I shivered at the thought. The sooner I was done with this place, the better.
* * *
The Great Coliseum was very much like the Regent Arena, only ten times grander in scale and pageantry. It was very much how I remembered it. Except instead of shows depicting scenes of skill, worship, laughter, song and dance, the arena floor was laden with body parts.
“Magnificent, is it not?” Tabaet said at my side. We sat in his pavilion on plush benches while scantily clad serving maids waded by with pitchers of wine and meat filled trays.
“That is not the word that comes to mind,” I said.
“Come now. You have been in a sour mood since arriving. Can’t you see the majesty here? It is entertainment in its purest form. Drama and thrills followed by the finality of death. It is pure spectacle! And that is something you should try to remember when you fight Mammon later today. No snapping of the fingers. No instantly breaking necks. Give them a show. They’ll love you for it.”
I stared at the audience. Easily fifty thousand fallen filled the stands and perches. Their gluttony, their filth, oozed in the air. I could not escape the stink of it. My anger raged beneath the surface.
For two days the celebration of death occurred. It would continue for another five. I hadn’t been able to seek out the Akashic Halls, although I was certain I knew could find them. In fact, I hadn’t left the coliseum at all since arriving. I had given my word to Tabaet and I would not break it. I had sinned enough.
“That trick with the snapping of Meresin’s neck, by the way, has earned you odds five to one against Mammon. Word has spread quickly. They don’t know what to make of you. You are a curiosity. An enigma. Sariel the Seraph they’re calling you. Indeed, you’re a celebrity! Bask in it!”
Tabaet handed me a goblet of wine. I took it.
“That’s better. Enjoy yourself. This is your hour.” He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned broadly.
His touch revolted me but I said nothing. My time was coming. I needed to prepare myself. I stood. “Call me when Mammon enters. I will be in my quarters.”
“Of course.” I caught the slight flick of his hand as ten guards peeled off from the pavilion perimeter and followed me.
I entered my room. A soft bed, couch, desk and chair furnished it. There were no other doors save the one I walked through. I reached for my helmet on a table beside a bronze, full-length mirror and caught myself in the reflection. I still looked like the Sariel of old.
I felt nothing like him.
I let the anger bubble to the surface for an instant and I rammed my fist through the reflection of my face and into the wall behind. Bits of stone sprayed from the impact. I pulled my hand free, my shoulders slumping, and I fell to my knees. I still stared at the armored reflection of myself prostrated in prayer.
How hypocritical. How I hated who I saw.
I closed my eyes, trying to still my thoughts. I listened for the Song of God. I heard only silence. I reached out my feelings, trying to feel harmony. I felt only turmoil and disgust. I desperately tried to feel the love of God. I felt only hatred – for the fallen, for this sphere, for Tabaet, for everyone. I thought of Requel and my heart softened. Then it hardened into ice against those who stole her from me. Who stole my son.
I remained thus, conflicted, until the door knocked. “Sariel, it is time.”
My eyes popped open and my reflection stared back at me. Accusingly.
“Yes, it is time.”
* * *
Mammon floated in the air before the multitude, his arms outstretched. He looked every bit of the Seraphim order he once belonged to. Even his brilliant wings had tarnished only little. Golden locks cascaded down his shoulders. His finely chiseled face warmed in the glow of the throngs of fallen worshipping him. His golden breastplate, accentuated with chiseled muscles, fit his powerful frame. A helm of brilliant silver adorned his head, the plumes black and flowing. A silver cloak tied to his gilded shoulder guards rippled behind him as his great wings beat mightily.
“Impressive, is he not?” asked Tabaet.
I strapped my shield to my arm and loosened my sword in my belt. “No. Just another fallen to me.”
“That’s the spirit! Remember, give them a show.” Tabaet raised his goblet to Mammon then to me before draining it. “Goodbye Sariel.” He said it with finality.
I smiled grimly. “So confident are you that you won’t see me alive again?”
He returned my grin. “I’m betting a fortune on it.”
“I think you may be right.” I floated from the pavilion.
The orator’s voice boomed from below “… and Mammon’s challenger shall be none other than Sariel the Seraph! The Bane of Meresin! Only once has there been a battle between two Seraphs and, lo, the Great Coliseum nigh collapsed from that titanic fight …”
I floated towards Mammon, his face strikingly familiar. The crowds cheered his name. I recognized him. His name was Abbadoniel once, a captain in the Seraphim Order. Michael taught him the sword and I saw him in the Causal often. I did not know him well but his reputation preceded him as a noble and pious soul.
“Hello Abbadoniel,” I said. “It’s been a while since we walked among the stars. I see you have taken a different name now.”
Mammon’s face fell for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. “Sariel? Is it really you?”
“The same. It appears we have both diminished from who we once were.”
Mammon’s face hardened but his eyes held a hint of fear. “Not I, Sariel. You’ll soon find that out. I do not fear you, Archangel or no.” He drew his sword.
“I did not come to fight you, Mammon. I am not that strong this day.”
Mammon’s grin broadened. “All the better for me then.”
“In fact, I am weak,” I continued. “Do you know what I was doing before this moment?”
“Does it matter? Draw your sword!”
“I was praying, Mammon. I was praying that I had the strength to overcome my weakness. I failed.”
“Enough talk! Fight!”
“No, there will be no fighting. There will be no spectacle. Not this day. Not for these chattel. Do you know what my weakness is, Mammon?”
He lunged at me. With my shield I batted his sword away with ease and grabbed his throat with my free hand. I drew him close, my grip constricting. His eyes bulged.
“My weakness is that I have judged you and I find you unworthy.”
I flung him away. He sailed across the arena and smashed into a group perched along the coliseum wall. Bodies and stonework tumbled below.
Silence fell among the throngs.
“I have judged you all unworthy!” I shouted with all my might, enhancing my voice with prana until the arena shook as if thunder exploded in its midst. “I despise you all! You are all unfit to live in my eyes!”
I raised my arms. The coliseum, like the rest of the city, was deep underground. A hundred paces above the open coliseum, the cavern ceiling was barely visible.
I let loose my bottled fury. I roared a tremendous cry that shook the very rock, the hundreds of stone pillars, the very foundation of the Great Coliseum. I roared again, clenching my fists. Stone cracked. Fractures raced along the arena floor. The throngs of fallen covered their ears, recoiling from the sound, screaming in pain.
I raised my hands to the cavern ceiling high above and pulled.
Cracks split the rock like streaks of lightning. Dust trickled down followed by huge chunks of stone. Then, all as one, the cavern collapsed.
It fell like a terrible shadow. It swallowed all in a deluge of rock and crushing rubble. I remained in the air. The ceiling broke upon me like rain spattering against a shield. It could not harm me, it could not budge me. I remained floating where I was as the ceiling collapsed about and beneath me, engulfing and crushing all those within.
Dust plumes exploded, devouring all in blackness. Still I remained, hovering, the destruction of rubble now complete. I swept my w
ings back and forth, blowing away dust and debris. Only I remained in the air. Everyone else was dead and buried beneath a mountain of stone.
How could God forgive me this time? He couldn’t, I realized sadly.
So be it.
I floated through the blackness towards the direction of the Akashic Halls.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The dust from the collapsed coliseum coated the air with a thick syrupy fog that suffocated any light or sound. Bright street lamps were reduced to star-like pinpricks that winked through the murk. Muffled shouts and wails seeped through the soupy haze, the sounds indiscernible.
I floated through the fog relying more on memory than sight. The darkness disoriented me and I drew my sword, the fiery blade doing little against the blight. I beat my wings. The haze swirled away momentarily, giving me a scant view, before blocking my sight once again.
In this fashion, I moved slowly, cautiously. I went by feel and drifted towards buildings, recognizing some, discarding others. For those I did recognize, I reoriented myself and I moved off in a new direction to the best of my recollection. Fortunately, the buildings were intact and located where I remembered them. In this manner I methodically worked my way closer to the Akashic Halls.
At last, I found them. Or what was left of them.
Crushed roofs and broken walls greeted me. The mighty structures, once tall and commanding with towering steeples and sweeping arches had been toppled to the ground. Only one steeple remained.
My heart sank. I came far to find this place, willing against hope that it would give the answers I so desperately sought. I expected many things, but not this.
I hovered over the skeletal remains searching desperately for a sign that I sacrificed so much, committed so many atrocities, for nothing.
Then a thought occurred to me – why was this structure destroyed when all the others in this area remained intact? Why not destroy it completely? The question tugged at me.
My eyes narrowed as I stared at the ruins below the lonely steeple. I circled down, willing my sword to flare. Through the ruins I noticed a partial clearing on the floor. I landed on a toppled column, staring intently at the peculiarity. It was still strewn with rubble and debris but it appeared as if it had been carefully arranged. I began to clear away the debris when I spotted it – a crack in the floor too straight and precise to be caused by natural damage. I quickly cleared away the rest to reveal a small square outline three feet wide. It had no ring or visible hinge. I ripped the stone door up with my mind and tossed it away. Stairs led downward into darkness.
Holding my sword before me as a light source, my shield securely fastened to my back, I descended. A carpet of dust covered the stone steps and had not been disturbed for some time, but the faint outline of footsteps could still be seen from the last visitor. I had a suspicion to whom they may have belonged. The steps ended at a vast cavern that opened up before me.
I stood in the divining chambers of the Akashic Halls. According to Raphael, this chamber was the only place where angels of deeply intuitive wisdom could access the Akashic Records. One need only meditate before one of the several pristine pools in hopes of accessing Holy knowledge.
I smiled, hope igniting. Perhaps I could still find the answers I sought after all.
I flared my sword. The chamber was massive. Great stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites grew from below. Splashes of turquoise, violets, and browns infused the cavern rock in a display of vibrant color. Pathways navigated around the stalagmites and wove around the pristine pools in perfect circles. Benches and meditation pads resided by each pool along with runic symbols I did not recognize. I recalled a vague memory that each pool symbolized a different aspect of the Akashic and meditating on the same thought at each pool would divine different meanings.
I stepped reverently onto the path and walked to the first pool, stopping short. It was emptied – only a large fissure remained along the bottom. My blood went cold. I hurried to the second pool. It, too, was emptied. Quickly I raced to each pool in turn finding each one drained away. I slumped on a bench seat at the last emptied pool bed at the rear of the chamber. Someone didn’t want anyone to access these records ever again.
I ran my fingers through my hair then screamed my frustration. The sound echoed endlessly, taunting me.
I closed my eyes, trying to recall every word that Raphael had once told me of this chamber:
‘Every thought, act, or deed is imprinted in the ether and it is God’s journal, his memoirs. We call this repository of information the Akashic Records. Only deep intuitive wisdom can access them and only within the divining chamber beneath the Akashic Halls. The language of the Akashic is universal; hence it is not spoken in words but in symbols, like dreams. In fact, dreams are sometimes glimpses into the Akashic.
Only those of the deepest humility, reverence, and faith can read the symbols and understand them. This is intentional else the unwise would have access to the treasure trove of knowledge. Those of lesser wisdom that do peek at the Akashic Records in its full capacity will go mad.
‘To access the Akashic, one needs to open his mind completely without reservation. One’s mind must surrender and absorb everything divined, regardless of desire, like a sponge absorbs both unclean and pure water without exception. Only in this way can the symbols be assimilated without bias, prejudice, or expectation and the full knowledge of the Akashic language be understood…’
I opened my eyes and grunted. All I needed to access the Akashic was humility, reverence, and a deep faith. All of which I severely lacked.
Leaning my sword against the bench, I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. Water or no water, I demanded answers.
I concentrated on Requel, her face, her form, her laughter, and her love. I found my anger fading and turning into sorrow. How I missed her. My throat swelled with emotion and tears trickled from closed eyes. Would I ever see her again? And what of our son?
I sat there for minutes that stretched into hours and still I saw or heard nothing. My head ached, my heart dejected. Another hour passed.
“Show me,” the words squeezed out unbidden from my pressed lips like a muffled sob. “Please. I need to see her again. I need to know where she is.” I continued concentrating, my head pounding.
“Please,” I sobbed again. Still nothing. I sat there for a long while before my anger returned in full force. “If there’s any justice at all left in this Godforsaken world then show me the answers I need!”
My back suddenly arched. Energy raced from the base of my spine and exploded into my head. Sweat broke out and my breath rattled as I sat there, stunned, by the spiritual energies coursing through me.
Light exploded behind the darkness of my closed eyes. It ebbed and flowed before condensing into recognizable shapes.
I saw three visions.
The first vision took shape of a serpent, long and sinewy, formed into a perfect circle. The head of the serpent took a bite of its own tail. After it did so, the serpent’s body grew back, unbeknownst to the serpent, and the head took another bite. With every bite, the head worked its way around the circle but the body never diminished. It would continue endlessly, eating and getting nowhere.
The second vision was that of a scale with two arms out to each side, perfectly balanced, with weighing trays hanging delicately below each arm. A ball of light appeared in the left tray but the tray arms did not move. The ball weighed nothing and did not affect the scales. But then the ball of light turned darker and the arm lowered. It then turned into clay and the tray arm sunk completely. It did not rise until a ball of light appeared on the other side. As the ball of light grew brighter, the scales balanced. A single word flared on the scale arm encompassing the whole length of it and read, ‘karma’.
The third and last vision was the ball of light, lifting from the tray and descending quickly as it fell. It hardened into a diamond and landed in a pool of mud. The mud covered the diamond but it was still a diam
ond. The mud gathered together and took shape, the diamond still encased within, and turned into clay, forming into a figure of a child, pure and wingless, sitting with his legs folded. Suddenly, seven bright jewels descended from the highest spheres of heaven and embedded themselves into the sitting figure.
The jewel from the sixteenth sphere shone the most brightly and embedded itself into the crown of his head. The jewel from the fifteenth sphere embedded itself into the forehead. The fourteenth into the throat, and so it continued, each jewel from its corresponding sphere into the heart, the abdomen, the lower abdomen, and finally the base of the spine. When the last jewel was in place, it flared with light traveling upwards from jewel to jewel until it reached the crown then shone like the sun. The clay figure became dust and blew away. The diamond was released, rising up and up, ascending to the highest heights and becoming light once more.
“There he is!” A shout jolted me awake. Loud footsteps slapped on hard stone.
I opened my eyes. I lay on the floor beside the pool, my face plastered against the stone. How long I lay there I did not know but it must have been hours, perhaps even days, judging by how stiffly I moved. I slowly rose to my feet, grabbing my sword, my mind in a haze. Hundreds of fallen, all heavily armored, filled the cavern. They held brilliant torches and sharp spears.
The three visions still danced in my head, making little sense. And I still had no idea of the whereabouts of Requel.
I needed answers.
Answers from someone far more knowledgeable than I who may know where my beloved went. Answers from someone who had visited this very chamber before me long ago, perhaps the last one to visit it, and the knowledge he found here drove him mad. Answers from the angel who destroyed this place then shattered the astral spheres because of the knowledge he discovered.
“Take me to my brother, Lucifer,” I commanded. “We have much to discuss.”
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