War of Wings

by War of Wings (ARC) (epub)

  The bridge itself was constructed of slabs of colorful marble that exuded a light glow. The end of the bridge opened to a courtyard with a seven-tiered fountain of pure water. Pure, pure. Everything was always pure. The base of the fountain was solid white pearl.

  Surrounding the courtyard were hedges manicured into perfect cubes with multicolored flowers growing inside. Lucifer straightened a flower as he passed, twisting it into position. In one corner, the hedges formed an archway that led to a golden step, which was the beginning of a solid-gold staircase. The staircase glistened from an intense glow. It was long and led directly to the upper levels and eventually, God’s throne. Two intense dominion angels guarded the entrance to the hierarchical levels, and as Lucifer and the seraphs passed by, they lowered their heads but did not speak.

  Lucifer reached the first step and began to climb the stairs. The majority of the angels following them had made it to their homes on the lower level below. Each shiny, solid step brought him higher and closer to God, and with each step, a deeper feeling of euphoria took over.

  “I love this feeling every time,” said Thyaterra.

  Lucifer, who was no stranger to that staircase or that feeling, replied, “Me too,” and smiled at her.

  “Remember Competia and Tameus?” interjected Bretabian.

  “Young fools,” Lucifer said.

  Two young angels had once decided to fly within the walls of the city as they raced each other past the dominions and thrones to see God up close. Each wanted to be first. They flew as fast as they could up the stairs, but a sudden rush of euphoria made them lose control at the summit, and they crashed right into His throne and fell at His feet. Tameus was left staring straight up at Him while Competia quickly covered up and lay face down in reverent fear. It was too much, too quickly for Tameus, and she was blinded for nine solid months. The idiot. No other angel had tried it since.

  “I think we’ve all been tempted to rush to the top,” Terra said.

  “I haven’t,” said Bretabian. “I know the proper path.”

  “We don’t all lack your imagination, Bretabian.” Lucifer fixed his gaze directly on the seraph. “But Competia and Tameus learned their lesson. Most angels do.”

  “That’s the thing about free will—we can’t always control others, even when we want to,” he said.

  “Smart angels learn quickly from their mistakes. They give respect where it is due.”

  “Smart angels know their place.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Oh nothing, cherub,” said Bretabian.

  “Bretabian!” said Thyaterra.

  I am the highest angel in Heaven, Lucifer thought. He held himself back from further conflict. Silence fell upon the group. After about an hour of ascending the golden staircase, they arrived at the first platform, where the order of the thrones resided. The buildings were detailed and elaborate, down to the tiniest piece of cloth. The décor was decadent—purple and red velvet trimmed in solid gold. The floor of the platform was also yellow gold and covered with rugs of fine silk. On the left and right sides were houses, each cut out of the finest gold. Behind them were other structures used for worship.

  Lucifer reached the second platform, where most of the cherubim resided. A great deal of housing existed on this level although not all of those angels stayed there permanently. The cherubim roamed much more freely than the thrones, and their homes were characterized by marble and stone rather than fine cloth and draperies. The buildings were taller, with pointed arches. Lucifer’s home was the largest and trimmed with the finest of Heaven’s jewels, but every time he went up there, he lamented the fact he did not have a throne. He should have one—this was clear to him—and it should be situated on the upper level next to God to signify his true role in Heaven.

  “I will see you tomorrow, Terra. I look forward to it every morning.” He hugged the six-winged beauty as the rest of the seraphim waited.

  “I look forward to seeing you every morning too. You did wonderful today. You are so blessed by God, and I thank Him every day for it,” she said.

  It’s not all Him, he thought. “Thank you.”

  “Goodbye, Lucifer,” said Bretabian briskly. He stood at a distance, obviously waiting for Thyaterra.

  “Bretabian.” Lucifer nodded, still looking at Thyaterra. He watched her shimmering silver dress float as elegantly as she did. She had the kindest eyes. Their hands separated, and she turned away. The moment was over.

  Lucifer pushed open the sixty-foot door to his extravagant chamber. Inside, ancient weapons were mounted on the walls like trophies. Through another sixty-foot archway, the next room held countless instruments in every shade of gold, silver, and bronze. They were displayed so thickly that the walls couldn’t be seen at all. Two elegant crystal tables were covered in the finest fruits of Heaven. One had light-colored fruit and the other strictly dark. Many of the light fruits had been eaten while the dark hadn’t been touched. Lucifer passed through a set of stained-glass doors that opened to a courtyard of perfectly manicured grass with a fountain directly in the middle. It was the only thing out there.

  He squeezed the lip of the stone edge with both hands. Closing his eyes, Lucifer drew a heavy, deep breath. God had to promote him this time. He must. What else could he do to earn it? Deep in the pit of his stomach he knew nothing would change. It never did.

  When Lucifer opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the water, he let out a sigh of relief and admired his new features. Most angels were blissful in their ignorance. How could anyone understand what he went through? No angel possibly could.

  “I hope you can, Father.”

  Sorry, Michael. Protect over half the angels of Heaven? No can do.” Gabriel’s hand closed around a low-hanging branch. “We can’t all be perfect.”

  “I’m not perfect, and you’re not listening to me.” Michael drew himself to his full height, wings half unfurling, but it only provoked Gabriel further.

  “Of course, you’re perfect.” His hand tightened on the smooth bark and the wood creaked, straining, before it split halfway through. “Like everything here. Everything except me.” He jerked on the branch and it broke off jaggedly, fruit shaking loose and raining down around Michael.

  “Stop that.”

  “Or what?” Gabriel reached for another branch and twisted it, the wood protesting and then shearing away as oranges shuddered loose. “It doesn’t matter—nothing changes. The tree will be fine. Nothing ever changes, Michael.”

  “You’ve got responsibilities. You think you can just walk away from them?”

  “Yes.”

  Michael stooped, gathering fruits so they would not go to waste. “You were given the Ludus Paradisus community building project.”

  “Only because you were busy with the performance stage for the entire games in the Hanging Gardens.” Gabriel focused on the branch as it began to heal itself.

  “Which was obviously the right call, since you’re ripping up fruit trees instead of overseeing your team.”

  Gabriel drove his boot through the pile of fruit Michael had stacked. He watched with satisfaction as an orange flew clear over the tree line. “Maybe you can use your great reputation to make that a new sport in the games—fruit kicking. You can even stack them for me, brother.”

  “You know, I’ve done my part,” Michael said, standing. “I can’t control what you do. But keep this to yourself, at least, and simply try to be prepared for whatever’s coming. I saw unimaginable things in my vision, and you are supposed to play a major role, whether you like it or not.”

  “What is it you saw that is such a big deal?”

  “I saw angels burning.” Michael turned his back to Gabriel and unfolded his massive wings. The light was almost dazzling as it shone off his pure-white feathers and polished armor. “I must go and pray with God for more guidance.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to say something before Michael left, but nothing would come. He felt the rush
of wind on his face from flapping wings, and soon he was alone again. The ground around him was littered with his favorite fruit, but he had lost his appetite.

  Gabriel grabbed a grapefruit and a lemon and placed them gently on Michael’s pile. He turned toward the gated entrance of the inner city and walked out. He jogged toward a cliff edge and immediately cast his wings open, diving head first from the Great Mountain toward the construction site of the new community building. He soared over the Field of Tranquility with its color-changing wheat, a pale yellow now, and landed next to the impressive structure of the new building.

  “Wow, incredible work,” he said to the team of angels he had been leading.

  From around the corner, a soft, familiar voice answered Gabriel. “Thank you. They have been working hard.”

  Gabriel stumbled. “Arrayah?”

  She stepped into view, her brow furrowed. “Yes. I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

  Raphael turned the corner from the other side of the building, and Gabriel caught his eyes. “Ah, Gabriel. We are fine now. You can head back to your fun.”

  “Oh, you are Gabriel?” Arrayah said.

  “Yes.” He turned in Raphael’s direction. “I am sorry I left my duties. I am here to help finish this now.”

  Raphael hurried over to stand between the two of them. “I apologize, Arrayah, he seems to have made his way back. Honestly, Gabriel, we have become much more efficient since you left.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Arrayah stepped in to show us a few things, and we are now half a day ahead of schedule.”

  Gabriel looked over at Arrayah in astonishment. Her soft skin and silky smooth hands were not those of a worker.

  A nearby angel turned around and held up a sheet of marble. “She taught us a new hammering method. It’s actually easier, yet more powerful.”

  Gabriel scowled at the young angel, who quickly turned back to his work. “That’s wonderful.”

  “I didn’t mean to impose, Gabriel. I just saw they could use some help when I came back, and Raphael agreed.”

  “It was no imposition at all. You actually saved the day, Arrayah.” Raphael threw his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. “Gabriel isn’t interested in construction, anyway—he’s more of a combat angel. Great in the games.”

  Raphael’s mouth drew close to Gabriel’s ear. “Gabriel, we asked Arrayah to take your place in the unveiling tomorrow since you weren’t here. I hope you don’t mind. Uriel and I think having a virtue such as Arrayah involved in the grunt work will inspire the angels and add excitement around the project. What do you think?”

  He thought of Michael’s vision. He was getting demoted in construction, but he was supposed to save over half the angels? “I think that’s fine. I’m sure many angels will be inspired.” Gabriel pulled up to hide his embarrassment. “You will do great, Arrayah.” Her intoxicating scent made it even harder to breathe. “I actually must be going now.”

  “Wait, Gabriel,” she said, but he pretended not to hear her and flew away.

  Gabriel headed directly to the orange groves. When he arrived, he sank down with his back against his favorite tree. He knew the perfect angle that positioned the bark directly between his wings, but today when he rubbed up against it for a familiar scratch, he found he could not relax. His face hardened as his frustration grew.

  Why did nothing turn out right? What was he here for? Everyone else seemed to know their purpose. He peeled and bit into a succulent orange although he hardly tasted the sweetness he usually tasted. He went over again in his head everything Michael had told him and chuckled bitterly to himself.

  How could an archangel play a more important role than the members of the seraphim or cherubim or any of the hierarchs for that matter? He started to imagine what it would be like to be as important as a cherub. With this thought, his shoulders relaxed. He imagined how it would feel to be the highest cherub of all, like the one he admired so much, the Son of the Morning. Everyone looked up to God’s highest angel. He felt juicy pulp trickling down his forearm. He began to wipe it off, but he was interrupted by an ear-piercing voice.

  “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord!”

  Gabriel jumped up, dropping his orange, and spun around as he looked for the origin of that booming yet feminine voice. It cried out again, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord!” He flew up, looking in all directions and across the top of the trees, but he saw nothing. The voice was actually quite beautiful, and when it repeated itself again, it seemed to be a song. When his sheer surprise wore off, Gabriel realized why he didn’t see anyone. It wasn’t because she was too far away. It was because the voice was coming from inside his head. He realized that the voice wasn’t singing because there was no rhythm or beat. It was weeping. The beauty of her voice made him misinterpret her words as a song.

  As he kept flying across the tree tops, his ears vibrating with her words, he shouted, “I know the Lord is holy! Please get out of my head. Where are you?”

  “All of Heaven is full of His glory!”

  “Who are you?” He flew back down to the ground and began to search through the orange grove, moving branches and looking around trees.

  The powerful voice repeated, “All of Heaven is full of His glory!”

  “I get it. God is great. Come talk to me like normal angels do.”

  “Many will soon forget what I’ve just said to you now,” cried the voice.

  “Well, I won’t forget since I’ll probably never be able to hear again.”

  “You must hear God inside you. Let only Him and Michael guide your way.”

  Gabriel stopped walking. “Who are you and how do you know Michael?”

  “I am of the seraphim.” With that, the vibrations went away and Gabriel’s ears were at rest.

  “Wait! What is your name?” He waited for a response, but nothing came. “Are you there?” He cupped his large hands around his ears and temples and closed his eyes. But there was no answer. Gabriel slumped down into his previous spot against his favored tree. It now provided even less comfort than before. He reached for another orange on the ground without thought and bit into it, but he quickly realized it wasn’t peeled and spit out the coarse rind.

  Although Gabriel knew the angel he heard had claimed to be a seraph, it was not easy to believe one had spoken to him. He had always thought they did nothing but sing praises to God. Unlike most angels, they had six wings, one pair of which they used to fly, another to cover their feet, and the last to cover their eyes. They covered their feet out of respect for God, but they covered their eyes only when they spoke to other angels. This was rare because they were the guardians of the throne and were almost always next to God.

  In fact, they were so close to Him all the time that His glory shone through their faces like a light. They covered their faces for the benefit of others because it would be too much for other angels to bear all at once. For any angel to adapt to the glory of God’s light without their eyes covered took thousands of years next to Him while slowly covering less and less of their eyes. Some angels didn’t know why seraphim placed their wings over their eyes, so although it was an angel courtesy, it also led to their mystique among the lower classes.

  A seraph had never spoken to Gabriel before and certainly not inside his head. He had never even seen one up close. But now that one had spoken directly to him, Michael’s story didn’t seem so ludicrous anymore. On top of this, Gabriel knew what the word “seraphim” meant.

  Lucifer stared down from the top of the Rolling Hills of Peace just west of the Great Mountain at the sixty-six angels constructing his throne. They were carving ornate designs out of gold, chipping away pieces of the legs and armrests, shaping cushions from a gelatinous material, and sewing intricate details into various pieces of the throne’s cloth. The cushion of the seat was made with red velvet and had white trim. It looked old and predictably like something God would have, not something he would have chosen. Yet he felt it was nothing compared to G
od’s. Not even on the same level. The angels were wasting their time.

  Saraquel caught his eyes and immediately labored up the hill in his direction. Lucifer noticed that Saraquel’s stringy, dark hair was long now. It flopped from side to side as he walked, and Lucifer remembered what that felt like; his own hair had been long until recently. Saraquel’s forehead wrinkled as he opened his eyes wide for a welcome greeting. He must want something. Lucifer glanced over the creature so different from him. He looked frail and uneven because his arms were unusually long for his body, yet his hands and feet were small. His skin wasn’t pristine like most angels. It was dry and scaly.

  He approached Lucifer, head lowered, and slowly raised it after Lucifer acknowledged him. “Your throne is turning out to be quite magnificent, great Lucifer.”

  “I am looking forward to commenting on the finished product, Saraquel.”

  “We will work on it until we have pleased you.”

  “Will this be worthy of sitting next to God’s throne on the highest tier of Heaven?”

  Saraquel’s expression made it apparent the answer was no. “We will do everything we can.”

  Lucifer stared into the distance. “Your hair. It has changed.”

  “I grew it long to match yours from the ceremony.” All angels could will their hair to grow, but most kept it short for convenience.

  Lucifer felt it looked nothing like his. He read the words engraved on Saraquel’s chest: Ab uno disce omnes. From one, learn all. What could he possibly learn from this sad angel? “The long hair suits you well.”

  “Oh thank you, Lucifer!”

  “I will be back soon. I expect you will have the throne ready upon my return.”

  “Yes, sir. Will you have time to speak to me about some of my questions when you come back?” Saraquel’s eyes were hopeful.

  “I will do my best to make time.”

  Saraquel smiled ear to ear. “Before you go, please tell me your thoughts of the news.”