Eternity

by Nealis, James

  “Who?” the Prince asks. “Oh, your little nemesis? Sal did not seem quite so fond of him either.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a little deeper than that,” he says. “But yes, I see a lot of him in you. You both have the same aggressive nature.”

  I scrunch my face at his words. We are nothing alike.

  The Prince grins. “I can see you don’t believe me, but no matter how different the shape of the seed, if it comes from the same flower it will spawn the same type of plant.”

  I fight to hold my tongue and realize I need to get to the point. I am too angry to engage in wistful conversation.

  I ask him the question that is looming over both of us.

  “So if you applaud me for acting on my instincts, does that mean you aren’t displeased with me?”

  “That’s an entirely different discussion.”

  The Prince walks over to the side of the chambers. Before him lays an array of weapons. Long golden spears, silver swords, and bows and arrows spread out against the wall. The light from the candelabra gleams off them like sunlight off a still pond.

  I begin to wonder if that medicine that Terra made me sniff before I entered these chambers the first time dulled my memory. Because once again, I don’t remember this portion of the chamber. These are some of the most beautiful weapons I have ever seen, and yet I feel like this is the first time I have looked upon them.

  The Prince pulls out a bow and arrow. “Have you ever used a bow, Michael?”

  “The Rogues, they used one to kill my parallel. I haven’t been able to bring myself to lift one.”

  “Then take it.” The Prince holds out the bow.

  I pause and look at the golden device. Its large wooden limbs branch out from the golden handle just below its center. What looks like one thin silver thread extends between the notches.

  When my hands grip the weapon, I see the arrows surging downward into my clansman. Cephus laughs loudly and unleashes another dart. The long arrow pierces Terra’s cowering body and she falls.

  I can’t hold this weapon any longer.

  “This is a coward’s weapon.” I hand the bow back to the Prince. “I want to feel the skin split and to hear the bones break.”

  “Spoken like a true warrior,” he says taking the bow. “But do you know what it is about this weapon that allows the arrow to soar through the air?”

  “The bow?”

  “More specifically, it’s the tension. This string has to be pulled with enough strain to bring out all that force that lies dormant inside this seemingly innocuous little dart.”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

  “You displease me,” he says. “But not because of what you did to that horrible excuse for a warrior. In fact, if you asked me to, I would gladly bring him in here and order him to the dungeons. He is worthless.”

  “Then what is it that I have done that displeases you?” I ask.

  “You’re like this arrow. But despite all the tension I apply to you, you refuse to soar.”

  “How can you say that?” I’m shocked at the anger that rises within me against the One True Prince. “I’d gladly take on that whole army of Rogues right now if you stopped wasting my time in this so-called training.”

  “Perhaps, but you have so much more potential,” he says. “Tell me, how did you get in this situation in the first place?”

  “I showed Raphael mercy,” I say. “I made him a captain.”

  “That’s right. You should be a captain now but instead you threw away your own interest as well as the interest of my entire army based on some petty sense of compassion. Don’t you see that your act actually caused more harm?”

  He is right, but even as I look back on the decision I just can’t imagine allowing him to be thrown into the dungeons.

  “It takes goodness to garner the strength to punish,” he says. “A soul who doesn’t believe that there is ever a time for ruthlessness is one who doesn’t understand the graveness of the threat we face.”

  I look down at the ground as he continues.

  “Right now I am going to bring out the potential in you that you have not been able to tap on your own. Let’s settle this once and for all.”

  The Prince directs three Ceremonials to approach, wheeling up an object hidden beneath a long black curtain that slides along the floor as they approach.

  They reach the front of the room and then they leave the hall again.

  “Lift the curtain,” he says.

  I approach the object. It is larger than I am. I remove the sheet from on top of it. Before me stands a solid marble statue of an angel.

  “Cephus,” the Prince says. “Did you realize he served in these very chambers?”

  “There’s no scar?” I say.

  “Yes, this was before our little confrontation.”

  Just seeing the image in front of me makes my fingers twitch. I clinch my hands into a ball. Colored spots appear in my vision.

  “Good,” the Prince says. “What do you feel right now?”

  “I feel angry.”

  “Good, but I know there must be more in you than that.”

  “Hate.”

  “You want to make him pay,” the Prince says walking up beside me. “I want you to envision unleashing all of that anger, all of that hatred, onto not just a statue but the very angel that statue represents: Cephus. Your parallel’s murderer.”

  His words seep into my ears. I feel them dripping like warm blood, flooding deeper and deeper into my soul. I feel more alive than ever.

  “I hate you,” I growl toward the image.

  Flames begin to rise from my arms. Tendrils flare from my fingertips. I feel the heat, burning and rising from my skin.

  The Prince walks in front of me, blocking out the image of the statue. He stretches out his arms as his wings flap slowly, lifting him into the air. One of his hands still clutching the bow. His smile is so big, it almost looks fake.

  He hovers just above me and the statue as if basking in the warmth of my flames.

  “Destroy it,” he says.

  I don’t pause.

  I leap into the air and hurl myself at the stone statue, forcing it toward the ground. The marble shatters into hundreds of jagged pieces, one of which lodges into my skin cutting my arm.

  I land back on the tile in the midst of the wreckage. I look down at what I have done. My shoulders rise and fall slowly. My blood still pumps through my veins. Even though I have destroyed the image, the anger does not subside.

  Instead, it grows fiercer.

  I take a breath through my clinched teeth.

  “Finally, you have found your gift,” the Prince shouts.

  A moment passes and the Prince releases his bow.

  An arrow whirls just past my face and soars down the hall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Deserter

  I’M LEAVING THIS ARMY TODAY. Pounding my wings against the air, I feel the wind gusts slide down the backs of my calves. My sandals lift up off the ground and I surge upward.

  The Prince told me to embrace my urges and so I will. I leave the others to their games. I travel to the real war. What good is it to spend so much time away from the enemy?

  Especially, when I am surrounded by fools.

  A Rogue has not only been welcomed into our midst, but the Prince himself has appointed him to be my superior. This world is a place of madness.

  The plains below grow smaller as I make my ascent, but I turn my eyes upward. I will not look back.

  My flight from this place marks a change.

  I no longer suppress the memory of Terra; I embrace it. I allow the pain, hurt, and anger to whirl within me and my gifting flares. I explore how quickly I can set myself ablaze and how fiercely I can make the tendrils rise.

  I will my flames to subside and they obey.

  I know the Prince will not judge me for leaving and I am grateful for his lesson. I don’t need to serve under
Raphael, the Frosted, or Sal, to slice through the necks of Rogues. I can crush their bones on my own. I will trust my own urges.

  I am apparently the only angel aware of the real war waging outside the camp. Everyone is too busy competing for a few rocks to see the ominous mountains behind them.

  I spot the smoke from the forges below. I’m reminded of how the two Forgers, Tinus and Celles, approached me just after I left the Prince’s Temple.

  “Hear me,” Tinus said, “Before you go vengefully charging into the enemy's ranks, let us at least teach you a couple of things to keep you from being impaled on some Rogue’s arrow.”

  I declined his offer but it didn’t matter. Within minutes, the two Forgers had already peppered me with instructions.

  “Widen your stance,” Tinus said.

  “Focus,” Celles added. “Your hands will never strike what your eyes don’t see.”

  Tinus adjusted my body with his calloused hands. His skin was charred, as if all the moisture from his body had been absorbed by the forges.

  I took advantage of the time to ask the question that I had batted around in my mind since I first met them.

  “You once said you heard a rumor that there was a traitor in our camp.”

  Tinus laughed. “Looks like someone heard a lot more than he let on.”

  “I just,” I said. “Well, I have a feeling I know who it is.”

  “We can’t answer that for you,” Celles said. “Because we don’t know his name. But according to the rumors, he has a strange power.”

  Everything that I felt until that time was confirmed.

  “He is a Rogue,” I said.

  “What?” Celles asked.

  “I know an angel who travels at breakneck speed,” I said.

  “There a lot of fast angels,” Tinus said. “That doesn’t make him a Rogue.”

  “No, he isn’t just fast. He can fly like a blur. It’s his gifting. He must be the traitor.”

  “Sorry but that’s not really the description. The rumors say that he can move with the light.”

  “The Frosted moves fast like light!” I said.

  “Feels like a stretch to me,” Tinus said.

  “Well, what do you think it means?” I asked.

  “We were kind of hoping you would know,” Tinus said. “Especially once you started talking about others’ ‘giftings.’”

  “Yeah,” Celles said. “What does that mean?”

  I stepped back from them and thought about Cephus and the pain he caused to Terra. I hear her screams.

  “Well you are full of surprises!” Tinus yelled leaning in to inspect my flames.

  “Don’t touch,” I warned.

  They backed off and my flames died down.

  As I think back on our discussion, I am forced to acknowledge that perhaps it’s still possible the Frosted is not the traitor that the rumors reference, but still, in my heart, I just know that I can’t trust him. He’s a Rogue spy. I see his contempt in his leering eyes every time that I look into them.

  The clouds above grow closer as I continue to soar higher into the air. I am not sure exactly where I am headed right now other than up. As long as I get away from this place, I have achieved my objective.

  I will cross this world if I must, hunting down every last rebellious angel.

  I enter the cover of cumulous clouds. Thick with vapor, the sky around me starts to fade from white to grey. I continue to force my wings forward though I can no longer see what is in front of me as I go.

  I feel anxious but I can’t explain it.

  Perhaps the lack of visibility leaves nothing to distract me from my own uncertain thoughts.

  The Prince is wise and he unleashed a gifting in me that I didn’t even know I had. I am a stronger, fiercer warrior now that we talked.

  So why do I feel so dirty? It’s as if a layer of filth coats my heart, making me feel alone.

  The fog grows darker as I fly deeper into the haze. My anxiety grows. I don’t know where I’m going. Perhaps I should dive back downward below the clouds.

  I grow disoriented.

  I imagine for a moment that I will never escape this darkened cloud. Trapped forever with nothing but my thoughts. I can conceive of no greater torment then to live with my own condemning thoughts.

  I should stop. I need to turn around and go back.

  No.

  I beat my wings faster and faster. I will not allow myself to succumb to the darkness.

  I break through the clouds.

  Instantly, the sunlight fills my eyes. It is nearly blinding.

  I find myself in a pure blue sky. Below me rest the silky white clouds. Rolling like soft hills of white grass. They no longer appear so dark and ominous now that I have arisen above them. From up here, they are beautiful.

  My wings beat slowly as I take in all that I see. I shut my eyes for a moment as I soak in the warmth. The breeze blows across my skin with a gentle caress.

  Even as a broken angel, there are moments when I can’t ignore the majesty of the Origin’s creation. This is one. This world is the work of a true creator.

  But how could the maker of such beauty allow it all to fall into such disarray? What kind of guardian is the Origin to allow His creation to fall into such chaos?

  “Where are you?” I hear the words leave my mouth as if I wasn’t the one who spoke them. “You created this world. Did you not know what you were doing? Were you just making it up as you went along? You left us all alone as you withdrew from us.”

  “He left you His Prince,” a voice in my head reminds me.

  “It isn’t enough to leave us your Prince, we need you.”

  What if I just sought out the Origin? I could travel to the heavens.

  Just the thought makes me feel afraid. How presumptuous could I be to confront the Origin? Besides, to know the Prince is to know the Origin.

  I remember back to the day when the Origin gave me my name. He was kind but powerful. Nothing about him felt cruel or harsh. How is it that my image of my Origin could be so different from what I am seeing in my Prince?

  “What is wrong with me?”

  “Too much to put into words, your broodiness.”

  The words startle me as I turn to see Uriel flying in from behind me. Christine and Auro, lift out of the clouds just behind him.

  “We didn’t mean to disturb you, Michael,” Christine says. “It’s just, you seemed to be leaving without saying goodbye.”

  I wipe my eyes with my hands.

  “You are leaving; are you not?” Auro asks.

  I don’t acknowledge his question. “You should return to Team Raphael.”

  “There is no more team,” Christine laughs. “I’ve switched over to Captain Salidryl. He capped his numbers off though so Uriel and Auro were forced back under the leadership of your fun-loving sparring buddy.”

  I roll my eyes. “I am over these games.”

  “But what about us? Do you think that Auro can lecture a Rogue to death? Sal doesn’t have anything to teach us. You’re the only one who really knows anything about warfare. Well, you and the Frosted.”

  “Don’t group me together with him. We are nothing alike,” I say.

  “But don’t you understand what I am saying? We can’t lead armies like this.”

  I know what they are going to ask.

  “Maybe you just stay a little while. Teach us a little before you go?”

  I need to get on to fighting Rogues. I was finally free of this monotony. I won’t concede to their request.

  But my heart betrays me. I nod, even though I want to say no.

  Auro smiles while Uriel floats toward my side and pats me on the back.

  “Do you ever wonder?” Christine breaks the brief moment of silence. “Why doesn’t the Origin just fight them off himself?”

  “I do,” I say.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Auro says. “Why would an all-powerful being allow such violence to creep in.”

  “Ther
e’s an answer,” Uriel says. “We just don’t see it yet. We need to let this run its course.”

  Something about his words feel familiar as we all drift in silence for a few minutes. The sun descends beneath the clouds. The sky darkens except for a few stray beams of light bursting from the horizon. This darkness feels different. It does not give me the anxiety I felt in the cloud when I couldn’t see.

  And now come the streaks of colors. The aurora radiates above us. Blues and pinks and greens.

  I try to take it all in until I close my eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, I am back in our flat and I can hear Terra’s voice. She smiles as she talks to me.

  “Your star will chart its course.”

  I sigh.

  “I’ve missed you,” she says.

  “Not a day has gone by,” I say. “That your name doesn’t leave my lips.”

  “Two from one,” she says.

  “Are you proud of me? Has all my work made you happy?”

  Her smile distorts downward.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “You look at me like I don’t know what you did. Do you really think me so dull as to not see the truth?”

  “The truth?” I ask. “The only truth I know is that I love you.”

  “But you abandoned me,” she says. “You left me to die at the hand of those Rogues. Then after it was too late to save me, you forced me into senseless pain.”

  “I didn’t want to lose you,” I say.

  “You didn’t want to fight for me,” she says.

  “I fight for you now,” I say.

  “No, Michael. You fight for yourself.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Agreement

  THE DULL BLADE hurls toward my neck. I dodge and stoop down low. I thread the needle straight towards her. She blocks the jab with her sword, twisting it, and ripping the blade out from my grip. It drops to the ground behind me.

  “Good show!” Uriel shouts.

  Christine points her blade at me and then throws it into the soft soil.

  I stand breathless. She beat me.

  She drops her arms to her knees and pants heavily.

  I don’t really know how to feel about this. On the one hand, I have just been defeated in battle. On the other, it was a result of my instruction that she was able to pull this off. I smile, choosing pleasure over defeat.