by J F Cain
I have to regain my influence over him, she thought anxiously. But how would she manipulate him if he didn’t let her approach him in the way she knew better than any other? Was that what he was trying to tell her with his repeated refusals? That she had to find another way to approach him? She couldn’t make head or tail of his conflicting behavior. She sensed that he was still in love with her. But then why had he gone with Estaria? It wasn’t like him to get involved with female Demons and fallen. The Fiends she had sent to find out about his love life had come back emptyhanded. If he did have sex, even with physical beings, no one in Eregkal knew of it. She seemed to be the only one he loved.
The vivid image of Abriel enjoying sex with the fallen princess sprang to her mind, erasing all certainty.
His love for her wasn’t that powerful, after all. Maybe it was just ego that had been partially appeased; and since he wanted to be independent, maybe he was trying to wipe out the remaining traces of his lingering feelings in Estaria’s arms. The possibility that he was no longer in love with her upset her in a way she couldn’t explain. As did the memory of his encounter with the fallen princess. For some reason she didn’t understand, his betrayal hurt her.
It’s probably my own ego, she explained her own incomprehensible feelings away in a spontaneous act of sincere self-criticism. As soon as she registered what had crossed her mind, she became even more upset. I’m changing, she realized with dismay. The truth made her shudder with fear, the fear of inner growth that beings feel when faced with change and its ramped-up demands. Maybe that was what Abriel was trying to do, and that was why he was paying her back in her own coin. Seen that way, his stance made sense, as did his discussion with Estaria. He probably still cared about her, which was why he had asked Asmodeus’s snooty deputy not to engage with her. But if he still wanted her, then why had he spoken so disparagingly about her? He had called her a “vile entity” and his stance toward Estaria, who he obviously considered superior, seemed sincere.
Lyla felt like screaming, both with irritation and from that indefinable twinge she felt at the thought of the two lovers. Still, something about the whole issue didn’t sit right with her. Why hadn’t the Sorcerer concealed such a—in many ways—dangerous encounter? And what was the right decision Estaria had made that he approved of?
She rested her elbow on the throne’s gold-inlaid armrest, leaned back and, with an unaccustomed calmness, waited for Abriel to finish his job on the physical plane. When some time has passed, she got up and descended the steps of the pyramid-shaped dais.
Now I’ll find out if he truly cares. And more …, she thought, feeling a worry that felt very much like fear.
CHAPTER 18
The celestial couple and the centuries-old theurgist reached the entrance hall and then went through a door craftily hidden in the wall’s wooden paneling beneath the stairway leading to the second floor. Abaddon immediately noticed the dampness in the air, and in the faint light passing through the open door he saw a narrow stone gallery that faded into the darkness. Eiael hit the switch on the wall and light filled the tunnel from old light fixtures connected to each other with external wires—an indication that electrical lighting had been installed long after the arched passageway’s construction.
“Please watch your step so that you don’t slip,” she told Aranes and walked ahead.
Abaddon looked down at the large slate slabs on the floor. They glistened, much like an icy road, and would probably be as slippery. He closed the door behind him and gripped his partner’s arm.
“There’s no reason to worry. Don’t forget that you can heal me, no matter what happens,” Aranes told him with an indecipherable look on her face. She freed her arm and followed the theurgist.
“Yes, I keep forgetting,” Abaddon admitted grumpily and hurried to her side.
With Eiael in front, they walked a few feet, went down some steps, and continued down another gallery. Only the sound of their steps could be heard bouncing off the arched ceiling along with the faint whisper of the theurgist’s gown trailing on the floor. Their shadows chased each other like dark phantoms on the stone walls, which were becoming increasingly wetter the further along they went. After a steep narrow stairway, they arrived in a semicircular space. Other passageways radiated out from there, so dark that they looked like massive mouths ready to devour any defilers and the uninitiated who dared to walk their secret paths.
Eiael raised her right arm and gave a mental command. White light enveloped her hand and she proceeded to one of the passageways on the right. With energy from the higher spheres lighting their way in the dark, they walked a bit further until they came to a big slab of solid iron that loomed over them, preventing their passage. It looked like a massive door, but it had no lock or handle. The only things on it were five arcane sigils engraved in the four corners and the center. Eiael rested her bright palm on the sigil in the center. Like a force awakening from its slumber, the sigil became activated, illuminating its engraved markings. A vertical line that split the door in two began beneath the theurgists palm and beamed out toward the edges. The massive panels opened slowly, revealing the dense darkness that lay beyond them.
As soon as the theurgist took the first step, a yellowish light appeared out of nowhere to reveal a large hall that was enveloped in a mystical atmosphere. Aranes and Abaddon entered, and he looked around him, impressed. The crypt seemed to exist in a time of its own, adrift among eternity’s endless spirals. Colorful oil lamps hung from gold chains affixed to the tall light-colored walls. The supernatural flame burning inside them emblazed the etched symbols on them, diffusing their golden light which intermingled with the colorful glints of the glass lamp shades. Among the lamps hung open scrolls written in the language of the Celestials and illuminated with schematic representations of antediluvian symbols. Although exceptionally old, the Guardians’ sacred texts remained untouched by the ravages of time, and charged with spiritual energy as they were, they possessed an unnatural vibrancy.
Abaddon raised his eyes to the ceiling. It seemed to be too high up, especially for an underground chamber. Taking into account that it was a castle in which the magical and supernatural were par for the course, he assumed that the room had been built to fit the kneeling statue at its center. It was of a man three times the size of ordinary humans, naked but for the fabric around his hips. His hands were resting on his bent knee and his head was bowed, as if he were submitting to an invisible presence or praying for salvation.
Probably both, thought Abaddon, seeing the tension in the giant’s features.
The scent of frankincense and flowers in the air made the crypt seem like a private chapel in which mystery and sanctity reigned. Nothing worldly touched this sanctum, which seemed to dwell in a dimension all its own, guarding its ancient secrets.
“What is this place?” Abaddon asked, but what he really wanted to know was why they had brought him here.
“This is the castle’s most sacred place. The source of our powers,” Eiael announced in a tone even more serious than usual.
The Dark Angel tilted his head toward the statue.
“Does it have to do with him?”
“With him also,” the theurgist clarified.
“Who is he?”
“He is the last of the Nephilim.”
“They were the children of the Elohim, the first Celestials to leave Elether because they fell in love with human women,” Aranes explained, joining the discussion.
Abaddon had read about the Elohim. The fallen Angels were mentioned in the sixth chapter of Genesis, in the apocryphal book of Enoch, and in other texts as the sons of God. While performing their duty of watching over humans and Earth, two hundred one of these high-ranking Celestials fell in love with mortal women, were incarnated, and had sexual intercourse with them. The former Celestials shared forbidden knowledge with their partners, and others, which affected how humans evolved in a variety of ways. The union of the divine with the human and the unnatura
l beings that resulted from it displeased God, and feeling that earthly beings had reached the depths of corruption and wretchedness, He decided to destroy everything, save for Noah and his family.
The antediluvian story existed in many mythologies. The difference in some tales was that god was more reasonable, less irritable, and more aware of his responsibility toward his creations, not seeing them as defective and destroying them as a result.
“I know their story. We’ve talked about them. Don’t you remember?” Abaddon asked Aranes.
“I remember very well. What we didn’t discuss were their descendants,” she replied and then went on: “The children born of the union of these disparate beings were giants, superior to humans in everything.”
She looked at Eiael, and the theurgist then continued the tale.
“They seemed to be the perfect beings for guarding the Occult Knowledge passed on to them by their fathers. However, their strength and their abilities made them arrogant. They became ruthless tyrants.”
“The same old story,” Abaddon remarked. “So, what actually happened to them?”
The Superior approached the statue with compassion in her silver eyes. She rested her hand on his head and then stroked his stone hair tenderly, as if comforting a wounded being.
“The Source judged that they were no longer worthy of the Knowledge, so It obliterated them to preserve the human race,” she said with her gaze pinned on the giant.
“It was then that our ancestors were chosen to assume the duty of safeguarding the Occult Knowledge. They became the first Guardians,” Eiael added and pointed to the statue. “This is Elas. The only Naphal that regretted what he had done and asked the Source for forgiveness. It gave him a second chance, on one condition: when the time comes when It will need his services, he will come back to life to pay his debt.”
Abaddon’s curiosity was sparked.
“In other words, this isn’t a real statue! He was reduced to this state while he was still alive!” he said, regarding the inert giant with renewed interest.
“Precisely; and he is still considered alive,” Eiael replied.
Abaddon approached the kneeling Naphal and used his ethereal vision to examine the matter of which his body was made. It wasn’t white stone or marble, as he had initially assumed. It was a blend of earthly and ethereal components whose particles didn’t show the usual activity. They were in a state of torpor, producing only a faint pulsing motion.
“And why are you telling me all this?” he asked with seeming indifference as he studied the unusual being’s internal organs. He had realized that he wasn’t being shown the giant for the purpose of enhancing his knowledge.
Aranes withdrew her hand from Elas and turned to look at her partner.
“The Source chose you and Gabriel to restore balance on Earth. And you did this by sowing discord among the Nephelim. So they wiped each other out.”
The fact that she didn’t answer his question didn’t escape Abaddon. But because his mentor never did anything without a reason, he let her guide the conversation.
“The Nephelim’s superiority was what corrupted them,” Aranes went on, looking into his eyes with a sober gaze. “It is very difficult for someone with special powers to handle his uniqueness. And, of course, such entities are targeted by Demons, who wish to make them their puppets. One needs strength and wisdom to withstand the dark influences. If a being with supernatural abilities succumbs and uses his powers in the service of Darkness, he can cause great upheaval in the balance of power. Such a choice would be devastating, both for the being and for evolution.”
If Abaddon had had any doubts at all about whether his partner knew of Lucifer’s involvement in her healing, her words erased them. But why was she having this discussion in front of Eiael, who was already having a difficult time trusting him? There was no way she wanted to make him look bad. Did she maybe want to show him that she trusted her spiritual daughter completely? And if so, why? A nasty suspicion crossed his mind. She might be preparing him so that if she left him, the theurgist could take over his spiritual guidance. The thought brought with it an unpleasant numbness. Was it his fear speaking, or his intuition? He couldn’t know, and if he asked Aranes in private, he would reveal his greatest fear. And he didn’t want that. In which case, he was forced to deal with the matter alone.
“I am well aware of the results of demonic influence,” he assured his partner, without betraying his annoyance at her lack of trust in him.
“Knowing something doesn’t always determine our behavior, and when it comes to humans, almost never,” his mentor pointed out.
“Did you bring me here to discuss the matter of my human consciousness?” Abaddon asked, confused by her answer.
“No, I brought you here to show you a brilliant example of Lucifer’s influence. The first guardians of the Knowledge succumbed to the idea of their superiority and disrupted the balance,” Aranes said, pointing to Elas. “He was the only survivor of the beings which, because of their unique abilities, considered themselves the gods of men. But balance is the law of the universe. It must be upheld at any cost. That is the Celestials’ duty.”
Her uncompromising tone and the sorrow in her eyes perplexed Abaddon.
What is she saying? he wondered. That if I cooperate with Lucifer, she’ll make the almighty Michael annihilate me? If she doesn’t do it herself? He had no intention of serving his enemy, and, of course, if he did do something so enormously stupid, he would deserve to be wiped out. Even so, the veiled threat coming from the lips of his beloved pained him, so he wasted no time clarifying his intentions. “Since balance is so important, I will support it with …” he began, but left the sentence hanging when he sensed the sanctum’s peaceful atmosphere suddenly change. He swung his head to where he felt the negative energy amass and saw Lyla appear, her materialized form protected by its symbiotic armor.
“Sorry to interrupt your enlightenment, Abby, but I’m here to take your precious on a little jaunt,” she mocked while armored Demons materialized all around her.
Abaddon immediately stepped in front of Aranes and his clothes were replaced with his battle apparel.
“I’ve heard of a place called Hell. That’s where you’ll be going, but alone!” he growled as he conjured his swords.
Eiael stretched her hand out toward the two Celestials’ feet and her palm filled with light.
“Inea valen,” she commanded.
Beams of yellowish light leaped from the slate slabs on the floor and formed a protective circle around Aranes and Abaddon.
But Lyla was prepared for the theurgist’s reaction. She aimed a mocking look full of challenge at her and shouted the magic word that erased the protective circle. “Cevarem!”
Eiael was taken aback. She wondered where the Succubus had learned the secret word that every Guardian leader passed on to their successor in a confidential process no Demon knew about.
“Agenem ome roal, mareh diede,” she cried out in an authoritative voice.
The flames in the lamps were snuffed out, as if extinguished by a strong current of air. Deep darkness settled on the sanctum and the sudden silence was filled with low creaks that presaged some mysterious manifestation.
Hidden behind her partner, Aranes brought her mouth close to his ear.
“Abaddon, more Demons will appear. Eliminate them all, but don’t reveal your hidden powers,” she whispered, wanting to put fear in the hearts of her pursuers so that they would gain some time.
The Dark Angel realized her purpose.
“Your wish is my command,” he replied, intentionally conveying extreme confidence.
The intimidation worked. The Demons were taken aback upon hearing the name of the commander of the Defenders and the intimation about his hidden powers. They glanced at each other uncertainly until their eyes all finally settled on Lyla, demanding an explanation. The Succubus smiled slyly and reassured them with a shake of her head. Her nonchalance convinced the Demons. Embo
ldened, they studied the Celestial’s energy, which was surrounding his body. It didn’t look like that of the commander of the Defenders, which they all knew from their failed raids on Elether’s borders. In the strange entity’s aura they could see individualism’s somber tint, and the unnatural fire burning in his eyes didn’t resemble a Celestial’s.
Aranes had succeeded in gaining them time. The scant seconds that passed since the dark entities’ appearance were enough for the theurgists Eiael had summoned to come through the invisible hyperdimensions. A lone sword enveloped in golden-blue fire appeared in the darkness. One after the other, more fiery swords materialized until the one side of the sanctum was filled with brilliant flames. Complementing them were Abaddon’s red blades, their gray energy swirling menacingly around them.
The radiant energy of the supernatural weapons revealed the earthly warriors of Light standing there with their swords in their hands. They were all wearing white shirts and pants tucked into their boots, and their upper bodies was covered with silver breastplates, pauldrons and protective plates on their arms. Like the rest of the Guardians, Eiael’s sword had symbols of power engraved on the one side of the long thin blade. Without a trace of fear on their cold faces, she and Fares stood on the front line, next to Abaddon, while behind them the order’s best warriors had formed protective circles around Aranes and the immobilized Nephilim.
“Isalke roa,” Eiael commanded in a loud voice, and the flames in the lamps lit up once again to help the Guardians in the battle. Da hategem vyrel theman to aore devana, she added silently so that the Demons wouldn’t hear the command.
A low eerie sound coming from the scrolls began to spread throughout the sacred crypt. The theurgist’s mental command had transformed the sanctum into an otherworldly energy field that enhanced the Guardians’ powers while weakening the Demons’. The dark entities had the strange sense that the walls were absorbing part of their strength, and the strange sound, which to their ears was like the cries of souls out for revenge, frightened them and spurred them to action. At once they conjured their swords and surged into battle. The prize was too big for them to back down.