The face of one of the humans tipped downward. Her white eyes fell upon my back; the glowing balls must have been flickering with a light that drew her attention. “O Great One,” she said. “The sacrifice… She has…” Her speech halted as she stepped backward.
They’d grown large enough that they should burn clean through Rehniah’s wings if I focused just right, burning away the plug and severing her cords. I couldn’t wait any longer.
As I prepared to move, Rehniah grabbed onto my side and yanked me off-balance. The humans let go of me and scattered, and I lost my leverage, nearly knocking the fireballs loose. I grabbed at them with my hands—carefully, carefully—cupping them. I could feel the heat as they hovered above my palms, trying to tip free.
Blood oozed from the wounds all over my body, golden with swirls of blue. The last of my power had gone into making these weapons, and I had to hit her with them before she did something to stop me.
“What are you doing?” shouted Rehniah. “Do you know how dangerous that is?” She stepped backward, then backward again.
Laying on the floor, I poised to throw.
Rehniah flattened her palm. A fireball sparked in her hand and grew.
But not fast enough.
With the last of my fading strength, I twisted my agonized arms to throw the fireballs straight at her, praying silently that they would fly straight and true.
Rehniah lifted her arms as if to ward them off.
They punched through her chest and went out the other side. The cords of power burned brilliant bronze and then snapped free, reeling high into the sky.
The scream of the Aleph filled the Temple, an unholy sound that reverberated off the wooden, arched ceiling.
Rehniah’s arms flailed where her hands used to be, the stumps seared shut. Two charred, bloodless holes on each side of her chest revealed the mural on the Temple wall of herself gazing down at the Matron and Patron with a look of benevolence.
Rehniah fell to her knees, and I braced for her to burst apart into a thousand droplets, just as Asorat had, just as Kaspen had, just as Voctic had, just as Yasva had. I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn’t. I watched, forcing myself to stay calm, waiting for the inevitable.
CHAPTER 54
Rehniah, wounded, face horrified, screaming in anguish, stayed alive and fell to her knees.
Source, what’s happening? I prayed desperately. She might have been ancient and twisted by selfish ambition, but she was suffering. Please! Help us!
A boom shook the Temple, and every human being collapsed where they stood, eyes wide and staring.
The Aleph wailed. Brown tears flowed from her eyes, leaving trails of dark ooze down her face.
A moan sounded in the distance. A rush of wind swept over me but didn’t rustle my garment.
The Nephilim looked around, no longer working on the symbols, and the Archangels flapped, peering in all different directions.
A roar blasted through the Temple. Lying on my side, I clamped my hands to my ears, which rang and sang and burned. The Archangels fell from the sky, landing in the Temple and pressing their foreheads to the ground.
Rehniah shrieked again, wailed, pressed her stumps to her chest.
A brilliant light blinded me. Although I clamped my eyes shut, the brilliance burned. The rushing wind reached a crescendo, and my shriek of pain joined the others.
And then silence struck me, thick and potent, and the light cut off.
I forced my eyes open.
A glittering mass of stars and darkness vaguely the shape of an angel stood between Rehniah and me. It shone with the light of the Nexus and with the dark of midnight. Unspeakable and wondrous things shifted inside it. I stared and stared, losing myself to shapes and colors I’d never witnessed before, awe and fear crashing in my chest like a tidal wave across a beach.
The Source had embodied Itself.
It strode from the center of the circle to stand over Rehniah. She cringed but glared defiantly up at It, still clutching her arms against herself as if trying to hide the holes in her chest.
The Source’s hand reached down, purposeful and slow, until It grasped her by the chin. It studied her, the stars shifting against the tapestry of velvet night. When It spoke, the voice echoed through my head, a lyrical melody that was without form or rhythm, yet beautiful, terrible, frightening.
You have betrayed me, Rehniah-Lycif.
I sucked in a breath. The Source had just announced her true name in a voice I would remember for centuries to come. It was made of discordant melodies and beautiful harmonies, the sound as potent in my memory as at that very moment.
Rehniah staggered to her feet. She looked at the Archangels surrounding us, still on their knees. Something flashed across her features, something greedy, hungry, terrible. “You can’t share my true name with those I haven’t bestowed it upon!”
The Source lowered Its arm from where it had cupped her chin. It regarded her. I can do whatever I choose, for I am the Source of all creation. I am so very disappointed, Rehniah-Lycif. You were my beautiful angel and I loved you first.
“Even though I served you faithfully since the dawn of time, you don’t love me more. You’re proving that now!” Tears glimmered in her eyes.
No. My love is equal for all my creations.
“I was here before everyone else. You and I created Heaven and Earth. How can you not love me more?”
You never have enough. The roaring wind returned for a heartbeat. The Source had sighed. Though that is why I love you. It’s what drove you to create everything for Me. Yet it is your downfall, Rehniah-Lycif.
Rehniah trembled. “My name! You keep speaking my name!”
The Source nodded. Let this be a reminder to everyone that I will not allow this greed and treachery. It never took Its eyes from Rehniah. Though I allow humans and angels leave to choose their own fates, this is a betrayal of the highest order, a disruption of too many lives, and I will not allow it.
The Source flicked a finger and Rehniah fell to her knees. On her back were the tatters of her wings, dripping brown blood.
This is your second punishment.
Rehniah’s wings disappeared, not in an explosion, not in a bursting of droplets into the air. Instead, one moment they hung loose, and the next they were gone, the last bit evaporated.
“But you gave those to me before the dawn of time!” A sob choked from her chest. “I’ve never been without them, not for thousands of years!”
Yes. The sadness behind that word was immeasurable. Rehniah-Lycif, you are no longer a member of the Heavenly realm. Because of your treachery, you must make your own home away from here. You have no contrition in your heart, this I see. You may never have contrition in your heart, this I know. And so, I must estrange you.
“But you don’t exile demons. You— You let them choose— You always let them choose—”
You chose, my child. Long ago, you chose.
Rehniah’s cry was filled with regret. “No, not this! I didn’t believe you’d do this to me. I thought”—she choked again on a sob—”I thought I would always have a place! You promised we would never be punished like this! I can’t believe they’re gone…” The last word became a wail and she fell forward, sobbing.
Zaponsla sniffled, and I found my own cheeks wet with tears. Every Archangel was crying, tears streaking down their faces. A pair of Nephilim who’d fallen outside the Temple’s door clutched one another, their heads buried against each other’s shoulders. The humans surrounding us were still unconscious.
The Source watched Rehniah silently.
I struggled to my feet.
“Please. Anything but this.” Rehniah sobbed, her face buried against the stumps of her hands, her tunic stained bronze and gold and silver and brown.
I limped toward her, the pain in my sides and wings still sharp enough that I gasped. I tiptoed past the Source, expecting that It would stop me at any moment. But I reached the sobbing Aleph and knelt down.
“Rehniah,” I said.
She shook her head.
“Rehniah, there’s another choice.”
“I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t want to go to Hell. I don’t want to scavenge for angel water or suck out sustenance from humans. It hurts. Oh, please make it stop hurting!”
“When I killed Voctic, I thought it was the end for him. But it wasn’t. I watched him die—watched him burst apart into a thousand drops—and then I myself lifted him into the Source. But he wasn’t gone forever.”
Her sobs had quieted.
“He came to life again as a human named Chana.”
From across the room, Zaponsla gasped.
“She lived her life, ignorant of the demon she’d been previously, and when the Source revealed to her what she was, she remembered the decades inside It. It cleansed her of her hatred, and her time on Earth made her remember what she’d been long before you took her will and twisted it.”
“I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” I put a hand on her head. “I’m not saying this to heap guilt upon you. I’m saying this because perhaps the Source will do the same for you. Being absorbed by It isn’t the end. Instead, perhaps you can spend a decade, a century, a millennium, finding who It intended you to be.”
She was silent.
“Think about it.” I rose.
The Source was nodding. My Cornerstone is wise. She has learned much in the centuries she has been alive, and she has shown My benevolence today. This is the reason I created her, to remind you that kindness, forgiveness, and love may be something I have gifted to you, but that you are the ones who must use them.
I bowed my head. I hadn’t been looking for accolades. I only wanted Rehniah stop suffering.
And that is why you are such an excellent example. The Source was answering my unspoken thoughts now. You love her though she has made mistakes. You have compassion though you can’t understand what she’s done.
I nodded. Even Its feet swirled with innumerable galaxies and light untouched by angelic eyes.
Rehniah-Lycif, if you are ready to come with me, I will receive you into My embrace. You may return to your Source, and I will cleanse you. It will not be a short or easy process. You may have to endure it for a thousand lifetimes. But if your heart is willing, when you are finished, you will be whole and happy with your humble place in My creation.
Slowly, Rehniah shifted. She pushed her stumps against the floor, rising, eyes downcast. Lifting her head, she looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry, Enael. I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
She stepped slowly across the room and stood in front of the embodied Source.
Are you ready to leave this incarnation behind?
“Yes. I want to be rid of these horrible feelings. I no longer want to be who I’ve been. I want the pain to stop.”
It nodded.
The starry night flashed, blinding me. I blinked.
It—and Rehniah—were gone.
CHAPTER 55
I stared at the spot where the embodied Source and Rehniah had stood a moment before. The power that had coursed through me an hour ago was greatly diminished. The floor was covered in golden blood, but I’d stopped bleeding. Tentatively, I felt out my power: despite the eighteen tendrils feeding me from the Source, I had perhaps the strength of one Seraph. The power was slowly increasing, but it would be days, maybe weeks, before the full strength was restored.
And what will you do with it, Enael?
The Archangels rose and drifted toward me, slowly, with quick, quiet flaps. The Nephilim beyond were all looking in our direction. Zaponsla touched my elbow. “They’re waiting for you to say something.”
A groan came from across the room. The Patron rolled over and moaned again.
I had to take charge. No one else knew what to do.
But neither do I.
“Right,” I said. “We need to start cleaning up.”
I looked up into the sets of wide, silver eyes. Relief was washing through them at my words, that much I could tell from the calm looks on their faces.
I pointed to each of the Archangels in turn, my head swimming too much to remember their names. “You, go to the Archives basement and find the book I left in the nook. It should have instructions on how to restore symbols to the Source. You,” I pointed to another, “take one of Rehniah’s symbols and bring it to the Nexus to await me. You, take your platoon to the Praetorium and plan a storming of the fortress. The goal is to reclaim the swastikas. Get those to the Nexus, too. The rest of you, join the battle on Earth.”
“And the Vycanums?” said Zaponsla.
“I’ll speak to them. Now that Rehniah’s hold on them is gone, they’re no threat to us.”
The Archangels flapped away, rounded up the platoon, and disappeared.
The Patron pushed himself up and blinked. His eyes were deep brown again, no longer filmy and white. The Matron moaned, and soon she was pushing herself onto her feet.
“Do you think they can still see us?” whispered Zaponsla.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
As the others roused, I padded across the floor to stand in front of the two leaders. They rubbed their eyes and stretched their joints, and I cleared my throat.
Their gazes snapped to me.
They scrambled to their feet, only to fall to their knees.
“Forgive us, Cornerstone,” begged the Patron.
“We didn’t know what we were doing,” cried the Matron. She sounded on the verge of tears.
“Rise,” I replied. “I understand that the Aleph deceived you.”
“But we brought great harm to you,” choked out the Matron. “Your wings.”
“They’ll heal.” I would have scars, but the blood had stopped dripping, and the pain was dissipating. I was more concerned about the cuts on my torso, which still hurt when I moved, but I didn’t want to worry the humans. They would have enough to do, restoring the village to its former glory.
The Patron put a hand to his belly. “I’m sorry, Cornerstone, but my stomach hurts terribly. I’m famished.”
Murmurs of assent rippled from the gathering acolytes, who were forming a ring around us. They were kneeling, just as their leaders were, and I wanted to tell them to rise, that I didn’t deserve this honor. Not after standing in the presence of the Source.
“We haven’t eaten in days,” said the Matron. “The Aleph didn’t allow it.”
I was horrified. “Then please, go find something to eat. Clean up the destruction in the village. Return to your regular lives. Spend some time on yourselves.”
She nodded but continued looking at the floor.
“Rise, both of you.”
Slowly, giving glances to one another, they stood.
“This is likely the last time you’ll see an angel for a while. And when you do, we’ll come through the clearing again.” I had no idea how Rehniah had created the ability for them to see us, but I knew only a fraction of what was in the Book about Seraph abilities. “We will have no need of you for a while. The world war is going well, and we’re confident that we can win without your help.”
“Oh, no!” The Patron’s eyes went wide. “You’ve no need of us any longer?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Despite how much I’d grown, I still had a thing or two to learn about diplomacy. “I simply meant that you should spend time restoring your village. Please, continue to pray for us, but not at the expense of yourselves. We must have Vycanus in top form for all the things the future will bring. We will need you again, have no worry over that.”
They each bowed their heads once.
I stepped forward and kissed first the Patron’s cheek and then the Matron’s. She put her hand to where my lips had been and smiled.
“It’s an honor to serve,” she whispered.
“And I’m honored at your sacrifice,” I answered. “Let’s go, Zaponsla.”
I took her
hand and we faded back into Heaven.
I took us to the front of the Sanctuary.
“The Sanctuary?” said Zaponsla. “We need to check that the plans for storming the fortress are going well. And maybe we need to figure out how to get the Seraphim back. I don’t know how Heaven will function without them. Also, what do we do about the fallen Seraphim? Some of them might be running off to start up a new war. I doubt they’ll be successful, though, because the symbols belonged to Asorat.
“But I need to go find my platoon first and rally them to join in the fight on Earth. It’s going to be a while before we’ve defeated Adolf and restored order to the chaos. There’s just so much to do!”
When she stopped talking, I shook my head. “I’m going to see Voctic-Chana.” I smiled at the name—although I’d never used something like that for an angel, it seemed fitting.
“Oh, Enael!” To my surprise, Zaponsla threw her arms around me. “I knew he really loved you. I could tell from your memories, and I couldn’t imagine how sad he must have been to be forced to hurt you.”
“I know.”
She pulled back. “But I never expected that little Chana was Voctic! Although maybe it should have been obvious. She was really obsessed with Cistena’s library. Wouldn’t stop reading those Marquis de Sade books. I was getting a little worried about her fitness as a leader.”
I giggled and Zaponsla joined in.
“Well, now we don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “She’s Voctic, and he’s alive. But I need to go check on him. I have a feeling he’ll be all right, but I have to see it with my own eyes. The rest of Heaven and Earth can wait.”
I approached the Tender at the Sanctuary’s receiving desk. “I need to find Voctic. What room is he in? Or maybe he’s here as Chana?”
“Voctic-Chana, yes. Room 678.”
We hurried inside and through the halls. After all I’d been through, I was feeling impatient. Tenders ran here and there, wheeling patients, patching wounds, but the somberness of our makeshift Sanctuary on Earth had given way to an upbeat, cheery feel. Every one of those injured in battle would have a long fight ahead of themselves to become whole again—both in body and in mind—but now that the enemy was destroyed, the atmosphere had shifted for the better.
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