On Black Wings

by Storm, Sylvia

  “Thank you,” I say and smile, standing in front of one of the generals, “can you tell me what’s going on around here?”

  He catches himself, blinks a look up at me quickly, and motions towards the inside of the tent with his head. The inside glows with a cathedral-full of yellow candles, and its warm, inviting feel beckons me inside.

  I step past the welcoming general and pull the tent-flap open.

  He’s the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon. He has deep, penetrating blue-gray eyes, a stern nose, and chiseled features I associate with high royalty. His brown hair is neck-length and pulled back in a short tail, and he has a thin beard and mustache on his smiling face.

  He wears the armor of a king, with a white flowing silk tunic emblazoned with a giant black eagle. He looks like a young hunk pulled straight from the films of Hollywood from some sword-and-sorcery epic. There’s not a spot on him without muscles I’d like to touch. He wears a gold crown emblazoned with dragons, lions, and fierce knights.

  It scares me I forget about Brad so quickly.

  He stands and smiles, holding out his hand. “Jessica. One of the Seraphim. Welcome to my humble abode. There is no need to fear, for you are home.”

  CHAPTER XVII:

  He Looks Like a King

  He takes my hand and leads me inside. The inside of the tent is covered with riches, red silks, gold-leaf covered chairs with cushions, tables full of food, gold platters and flatware, expensive-looking tapestries, a full brass stove glowing and giving warmth, pillows everywhere, and furniture I would expect to be in an antique shop somewhere. A high-end antique shop, let me correct myself.

  “Who are you?”

  He smiles and directs me to a cushioned chair.

  “King Tanas of the Ashed Kingdom.”

  “Tanas?” I sit, and he takes my cloak off from behind. “A king? No, please, I should take that off-”

  He places my cloak over another chair and smiles. “It is my honor. I welcome you here Seraph Jessica. Such beautiful black wings. My, I have not seen such marvelous beauty in such a long, long time. Please, make yourself at home. My home is yours. Take off your gloves, you have no need for armor here.”

  I hesitate, but really, I have no idea of how to fight or have any use for armor other than decoration and clothing, so I struggle and take them off. It feels good since my hands and arms were working up a sweat anyways.

  He laughs and sits across from me, leaning near and smiling. His eyes are lit by the candles around us, with a sparkle in each. He reaches out and offers his hand to me. I take it, and he cradles my hand in the both of his.

  “Please be at home, me and my men mean you no harm. I understand you should be quite confused, as it is with any of your kind. The choosing process is never easy, and many do not survive. For you to make it this far is a very special thing indeed.”

  He holds my hands, his eyes warm and inviting. “Black wings as well.”

  I blink, his hands warm around mine, soft, and comforting. “I don’t understand. Who are you? Why did you call me that? Who are you? Who are these people?” I drop my head, feeling everything collapse around me. “What is happening to me?”

  He squeezes my hands. “I was waiting for you to ask that. Those questions shall be answered, you must trust me. For now, you are my guest, and a welcome and honored friend.”

  “I don’t know you.” I shake my head. “How can I trust you if I don’t know you?”

  A smile leaps to his lips. “The men outside place their faith in me, and I promise upon the glory of God that I shall not hurt you. I am a friend, Seraph Jessica, and you look tired.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that, Seraph?”

  “Because,” he says with a nod, “you, Seraph Jessica, are one of the chosen. Only angels have wings.”

  “Black wings?” I squeeze his hand tightly to make my point. “Why black?”

  “You are,” Tanas says, slowing his words, “an angel of death.”

  I feel myself shaking uncontrollably at the words, and I’m breathing fast. My heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest. I begin to hyperventilate. “No. No. No, I can’t be. No. No. Why me? Why? I’m a what? I’m a-”

  He holds my hands tighter, pulling me closer. “Shh. Shh. Jessica. You are fine. You are well. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Everything is going to be all right. Please, please, have a drink. Settle yourself.”

  He offers me a goblet of water and I drink, nearly spilling it all over myself. I gasp and I feel like I am going to throw up. I have trouble putting the golden goblet back down on the table, and he helps me, keeping one of his hands on mine.

  “B-bad? You call this, g-good?” I gasp for air, nearly crying and sobbing as I feel everything coming down around me. “You’re, you’re not me, how would you ever know? My God, no.”

  It feels like a doctor saying you have cancer and three months to live. You were fine walking in, but things will never be the same walking out.

  “Are you-are you sure?” I’m begging him for a second opinion, crying my guts out. “Can’t we get rid of them? My wings, get rid of them?”

  “Yes, but no. There’s no reason to be afraid, Jessica.” He squeezes my hands tightly, his blue-ish eyes locked on mine. “You are going to be perfectly fine. Becoming a Seraph is not a death sentence.”

  “B-but, how can being an angel of death not be a death sentence?”

  “Jessica!” He laughs and strokes my arm. “You are very funny. Silly almost for a Seraph. Think of it this way. You will never age, never get sick, never starve, and never die. Truly die I should say, not in the normal sense. You will stay young and virile forever, your beauty everlasting. Those wings will stay with you forever, those beautiful wings. Have you flown with them yet?”

  “F-flown?” I feel myself calming, maybe it’s not as bad as I thought. No, it’s probably worse than I thought, but something about him is so calming and reassuring I can’t help to feel myself being put at ease by his presence.

  “What are wings for if you can’t fly?” He laughs. “All Seraphim can fly, and it is a glorious and wonderful thing! I shall take it upon myself to teach you all the wonderful gifts you have, if you only will believe in yourself.”

  He pauses, holding my hands. “Will you promise me that?”

  I nod. He seems nice. I need to know one thing. “What do you want from me?”

  “Smart.” He smiles. “They said you were smart.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “You know the others? The old man in the graveyard? The skeleton? The burning man?”

  He nods, and I feel myself pull away. He pulls me back. “Jessica, I’m not like them at all. Look at me. Do I seem old, decrepit, hateful, or has the skin fallen off my bones? I know them, but it doesn’t mean I always agree with them. This time it’s very different.”

  “Different, how?”

  “I need friends. We need friends, allies. To put it short, we need you. That burning man, as you say? One of us. The old man? Also one of us, along with the skeleton that likely gave you the beautiful armor you wear.”

  “The old man sent me away when the burning man came to him.” My fingernails dig into his flesh, and I see the pain in the corner of his eye. “He destroyed everything. I nearly died looking at him.”

  “But,” he says, leaning into my gaze, “you didn’t. You are special.”

  “He seems to have a huge chip on his shoulder.”

  King Tanas nods. “He is very hateful, indeed. The old man, the skeleton, and I - we need you. The burning man has grown such in might he threatens to destroy us all. Only a Seraph, born of fire and unholy might, can challenge him. This burning man, the herald of war himself, has grown too powerful. If he is not dealt with, I am afraid this shall not only be the end of your world, but all of us together.”

  I am silent, the tears staining my face.

  King Tanas holds my hands tight. “Jessica. We need you to help us stop him.”

  �
�I don’t know how. Why me? What makes me so special?”

  “We shall teach you.” He nods almost imperceptibly. “And you? You are wondering why you, out of the infinite souls which could have been chosen, are the one sitting in front of me now?”

  I wait on his every breath, for every word he does not say.

  “When you saw this death, this terrible destruction the burning man hath wrought, you in your heart made a choice for peace, not war.” He stares at me with deep intensity. “In the face of such brutality, when the ones you loved were already gone, you chose life.”

  “How can an angel of death choose life?” I blink, not knowing what I should say or do. “Shouldn’t I be something different than this?”

  “The moment makes the hero.” He loosens his grip on my hands, stroking my fingers almost lovingly. “God chose you at that moment, and all of us knew it.”

  “Then.” I grab his hand. “Who are you?”

  “We are the heralds of the end of days, Jessica.” He lowers his gaze to meet mine. “Since the beginning of time we have returned again and again to do the bidding of prophecy. We do the work of God, all of us, these are his prophecies, not ours. Myself? I am King Tanas, one of the four, the man who rides the white horse, king of all men and ruler of all.”

  “King of what?”

  “Nations, kingdoms, religions. I am presidents and pharaohs, holy men and politicians, kings, queens, prime ministers, or those simply with a powerful voice. I can take many forms, but I inspire, lift up, and give people hope. They believe in my words, and in turn I allow them to do great things. I am that voice inside every man and woman speaking to their hopes and fears, and I am also the personification of those hopes and fears.”

  “How can you be everybody?” I shake my head.

  “Jessica.” He strokes my cheek softly. “When you pass into this realm, this existence, things work a little differently than you expect. You have no concept for how things are, but they are. If I say I am all of those things, I am the hopes and fears of every man, then I simply am.

  It is like your first day at school, people told you ‘A is for apple’ and you believed them. Once you believe some certain things, put your trust in a man, a cause, or even a symbol, a whole new world of possibilities opens up to you. Language is the belief in symbols. Order is the belief in society. Magic is the belief in possibilities. I am your friend.”

  “Why do you say that?” I shake my head. “You’re not my friend. Why should I trust you?”

  “Jessica.” He pulls my hand close to him. “Do you have anyone else you can trust?”

  We’re quiet a moment, and I reluctantly nod. “If you know so much, then why am I like this?” I feel myself getting upset again. “Why?”

  “The burning man.” King Tanas’ words come slowly. “He stopped your ascension to Heaven. He is the one who forced the path which turned you into this. These are the things we have dominion over, the creation of the heralds of death. You are one of us now, a servant to the four, but a very powerful one mind you. You have the powers of the Kingdom of Heaven, ones likely you do not know, but your powers are tainted by the magic of Death itself.”

  “Tainted wings, black with my sins and hatred.” I drop my head, blinking. “Why? Why not just let me die and go to Heaven?”

  “That one act. The one thought you had. God will not let the burning man take the world, not this time. It was your prayer that was heard.” The King lets my hands go. “The burning man needs to break you. To do so would be to spit in the face of God.”

  “I don’t know what you mean? What did I do? What did I tell God?”

  “One prayer can change everything.” He shakes his head. “When your family died, your thirst for vengeance was extinguished for a call for peace and understanding. God heard you. His mercy be upon thee. That one prayer should have stopped all this.”

  I blink. “Should? You mean there’s a chance?”

  “God listens, but it is up to those who believe to act.” He nods. “You are correct, should. Meddling hath brought our current paradox upon us, not by the burning man, but by you.”

  I feel the panic well up inside me. “What did I do?”

  “You tried to change everything. Now, nothing is certain. Well, I stand corrected, one thing is certain. The burning man wishes to break you.”

  “Why?” I can’t take all this in, I’m feeling so confused and alone, and my head is swimming in a thousand fears and thoughts. Was it me that caused all of this by trying to go back and save my family? Why is he saying this? How does he know? Who is he? How can I fix things? Can I? What do I do?

  I need to focus, to figure out a way forward, if there is one. I need information. “What does the burning man want with me? What do you mean, break?”

  “To break your spirit, to rekindle your thirst for vengeance. To say this succinctly, he needs you to reject God, to take back that prayer through your actions and wishes. It would also mean the prayer is not made with heart and honest love, and he would win. Everything, all of us, him, and your world. Everything would be over.”

  CHAPTER XVIII:

  I Am So Numb

  I don’t know what to think.

  Do I trust him? I have no idea. He seems nice, like your typical king in some cable TV swords-and-sorcery show. He seems to know more about the situation I’m trapped in than anyone else so far.

  So I guess I’m dead. I don’t know how or why, but I assume I have passed away. Being dead changes a lot for me. First, my priorities change, I’m not going to worry about saving my life anymore, or trying to reverse what’s happened to me. Life, it’s called living with the hand you’re dealt.

  It also means I’ll never be my old self again. If I’m stuck being a stupid seventeen year old angel of death all my life, I’m stuck. Possibly. I guess. I have no idea. I close my eyes as the confusion washes over me.

  What do I do?

  The burning man is the one who did this to me. If I’m heading to Heaven to be with my family, I need to do something. What? I have no clue, and the King didn’t let on anything else other than he needed me. I think that’s where the ‘trust’ thing comes in, but I’m so lost and confused I don’t even know where to start.

  For what?

  Beware of kings bearing gifts I suppose, but he seems nice enough. I also need to stop thinking of myself so negatively, I may be dead, but at least I’m alive. No, wait, nevermind. At least I’m young, and I am starting to come around to the realization that I may not be so stupid after all. I haven’t forgot anything, so I have the advantage of having lived nearly two of my current seventeen-year old lives in this head of mine.

  Going back and doing it again. Once, a long time ago I wished for that. Funny.

  I know how to balance a checkbook, drive a car, take out a mortgage, open a bank account, and apply for a small business license - in short, nothing that would help me in my current situation.

  I’ve watched plenty of television and movies about kings and Dark Age fantasy epics. I know how these people act, back-stab each other, and sleep with each other in gratuitous brothel scenes. I know how a 3d dragon is animated. I know that in Hollywood, all those sword blows are fake. I guess I know how fantasy people talk to each other in nays and whatnots. In short, nothing that would help me in my current situation.

  What am I going to do? It feels like a nightmare that just won’t stop, and it keeps getting stranger and stranger. This is usually the point where people bite the bullet and chalk it up to pure faith.

  If God wants me, he can have me.

  Will he take an angel of death? I pull at my black feather, and discover yes, they do hurt if I pull on them. Am I stuck with these like some Gothic Lolita? God help me.

  Well, if he wanted me before, maybe Heaven is a place of second chances.

  I need to get back to my family, or at least make sure future me is all right. That’s all I care about. If I can get through whatever this King wants me to do, stop the burning ma
n, and prove myself to God - maybe by some miracle I can be reborn and move on.

  Hey, if it worked for Jesus, it may work for me.

  Still, I have a lot to think about, but the weariness of everything that happened to me catches up to me, and I feel my eyes grow heavy.

  I ask King Tanas if I can lie down, and he gives me one of the adjoining tents connecting to us. In a way, I wasn’t surprised to see a full bedroom set with a four-post canopy bed in here, complete with dressers, vanities, full-length mirrors, a wardrobe, a desk, couches, chairs, and any other amenity I could think of in a high-priced hotel room. The bath is full of hot water, so I remove my armor and bathe, and switch into one of the black nightshirts I find in the dresser.

  I hang my useless sword by the bedpost, in case I need to embarrass myself with it and die shortly afterwards. I seriously have no idea how to fight with that thing.

  My wings? I have no idea how I am going to keep them clean. Maybe they don’t. Maybe I can will them clean. If not, I’ll probably need to find a lake, or hire servants to wash them for me.

  Still, the thought of being able to keep them clean by my will alone intrigues me enough to try, so I sit in the middle of my bed and focus on them, thinking clean thoughts and the smell of fresh laundry. If it works to take me to other places, it should work to take care of them, right?

  What do you know, it works. Nice trick. If only I could clean my house this way.

  The black feathers of my wings are soft and fluffy, not matted down from the rain, and they smell like my favorite fabric softener, spring glade. I wrap my soft, fluffy, beautiful, black feather pillow wings around myself and fall asleep.

  I’m finally learning how to accept them. Maybe. I forget about my sleeping problem. The one where I can never predict where I wake up.

  CHAPTER XIX: