Still fighting the pain to move forward, he didn't even try to stifle his tears. How could he have let her come to an end such as this? He had vowed to protect her, and yet there she lay, unconscious and near death. He had failed himself. Worse, he had failed her.
With the thought of his failure being a dishonor to Annaleah, the pain in his soul became too much. Tears threatened to obscure his view, but he let them flow freely, hoping they would cleanse him of his sin. There in the grass lay a Halfling like no other. Half woman, half angel. She had awoken in him a tenderness, a spark of hope that he had not known was still alive in him. He had thought it had died millennia ago when he was evicted from Heaven. The memory of his betrayal was something that had wounded him for an eternity, and yet, the thought of losing the woman who had borne in him a hope he never thought he could feel again was much more painful. After the Creator had left him and allowed for no explanation, the only defense he’d had was to harden himself against all of life. He still had left enough decency inside not to let the Darkness overcome him; still held enough of the light in his soul to keep the pain of the treachery from turning into hatred. He had used isolation, self-importance and knowledge as a weapon and as his defense, treasuring his solitude above all else. He had never let anyone get close to him, and had never been tempted.
Annaleah had changed all of that; her mere presence had shown him that his ability to feel love was not lost. His heart raced when he thought of her and he felt a longing to touch her gently, and to hold her in his arms. This had led to the opening of other great things within him and he felt again the kiss of hope for his redemption and for a normal life among the humans. It was something that he had not only never dared to think possible, it was something he had deemed a silly and useless waste of time; a thing mortals turned to in order to feel closer to something just outside their reach.
As he crawled closer to Annaleah, he thought too of Gabriel, and of how he wished he could thank him. Had it not been for the dream Gabriel had sent him, he may have never let himself feel as he felt now. "If I live," he promised himself, "I will thank you, my brother soul. I vow this to you."
With a last mighty heave, Seraphael reached Annaleah's side. He looked down at her beautiful, supine form, his heart breaking. Though he could see her chest rising and falling with slow inhalations of breath, he could tell from the slowed movements of the pale and weak arcs of light beneath her skin that she was in great danger from the poison lingering in her veins. She was alive, though only barely.
Seraphael forced himself to his knees, ignoring the pain, so that he could look upon her more closely. Her waist length golden curls fanned out around her in the grass, framing her like a halo. The fire of purity still shone from within it, only much weaker than he had seen it in the dream Gabriel had sent him. He had never seen her out of Dream Time in her angelic form, and she was more than beautiful, she was divine. He longed to touch her, to somehow heal and awaken her, to hold her in his arms and never let her go. He found himself wondering briefly if things would work the way they did in fairy tales. If he kissed her with nothing but love, would she awaken and be healed? He realized that, though he was burning to kiss her, he would not mar her purity by kissing her while she was unaware.
Through the haze of his despair and the agony of his fear of losing her, one clear thought came to him like a breath of fresh, sunlit air, clear and perfectly formed. He could call to the Creator, and beg Her to heal Annaleah. He knew that the Goddess was not one who would engage in war Herself, leaving the trivialities of battle to those who fought within the darkness or the light. Though She had caused him the greatest pain he had ever endured, he was willing to risk Her refusal of him. She might not hear him, and even if She did, there was every chance She wouldn't answer. Why would She? He was a fallen one now, cast from the throne of Heaven to the hateful earth below, to suffer among the humans as if he were one of them.
Another perfectly formed thought entered his mind, as though sent to him with merciful intentions. He could call to the Goddess by Her sacred, holy name. It was forbidden to all to speak it, except under the most dire of circumstances. To speak Her true name in any way that She might deem unworthy was to risk immediate and irrevocable damnation.
Seraphael found the thought filled him with hope, and the prospect of an eternity in Hell as one of the damned did not faze him. To lose Annaleah was worse than the threat of Hell. To lose her was to lose everything.
He gathered as much strength as he could muster, and lifted Annaleah in his arms. As her head fell softly against his shoulder, his heart filled with adoration for her. Outstretching his wings, he began to pray for the first time since before his fall. "Forgive me, Oh Goddess, for calling your perfect and holy true name. I come to you out of love, and out of desperation. I hold in my arms a Halfling which I have come to love. I would sacrifice myself to the tortures of Hell itself should you choose to heal her. Forgive me, Goddess, if I incur your wrath.” He wept, his chest heaving as he struggled to speak. “I ask only that you save her." Seraphael trembled with the weakness of his injury, yet he still held his beloved up to the heavens, prepared to give his very soul should she be spared.
Lifting his head and opening his silver eyes, Seraphael readied himself. He treasured the feeling of Annaleah in his arms, knowing that he may never hold her again.
"My sweet Annaleah, forgive me if I fail you. If I do, I pray that Gabriel will let you know why I did what I felt I must do.”
He knew what death was to an angel, an absolute nothingness, a ceasing to be, unless the Illuminare happened to be close by to collect the last spark of her soul, in a hope of resurrecting her later.
With the last breath of strength in his lungs, Seraphael said the Goddess's name before collapsing into the grass, Annaleah still held tightly in his arms.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Goddess
Seraphael, falling slowly backwards to the red Georgia earth, saw the intense white light that was the harbinger of the Goddess' arrival. As it pulsed through the trees, he knew the Creator had heard him. It was as though time had stopped when the last syllable of the Goddess' one true and holy name had been uttered. The powerful effects of speaking Her secret name slowed everything down and, for a moment, bathed the world in a haze of pure, dazzling light. It was a luminous blazing pulse that fanned out until it covered everything all at once, as if it emanated from the center of the earth and shot out in all directions, holding itself in the world long enough to burn off all that was unholy and impure.
Seraphael felt disoriented, as if his descent to the ground took hours. Every movement seemed to take a great concerted effort, as though he were moving through setting concrete. Closing his eyes against the blinding light sent out before the coming of the Goddess, to purify the land for Her arrival. She was too holy to stand upon a land so ravaged and battle torn; the scars of the emotions it held too brutal for Her to withstand in her sacrosanct purity.
The screams of the unholy filled Seraphael's ears, their death cries filling the sky and hammering into the earth. Still he continued his descent, Annaleah pressed tightly against his chest in an attempt to protect her from harm. Caught in the spell of time unraveling itself to burn the impurities away, he felt compassion for those that died. Not only his brothers and sisters of the Light, but for those who had turned from the light and hardened themselves so that all goodness was lost to them. There was no hope left for those who rejoiced in evil and celebrated suffering. In his mind he saw the faces of those who were once in Heaven with him, chanting the holy name of the Goddess and holding the universe itself together with the recitations of precious words. He remembered how Satanael had used his wit and charm to gain power in their minds, turning many away from the Goddess. He was quite convincing with his lies and his empty promises, and many had believed him. He had caused a great number to lose their way, and, in doing so, lose their place in Heaven. Some walked among mankind, forever regretful of what they h
ad done and hoping for a chance of redemption by helping the humans. Others were loyal only to Satanael, still enamored by his guile and lies. They believed that one day the Creator would be overthrown and the world, as well as humanity, would be rid of the light, free for them to reign over and debauch as they chose.
It was the last of these creatures that still screamed their deaths into the night. Seraphael knew that he had caused their deaths by calling to the Goddess. She would not come to any place where there were any of the Damned. The pulse of blinding light, by the intense power of its purity, would kill them all and effectively end the war. The ramifications for calling Her were many. It was an unfair and unethical war tactic, and he knew he would be judged for it, not just by the Creator, but by the Damned as well. He would certainly be remembered for it, and hated by those who had escaped the purification by returning to Hell before the burning light was sent, or by those who had not yet emerged to fight. The death toll for the enemy would be innumerable, and for the Dark fiends, there was no return from death. For them it was oblivion. The deaths of the damned were irrevocable. There were no Illuminare for them.
When Seraphael finally met the ground, the air rushed out of his lungs from the impact. He saw one of the mysterious Illuminare as it floated slowly past him. It was made up of both darkness and light in an odd but beautiful combination. Its form held to that of an angel, but was featureless, as though it were midnight sky in the shape of a large winged man, with lightning coursing through it in random places. This small sect of angels, once belonging to the order of Thrones, had willingly transformed themselves into guardians of the angels of Light who had been slain in battle. They were only seen when there was a Great War between the Light and the Darkness; their purpose to capture the last spark of light and life from a dying angel. They drew this last breath out of those who had fallen in battle and saved it within a sacred vessel so that the angel would not fade into oblivion. It was their hope that someday these last remnants of angels would be brought back to life and glory and returned to Heaven once more. Angels, not having souls like humans, could not return to Heaven after they died. If their last breath was not captured by the Illuminare, they were lost forever, as if they had never existed at all.
The searing pulse of light was now gone, and the night was devoid of sound. The quiet ran so deep that Seraphael found himself wondering if the Light had killed the Holy angels as well. Straining to hear something, anything, his heart beat fiercely, the blood of his wounds now flowing freely.
He looked down at Annaleah, praying that she still breathed. The arcs of light beneath her skin grew weaker and the golden luminescence of her hair was now all but gone. He saw, to his horror, several Illuminare unweave themselves from the shadows, coming closer with their sacred earthen pots.
"No!" he cried out at them, "You cannot have her. She can't die. Not here, not like this." He clutched Annaleah and laid upon his back, facing the sky. His vision of the stars was obscured as the Illuminare came closer, waiting for Annaleah's last breath and spark of light.
And then he felt Her. At once his lungs filled with sweet, fresh air and his wounds were no longer a tapestry of blood and pain. A gentle yet powerful luminosity was building in front of him, driving the Illuminare back a safe distance. Seraphael felt love surrounding him, and the return of hope washed over him. The undulating light blossomed out like the petals of a flower until it described the beauty and form of the Mother of All That Is. Seraphael knew his strength and health had been returned to him, but was afraid to look at Her, not knowing if She was angry for having been summoned into the middle of a war.
"You may go elsewhere, dear Illuminare, for you will not be needed here quite yet," She said softly. The beauty and calm in her voice broke Seraphael's heart, and he wept for the beauty of it and for the pain of having been so long separated from Her.
"My most beloved Seraphael, do not be afraid to look upon me. I promise no harm will come to you." Her voice was filled with love, it was musical and sweet, and when She spoke flowers began to bloom in the earth around Her. The soil, the trees and the life that had lived there began to heal as She stood among them.
Seraphael lifted his head with humble reverence and looked upon the Goddess, his heart feeling as if it were shattered and healed both at once. The light that emanated from Her was scintillating and protean, the colors washing into themselves and flowing from green to blue to silver, then to rose, white, gold and purple, all weaving in and out of Her form of light. She was tall and thin, and looked as though She would be fragile if she were physical and not ephemeral. Her cheekbones were sharply defined, her chin thin and pointed. Her ears were like that of a fairy, and in them she wore scrolled silver bands that curved around the pointed tips. Her eyes were pools of shining indigo light, beautifully framed with long lashes and dreamily lowered lids. Her robes too, were made of the protean light, as was the twisted wooden staff she held and the silver floral crown that she wore on top of her head. Her hair flowed long around her, dancing in the wind as if it held a happy song within it that only it could hear. It flowed down and around Her form, fanning out on the ground around Her feet, twirling languidly.
"I have so much I wish to say to you, Seraphael,” She said, her voice both beautiful and full of remorse. “I am sorry for what you have been through and all that you have been made to endure. I have been waiting for you to call to me.” She stepped forward a step, her head tilted as she looked deeply into Seraphael’s eyes. “I would have come the first time you spoke to me, by my true name or otherwise. I waited on your invitation. I am a lady, you see. I will not come unless I am invited.” A smiled curled on her ephemeral lips, the light within her form now pulsing with colors, all of them filled with divine love.
“You have every reason to be angry with me,” She continued, “I owe you so much. There is more that I want to tell you and I wish I could stand here with you longer, but I am afraid I cannot. I cannot leave the throne of Heaven for too long for fear that our enemies will storm Heaven and try to overthrow it in my absence. Though it is still guarded by the Ophanim, I must return quickly. My presence here changes a lot of things, as you know."
Seraphael, his soul aflame with a myriad of palpable emotions, let his tears spill down his face. He struggled for words. Her radiance and beauty was overwhelming. It had been an eternity since he had been in Her presence. With loving compassion, the Creator glided over to him, her head cocked sweetly to one side, her hair still moving in a fluid dance. As she moved, more flowers bloomed, in colors Seraphael had never seen before. The fragrance they injected into the air was sweet, heady and wonderfully intoxicating. The Goddess' hair flowed out behind her as she moved, as if it moved in a dream. With a long, thin finger made up of Her glorious kaleidoscope of lights, she softly wiped a tear from Seraphael's face with such love and compassion that he was utterly overwhelmed with feeling.
"Give her to me, Seraphael," She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. Seraphael stood, using his wings for balance, and looked back into the purity of Her gaze. He looked too at Annaleah, his soul filled with love for the woman who had changed his life so much.
Seraphael gently held Annaleah out to the Creator. As the Goddess gathered Annaleah to her bosom, and Annaleah's head came to rest peacefully against Her, the Goddess' hair spread out around her and began to transform into glorious, light filled wings. Long strands wove together to form pinions of light, tresses blossomed upwards and out until the Goddess, holding Annaleah, was surrounded by a pair of the largest, most stunning wings Seraphael had ever seen. They shone with light from within, like that which made up the Goddess' essence, protean and changing. The light began to flow through Annaleah, reigniting the arcs of luminosity in her skin and rekindling the golden glow in her hair. As the Goddess held her like a sleeping child, the life that had once threatened to leave Annaleah forever began to flow back into her once again.
Seraphael fell to one knee, his gratitude and reverence overpowe
ring his senses. His lips that had once so long ago spoke elaborate prayers and recited complex rituals now spoke only two words over and over. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
With a sharp inhalation of breath, life filled Annaleah once more, the threat of death now gone. Opening her eyes, she looked up into the face of the Goddess, and felt for the first time the true power of Her peace, purity and divine love.
"Welcome back, Annaleah." The Goddess said, placing her gently on her feet once more. Annaleah felt hot tears moisten her cheeks as the depth of the Goddess’ love flowed out around Her. It echoed in her heart, sending pulsing heartbeats filled with gratitude to reverberate within her.
Having healed Annaleah, the Goddess' wings fell from their expansive stretch in the sky and once more became Her hair. It continued to drift slowly around her, as if it had never stopped undulating to some fanciful, dreamy tune.
"There is still a lot for you to do. You have no time for Death,” The Goddess said, “I am very proud of you, Annaleah.” She smiled serenely, her eyes taking on an even deeper shade of indigo. “There is much I wish I could say to you. But, my time here is at an end.” She bowed Her beautiful head slightly. “I honor you both, and your love for one another. It was your love for your uncle, Annaleah, that saved him, as it was Seraphael's love for you and his willingness to sacrifice himself that saved you. Cherish each other, for it is love, always love, which is the most powerful force in the Universe."
As the Goddess spoke, her light began to draw into itself and her form grew smaller as She withdrew her energy and presence from them. The couple watched as the light diminished, until with a bright blink, it was gone.
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