after you have seen Mirabel. Trust me, the higher spheres are closed to us.”

  I pursed my lips in thought. Even in the Causal, I had heard how the war can affect a soul’s astral body. Just as extreme cold freezes a liquid into a solid, the negative vibrations of the ravaged spheres paralyzes and hardens the subtle vibrations of an astral body. It could take days, or weeks, but the exposure eventually turns the astral body dense. When this happens, one loses the ability to ascend to a higher, more subtle sphere.

  It happened to Requel when I met her on the tenth, the highest sphere she could ascend to. The fact that Iobel, a Cherubim, who is only lesser than Seraphim in the holy angelic order, could no longer ascend at all was troubling indeed.

  “Iobel, how long have you been down here?”

  “Sixteen years.”

  I leaned backwards, stunned.

  “It has been long years, too,” said Iobel, noticing my reaction. “Look at us, reduced to hiding like rats in a cave. It all started with this war. Creation is changing. And we’re caught in the middle. Look at us! You and I, we’re armored for war. Why should that even be? We were peaceful souls once. And now we fight and we die.” He paused, taking a deep breath, calming himself. “Do you know how I came to be trapped here?”

  “No.”

  “I was sent to evaluate the lower spheres so I could report back on the effects of the war. Can you believe that? The effects of the war as if it were an experiment or a natural phenomenon.”

  I could believe it. We had viewed the war with equal curiosity and indifference in the Causal.

  He pointed a trembling finger towards the main cavern. “Those souls out there are not experiments! They’re not animals to be observed as if they roamed the physical plane. They are living, breathing, manifestations of God. If I didn’t help them, then who would have?

  “I gathered those who needed help in ones and twos. I fed them, protected them. The group grew. Others trickled in. Before I knew it, I had a refugee camp. Word spread quietly. Warriors came next, but not enough. I decided to train those who could fight.

  “After all, are not the Cherubim renown for our courage, our prowess with spear and bow? Well I ask you, where is the courage of my brethren who sit so high in the heavens and care not one wit that these souls are in peril?

  “Do you understand now? Do you understand why I did what I had to do? Can you not see that I had no choice?”

  I shook my head numbly. I had never heard Iobel speak so. I was saddened by his words but I felt the raw meaning behind them. He needed me to understand him. He needed me to hear his confession. He was looking for absolution from a higher soul.

  That, I couldn’t give him. I had none to give myself.

  “I cannot absolve you,” I said softly.

  “Why?” he sobbed in anguish.

  “Because we are both fallen now. We are both damned.”

  His shoulders fell and he slumped back into his stool. “It matters little at this point, I suppose. It’s only a matter of time before they find us. We cannot stand against them.”

  “Perhaps we won’t need to. If you could take them to a higher sphere, where would you go?” It was true that an astral body bogged down with dense vibrations could not travel to a higher sphere on one’s own volition. But if someone else opened a portal, then that was another matter entirely.

  Hope flared in his eyes. “Do you still have access to the higher spheres?”

  “Where, Iobel? Where would you take them?”

  “To the ninth. There is a mighty fortress there that is all but abandoned. It was Cherubim stronghold and training ground once. I would take them there.”

  “The ninth is a paradise, no question, but will it be safe? Why not to a higher sphere? Why not the fourteenth, or even the sixteenth?”

  “Because I don’t think my flock can reach that high. This war has changed us, of that I have no doubt. Even Dirael told me the seventh sphere was difficult for many of my warriors who were sent there. They felt the subtle vibrations there and it almost undid them. Some felt their bodies burn as if they were aflame. I don’t believe our bodies are used to the ethereal vibrations of the higher spheres anymore. But the ninth could work. It would be painful to some, and a few may even perish, but the majority could make it. The ninth is also untouched by Lucifer. It would give us hope.”

  “And you, my friend? What would you do there?”

  “I would gather an army. I would defend it to the last. In the ninth, I could talk to my brethren and some of the other orders and convince them to help us. I know it!”

  I nodded. “Very well, Iobel. I will open the doorway.”

  He fell to his knees. “Thank you,” he said, reaching forward to clasp my legs.

  “There will be none of that,” I said, kneeling with him. “We will see your flock to safety, my friend. I swear it.” Gently, I pulled him to his feet.

  Iobel brushed the dirt from his knees, and nodded. “I’ll go tell the others to prepare. Word will spread quickly. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

  * * *

  Iobel returned with a young, demure angel by his side. She had raven black hair that fell down to her waist and she wore a shift the color of sky blue. “Sariel, this is Mirabel,” he said.

  I stared, aghast. She had no wings. “What manner of butchery is this?” I whispered.

  Mirabel shot me a hard look then averted her eyes just as quickly. I sensed her humiliation, her embarrassment emanating in waves. She backed away, trying to retreat out of the room.

  “Do not be afraid, young one,” said Iobel. “Sariel is a friend.”

  “What happened to your wings?” I asked stepping forward. I focused my mind and viewed her aura. To my dismay, I could see only the merest outline of her form as if traced with light no thicker than hairsbreadth. I had never seen the like.

  “I do not know, my lord,” she said softly, her eyes never straying from her feet as she hugged herself. “When I awoke, I did not have them.”

  “Do you remember anything, child?” Iobel asked kindly.

  “No, my lord. I awoke like this in one of the abandoned villages, then I traveled here with some others. I don’t recall anything beforehand.”

  “Okay child. You may go,” said Iobel.

  “Wait, please,” I said. “Mirabel, I’d like to touch your mind, if I may. I will stay away from your thoughts, I promise. This won’t hurt but it will allow me to sense things that may be hidden from you.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “I don’t know but I’d like to find out. I’ll tell you what I discover, if anything. It will only take a moment.”

  She glanced at me and bit her lower lip. She nodded.

  “Hold out your hands.” She did. I gently took them in mind. “Good. Now relax.”

  Her hands felt solid and weighed far more than they should have. I frowned at the unexpected discovery. Even her fingers felt stiff. Exhaling softly, I calmed my mind and let my prana merge with hers, gently probing.

  Like her hands, her body felt denser than it should have been, far more so. It resembled a physical body found on the primordial plane. It was still composed of light but the energies were solidified and deeply compressed.

  I moved to sense her wings to see if they had been forcibly removed. If they had, I would have found traces of prana that still flowed there. I sensed nothing.

  Her wings were gone as if they never were.

  My hands recoiled at the thought. Mirabel’s hand jerked in response. Calmly, I focused my mind, sending soothing thoughts, then released her hands and broke the connection.

  “Did you find out what is wrong with me?” asked Mirabel.

  I tried to smile reassuringly. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your body is denser than I expected and as for your wings, you simply don’t have them. I don’t know why. That is all I can
tell you at the moment.”

  She nodded then turned to Iobel. “Can I go now?”

  “Of course, my dear. Here, I will walk you out.” He held the curtain open and they exited the room.

  I ran my hands through my hair, confused. How could Mirabel exist without wings? In the Causal, one did not need them but in the astral they were necessary. It was as much a part of our bodies as our arms or legs. And why was her body so dense?

  How far did the corruption in these lower spheres go? Its coarse vibrations, its density, adversely affected those that dwelled here, that much was proven.

  Was Mirabel another product of the corruption? Is that why she was so different? How deep did the corruption spread throughout the matter in this sphere?

  I reached down and picked up a stone the size of my fist. It had substance, as it should. But was it denser than I recalled? It certainly seemed so.

  I squeezed the stone barely, expecting it shatter. It didn’t.

  I frowned. I had willed it to shatter and it should have. With more force, I squeezed until it finally burst. It had taken more effort than it should have. Far more.

  How much force, then, would it require to will the stone back together?

  I focused, visualizing the rock as a whole. A strange resistance met my mind, as if it was unnatural for the stone to be put back together, as if the laws in this sphere didn’t want the stone put back together. I licked my lips, suddenly dry. I concentrated more deeply, and the resistance I felt, slight at first, thickened and hardened.

  And pushed back.

  I stared at the fragments, dumbfounded. My will had never been denied. Not once. Earlier today I had battled through a fallen army single-handedly. Now, I could not reform a mere stone?

  I looked around the small alcove. The rock walls, the sparse furniture, even the dim light and the air my astral body inhaled – it was all too tangible, too much substance. Too real.

  I accepted that the subtle astral bodies could increase in density in the lower spheres because of the negative energies coursing through the ether. What I didn’t expect is that it didn’t only apply to bodies, it applied to all matter. I exhaled slowly, feeling a cold chill wash over me.