“Our guest is she now?” Uriel laughed, nodding his head and turning away. “I see. Our ‘guest.’ Well, pardon me, my lady,” he said, bowing low.
“Uriel,” said Michael, finally speaking. “Enough now.” His voice differed from the others. Theirs seemed to have a strange, musical ring. Beautiful, surely. But Michael’s was somewhat lower. More earthy. Also melodic, but full of richness. I stared at him, taking in again the sight of him compared to the others. While he was of clearly the same make – whatever they were. . .archangels. . . there was something different about him. I knew him in that moment to be their leader.
Tristan had been content to silently observe. Raphael leaned in towards him and Tristan listened, nodding his white head briefly.
“Larin,” Tristan said, “I think it is time to take you to your quarters.” He started to move forward but stopped abruptly when Michael raised his hand to still him.
“One moment, Tristan,” he said, continuing to stare at me. “Larin, tell me something.” I stared back at him, waiting.
“How do you feel?”
That infernal question again. It was ridiculous, given the circumstances, but people kept asking it.
“I feel great, thanks for asking.”
Raphael grinned, and Gabriel smiled, both evidently appreciating my sarcasm. Uriel continued to scowl but eyed me more suspiciously. Michael, however, did not break his expression.
“I see,” he said.
Michael stared at me a moment longer, the depth of his dark-eyed gaze penetrating deeply. My feathers bristled in a strange way, but I did not break his stare. Michael turned back to Tristan, indicating he should proceed.
“We shall speak again when you are seen to properly and made comfortable.” And with that, he had dismissed me. They all turned their backs, but Michael stole one more glance in my direction before I was led out of the room.
The large doors closed behind us as Tristan strode ahead. Chase had been waiting, leaning against a wall beside a torch. He stood up abruptly with an expression of expectation on his face. Tristan walked past him, and I hurried to catch up. Chase followed quickly behind.
“What was that about?” I asked, turning back to look at the large doors as they grew smaller behind us the further we walked.
“That was the war room,” Tristan replied, not breaking his stride.
“War?” I huffed, trying to keep pace. “Are they at war with someone? What’s going on around here?”
“It is an ancient war, which has recently become more. . .” Tristan paused, considering his words.
“Interesting,” Chase finished for him helpfully.
“Yes, you could put it that way,” Tristan said drily. He looked upon Chase in a way that reminded me of a teacher about to chide a misbehaving student. Chase looked back coyly, as though in apology.
“What kind of war are you talking about? Does this have something to do with Ephreim?” I asked and Chase laughed.
“It has everything to do with Azrael, his master,” Chase said, “the one he serves.”
I recognized the strange name from the first encounter with Jared and Conner. I understood that that entire lot had reacted with great fear and the emotion the name invoked. I shuddered, finding it hard to imagine anyone more fearsome than Ephreim.
“Chase,” said Tristan curtly, “do you not have somewhere you need to be?”
“Nope!” Chase replied happily. “I just thought I’d show Larin around, lend a hand.” Tristan stopped and turned around to face Chase.
“Actually, I would appreciate it if you could show Larin to her quarters. I have a few things I need to tend to. Gideon never returned from the watch last night, and we have instructions to dispatch a search party.” This brought Chase up short, and he looked at Tristan, frowning.
“What do you mean he never came back?” he asked, concern furrowing his genial brow. “What about the others?”
“He was separated from the others after they broke watch to attend an awakening. They returned with the new ward, but Gideon could not be located. It was hoped that he would have returned on his own, but evidently, this was not the case.”
“Oh no,” Chase frowned, “Did you need me to help?”
“Just do as I’ve asked,” Tristan replied, turning. He stopped as a thought occurred to him.
“Can you try to keep quiet and say nothing more to frighten Larin?” he asked, drily. “Michael has expressed to me that he wishes to have words with her himself once she has settled.”
“Michael? Really? Wow,” Chase looked at me with something akin to admiration.
“Larin really got the attention of the big brass, eh?”
“Chase. . .” Tristan warned.
“Yeah, yeah, I got this. Come on, Larin,” he said, though he was not smiling as he had been before. The disappearance of this Gideon seemed to have shaken him. Tristan nodded and looked at me, smiling briefly.
“Chase will see that you are made comfortable, Larin. I can assure you, you are quite safe here. I know your trials of late have been overwhelming, but you have my word you will come to no harm here at the Citadel.”
I could only nod, staring at him. Tristan strode off and rounded a corner, disappearing from view. I turned back around and looked at Chase, who had resumed smiling at me.
“This way,” he gestured.
We made our way back towards the Great Hall, turning up the circular staircase carved out of the mountain wall itself. I stopped here and there to remark again on the beauty of the place, looking over the railing as we walked up. The thrones, currently empty, stood in their crescent pedestals. The light from the sun as it entered the place in the ceiling seemed to always keep the thrones lit just so, as though they would erupt into flame at any given moment.
“Are we angels?” I asked, suddenly. “Is that what we are, Chase?”
Chase chuckled. “You could say that I guess. We aren’t like the Council angels though, if you hadn’t noticed. We’re what are referred to as ‘vessels’ – the lowest on the totem pole. But we do some of the most important work.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, deeply curious now. “What sort of work? What is our purpose?”
“Well, you heard what Tristan said, Larin. There’s a big war coming. Right now we have to get our numbers up and get to the others like us before Azrael and his baddies get to them first,” Chase said, then remembered himself. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you about this yet. I don’t want to piss off Michael.”
“You don’t speak like the others,” I said, ignoring his change of subject and making my own.
Chase laughed this time. “No, I guess I don’t. I’m not that much older than you. Tristan, some of the others, have been around for a long time.”
“Just how long?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“A long time,” he replied, volunteering no further information. I opened my mouth to prod further when suddenly we appeared at the entrance of another room carved into the wall of the cavern. Chase opened the door and I walked inside. He whistled.
“Well I guess you really are the guest of honour today,” he said, looking around. “The rest of us get to live in the dormitories. It kinda reminds me of a chicken coop, feathers all over the place.” He grinned. “But it’s actually not so bad. I’ll show you where I stay later. You can come visit anytime.”
I walked into the room. A large canopy bed stood in the center, which was adorned in the white and greys I understood to represent the Citadel colors. A fireplace stood unlit and the light from a window nearby illuminated everything in a cheerful manner. Particles danced in the sunbeams, and the room felt warm despite the layers upon layers of rock that surrounded us. I walked into the center, looking down at an ancient hand-woven carpet of muted colors. Surrounding the walls were beautiful tapestries, all containing the same imagery of the carvings in the Great Hall, angels, as I understood them to be, engaged in various forms of flight and business. I stopped in front of on
e, reminiscent of Renaissance artwork. A woman held a chubby, naked baby, smiling and reaching a hand up to a white-winged angel who was holding out a candle to illuminate her path.
I wondered again what the hell was going on. Why was I so special? Nothing made any sense. I turned back, still perplexed, to see Chase eyeing me expectantly, as though he was a porter in a hotel waiting for a tip.
“What do you think?” he asked, smiling.
“It’s. . . very. . .” I turned back and returned the smile, reluctantly. I was too submerged in the feelings of confusion to worry about my accommodations. “It’s fine, Chase, thank you. Thanks for. . .” I pursed my lips, not knowing what I was supposed to actually be thanking him for. I still had no answers.
“So, can I get you anything? I guess you’ll have noticed by now that we don’t need to eat, so food isn’t readily available.”
I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten in days. I had no desire to whatsoever. The realization took me by complete surprise, and I tried to wrap my head around a life of not knowing hunger. That gnawing, empty feeling in the nights where I had gone without. There were days in my childhood where neither Sam nor I had eaten. Dad would often forget that we needed food, though he would occasionally bring home enough to keep us alive. He didn’t care, as his substantial means of sustenance was derived almost entirely of alcohol. I realized suddenly that as I grew older it was often Sam who would make sure there was something to eat, when he could, and I felt a great sadness thinking about him. I pushed him from my mind, for now. Kaila and Gee, of course, had gotten me through the last few years of my life with the generosity of their families, but there were still days where I would go hungry. I would never mention it to them, ashamed and afraid of my secret.
I felt a strong pang of desire to be with my friends at that moment. Their warmth and familiarity. I still struggled with the possibility, no, the knowledge, that they were now lost to me.
“Hey, are you ok?” Chase asked, walking forward with a look of concern on his face.
“Sure,” I said, waving a hand absently in his direction as I turned away and walked to the window. I looked outside and saw the side of the mountain in the distance, the white frothy waterfall it held was audible even from where I stood. A mist rose from the bottom, gentle and soft. Moss-covered rocks were visible under gigantic trees with weeping branches that seemed thirsty for a drink, reaching down towards the water.
“Actually, Chase, I could use a shower,” I said, the purity of the scene beyond me reminding me of my current presentation.
“Oh, of course!” he said, nodding. “We don’t exactly have plumbing here. Most of us bathe in the river, but I could bring you some towels and some water. You’ll also be needing a new outfit,” he said, grinning at me. I looked down and blushed hotly. My shirt was in tatters, the same one from the emergence of my wings. The rips in specific areas left little to the imagination. Chase realized my discomfort and looked away, also blushing, which surprised me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. . .” he began, flustered.
“No, it’s fine, Chase, really. I’d love some clothes and some water, if you would help me out with that,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, leave it to me!” Chase turned quickly, rushing out of the room in his embarrassment. I looked on the bed and noticed the robes of grey and white were already laid out for me and thought to stop Chase. But then I realized again the sheer magnitude of my exhaustion. I walked over to the bed and sat down. It was soft and welcoming and smelled crisp and fresh. It reminded me of the time Kaila had taken me on a weekend escape with her family to their beach house. Everything was spotless, clean. I still remember the feeling of pleasure after a long day at the beach when I crawled into the bed in the guest bedroom, revelling in the luxury of the down comforter. It was one of the best sleeps I’d ever had. When I had arrived home a day later, Dad hadn’t even noticed I’d been gone.
“Larin?” I heard Chase say softly, and I blinked, confused. I realized I had somehow drifted off, and I sat up, wiping my eyes. “I brought you some hot water, and some other things.” He laid the towels and another robe on a chair near the fireplace, which I noticed he had lit. A large bowl of water had been placed on the table adjacent, steam rising from it warmly and invitingly.
“Thanks, Chase,” I said, walking towards it. I reached down and put my hands in the water, sighing and squeezing my eyes shut in pleasure. I opened my eyes and noticed Chase standing awkwardly near the door.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, clearly reluctant to leave. “If you need anything, just ask for me. Everyone knows who I am,” he added importantly. “I’m part of the wake-up crew.”
“The what?” I asked, confused.
“The ones who collect the newly awakened,” he grinned, “There are a few groups of us in charge of it. When you learn to use your wings properly, maybe I can get you on my team!” My wings. I realized at some point, I may use them like the others. And fly. The thought gave me feelings of terror mixed with elation.
“Maybe, Chase. Thanks again.”
He smiled at me again and left the room, closing the door behind him. I immediately washed my body, scrubbing the grime and filth of the last several days as best I could. I reached over and took a bottle of sweet-smelling soap, reminding me of the gentle rain on a spring day. I lathered it into my hair, breathing it in and feeling my body finally starting to relax after my recent tribulations. When I had finished, the water was nearly as black as my wings. I wondered briefly how to wash them, looking behind me and flicking my wings upwards to inspect them. I shrugged and left it for the moment, turning to the robes. They were strange but built specifically for people like me. I put my head through the hole and the sleeves, two long parts draping down the back and the front which I tied around my sides. It was comfortable, and most importantly, clean. I sighed, feeling somewhat better than I had in a while.
I noticed a small mirror beside the fireplace and walked over to inspect my reflection. I gasped at what I saw. It wasn’t the skinny, frail girl with lanky hair and scar tissue that marked her body like a map, evidence of the abuses of the past. My wings weren’t my only transformation. The cells of my body had changed as well, healing the scars of my life. Mostly. Some were still apparent, though considerably less distinct. I ran a hand up my arm experimentally, noting the strange softness that wasn’t there before. The transformation had altered me utterly, making me stronger. I stretched out my wings, marvelling at the beauty of them once again. My skin had a fresh, effervescent look to it. Healthy. My blond hair shone, thick and full, and my grey eyes. . ..
My eyes stared back at me with that strange, metallic sheen the others like me shared. These eyes were new to me, but they were now mine. I wrapped my arms around my body, not knowing how to feel at this moment.
I walked back to the window, looking out and wondering what my new life had in store for me. Knowing I couldn’t resist the call of sleep any longer, I wandered over to the bed, crawling into it and laying on my side. My body adapted itself perfectly, my wings becoming more and more familiar.
Comfortable, I drifted off to sleep, resigning myself to whatever fate had in store for me when I awoke.
I don’t know how long I slept, but it must have been for quite some time. I had opened my eyes once, noting the darkness outside before drifting back into a dreamless sleep. I didn’t wake up again until I heard a soft knock at the door.
Rubbing my eyes as I sat up, I said, “Come in,” and waited. The door opened, and I could hear soft footsteps. As my eyes adjusted, I found myself staring into the face of Michael. Archangel.
“Hello,” he said softly.
I found I was gaping at him. He was astonishingly different from the others, yet the same somehow. They were formed from the same hand but in a different mold. His wings were the purest white, so soft and magnificent, I lacked the words to describe them. They seemed to radiate, filling the room with light. Mic
hael’s dark hair was still a shock to see, black as night and falling softly around his face. I marvelled at his beauty and imagined him to be exactly what I would have expected an angel to be. I closed my mouth and blinked, feeling vulnerable. There was an aura of peacefulness about him though, and I felt it reaching out and saturating me. I stood up slowly, resisting the urge to wrap my wings around me as I had the night that Tristan found me. I knew at the same time that there was no threat here.
“Hey,” I said back, quietly.
Michael smiled and walked further into the room, stopping before the fireplace and turning his back to me. He placed a hand on the mantle and leaned down to grasp the poker, stoking the fire.
“I trust you are comfortable here, Larin.” A statement and a question. His low voice was so comforting, the softness and richness of it was a thing of wonder to me. There was something familiar about it, and I felt a strange heat inside my chest. I realized I was losing my wits and had to keep them about me. There was so much I needed to know, so many questions I had for him.
“What is it that you want of me, Michael? What are you?” I asked.
“I am Michael, archangel of the Divine Council,” he said, “though you already know that. I expect you want to know more about us, and I’m here to ask you questions myself.”
“What is the Divine Council?” I asked quickly before he could say more.
Michael turned and faced me, studying me with something akin to curiosity. I flushed, feeling the piercing gaze of his inspection.
“I shall start at the beginning,” he said.
Long ago.
Before the age of man, there was a celestial world where angels lived in harmony with their creator. The Father. A second world was created below the veil of the Celestial Kingdom. A world of beauty. Majesty.
Eden.
A sanctuary of unimaginable bounty. Eden became a place of retreat, of joy and peace. The gateway between the Celestial Kingdom and Eden was open, and angels could traverse the planes freely and enjoy the wonders of both worlds. It was a golden era.
Herald Page 9
