The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  Quickly they set about the room, searching for cameras or traps, but there were none. The books were quickly turned into building blocks for temporary bunkers and defensive positions. Only one exit drained the giant room, a staircase that curved upwards to a dark, black door. The room could be held a long time, if it came to that.

  Frish and Iopol cautiously set out. The most tense moment was when they opened the wooden door. It groaned ominously, like it was calling for help. Tamael half expected to find a whole legion standing beyond. But it appeared this level, the lowest of the human-dedicated tiers of the Tower, was empty. Even the demons had little interest in the reading material of the humans. They shut and bolted the door after Iopol and Frish went through.

  “To have fear, here in the lowest level of the Athenaeum,” Ashia whispered, her voice wet with pain, “is a terrible thing. It was constructed to be a place of wonder, of joy. A place to gather knowledge.”

  Tamael watched the two humans sift through the piles of books. They were books for children, she saw. But they had images of the worlds from where the human writers originated. Yehppael walked past them, glancing down at the images, but just for a moment. The gravity of their situation was etched onto his face.

  “What are we going to do? We are trapped, and we will be discovered before long. I'd rather die than flee underground again,” Yehppael said.

  “Need I remind you that coming here was your suggestion?”

  “No. But now I am beginning to regret the idea.”

  “If we can find nothing here, we really need to find a way to contact the other angels. If not for an escape, to receive orders. We may be in a position to benefit the others militarily in a way we can not see.”

  Iopol and Frish returned a short time later. “This whole section is sealed off,” Frish said. “Fifteen levels up, there's a single stairway that leads to the bottom surface level, and it is closed and locked. Plus, the exit into the sett has been welded shut.”

  “They think they've completely isolated this section,” Yehppael said. “It means we have run of the place.”

  “There was fighting here,” Iopol said. “Three levels up, the floor is destroyed. It's filled with human remains and charred books. Most everything burned.”

  “Show us,” Tamael said. She selected two angels as sentries for the bottom entrance and the rest followed up the twisting stairs.

  The first floor of the Athenaeum was a wondrous sight. Not as glorious as the angel levels above, but it was amazing in its own way. While the books and shelves of the angel levels were haphazardly placed in disorganized labyrinths, the humans had taken time to rearrange their own shelves in very neat rows, one after another. Seeing this, it almost made her think the angel levels were designed for the purpose of keeping those who wanted a specific book away from it.

  The humans wandered off, exploring the aisles. The others patrolled the shadows, seeking any hidden traps and cameras.

  Tamael left the humans with Ashia and her attendants while they traversed up the cumbersome stairs. As reported, the third floor was a burnt-out husk. Skeletons piled about the ash. She paused to utter a prayer for them.

  Several more levels above, a single, thin staircase rose to a welded-shut door. Beside it, a small sign warned not to use this way as an exit from the sett. And if the humans wished to use the angel levels of the library, they must first obtain permission from their Principality representative.

  “I've been meaning to catch up on my reading,” Yehppael muttered.

  Back down, they found a very excited Dave and the others crowded around a thick book with red binding. Books bound yellow were for the humans, black were for the angels, and blue for the Cherubim. She had never seen a red-bound book before, but it was the color of the Seraphim. Even Ashia had gotten up from her stretcher to look.

  Dave read aloud. Something about bitter reunions and setting those bound free. Upon hearing this, Yehppael jumped forward, snatching up the book.

  “What is this? Where did you find it?” he demanded.

  “Hey!” Dave said, reaching for it. “Give it back. It's ours.”

  Yehppael turned away from the human. He ripped off his helmet, his black hair spilling out around his shoulders. Quivering, he quickly scanned the words. “The whole thing is here. The whole prophecy, with notes about what they might mean.”

  “Where did you find this?” Tamael demanded of the humans. She had an uneasy feeling. Such books were forbidden to the angels, much less the humans.

  “There's a card catalogue,” Dave said, pointing to massive row of shelves with tiny drawers. “I went to see if they had anything from my world, and it told us what row and shelf number to look under. The only books were Treasure Island, The Catcher in the Rye, and this one.”

  Indigo sat facing away from the others. She was hunched over, deep in thought.

  “It was purposely placed here,” Ashia whispered. “For them to find. There was a note.”

  Dave handed it to Tamael. “It was stuck in the page I was reading when you came back.” Hand-scrawled on a single piece of parchment was the short note. Tamael read with Yehppael looking over her shoulder:

  Not all of you will be here to find this book, but I'll address it to all in case I am wrong. Faced with the impossible, one must be served with guidance in order to continue. I plan upon intervening three times. This is the second for both of us. This book will help you.

  It was not signed. “What is this? Do you know who this is from?”

  “Yes,” Dave said. “It's from that creepy guy we met in the woods. The Unraveler.”

  Confusion mounted as Tamael read it a third time. When the humans had originally told their story, no one took much stock in their account of this strange creature. In the areas neighboring the city, many creatures resided who were neither angel nor demon. Some were intelligent. They were of no consequence. They never approached the city or dealt in angel affairs.

  Now, however, it seemed this thing had been inside the Athenaeum. And it anticipated their arrival by placing a book inside of a sealed chamber where it knew they would find it. She was forced to rethink her earlier assumption. After all, she reflected now, it was this creature who told them to seek out the Spire of Jhunayn.

  “He can move backwards and forward in time,” Tamael said to Yehppael. “He can anticipate our actions, and even if he's not benign, he's clearly not an enemy. He must be a Seraph.”

  Yehppael looked up from the book he was still devouring. “I don't know,” he said. “How did this book get placed in here? Even the Seraphim can't enter sealed chambers.”

  “Then an Ophan. They are the wheels of His chariot. They must have some ability, including the manipulation of time.”

  “You mean that thing was an angel?” Dave asked. “I didn't know they could look like that.”

  “No one has seen the Ophanim before,” Ashia said. “Their appearance is unknown. Your mysterious benefactor could easily be one.”

  “Wait a second,” Dave said suddenly. “Does that mean this shit is about us? About one of us killing the other?”

  “Yes,” Yehppael said. His voice was distracted, almost distraught. “This is the full text of the prophecy. I've only seen part of it before. It is truly amazing. This is a book from above the Athenaeum, the private library of the Seraphim. It comes from beyond the reach of any of us.”

  He sat down. “Holy crap. Is all that stuff gonna come true?”

  Yehppael shrugged. “I don't know. None of it has come to pass yet. And there were five of you, not four. So already the prophecy is flawed.”

  “What does the bottom part say?” Dave asked. “It's in a different language, and I can't read it.”

  “Let me see it,” Tamael asked. He handed it over. The first few paragraphs were archaic nonsense about the scribe and how the notes below were his doing, but not his thinking. It seemed this was more of a transcribed diary than an actual book:

  On the brink of ruin, four of His
otherworld creations shall come to reunite the thirteen towers.

  The fruition of their efforts is not set in time nor stone nor flesh. And they shall be burdened with 1000 failures before the light will truly shine on not just His creations, but all of creation itself, forever quelling the darkness in us all.

  For one, the end will be the beginning.

  For another, two bitter reunions shall set those bound free.

  The third will die by the hand of the fourth.

  Healing all wounds but one.

  Upon success, even the shadows will be lost to their heirs. As this world was once alone, it will find peace again. As once there was no otherworld, it will again come to pass. The thirteen towers will breathe as one, unleashing all of their power. Those who have come to destroy it will in turn be destroyed. But they must not have fear. For He will not deny even them. No one will be lost in the sky.

  Below this, a few notes were added. While the first part was handwritten with the practiced calligraphy of a scribe, these notes were hastily added in the flowing old speak. It had been awhile, but Tamael understood the ancient angel language well enough:

  The last of this must not be made known to those of the lower castes. I can not help but think this isn't a prophecy, but a deep warning of an impending apocalypse. One that He desires. As Seraphim, it is our duty to make sure this comes to pass.

  If the thirteen periscepters are put together and used, it suggests the True Light will overwhelm this and the demon planes. Only then will He return to take us away.

  But it also implies the slow and eventual destruction of the Sphere and all the worlds within. In turn, this will cause the Absolute Darkness to sweep across our world like a tide. If that is the case, this information must be kept from the demons at all costs. The Sphere is our protection, our barrier against the darkness. If the prophecy is properly fulfilled, we will be gone by the time our world is destroyed. But if the Sphere is shattered prematurely, we will forever be lost.

  While this delicate balance is necessary, I must admit I am terribly uneasy with it. Still, the periscepters must be kept apart.

  At the very bottom, written in a different ink and a shakier hand, but still in the old language:

  Cibola has been attacked. We will hold out as much as we can, but I fear it is time to bring the thirteen together. The prophecy has not been fulfilled, nor have the four appeared. I have dispatched Illian, Cabael, and Truet to seek and find the twelve periscepters and bring them here. I will put all of them together and activate them myself. I pray we will be able to hold the Tower until they return. If they do not, I have a terrible plan.

  A small space.

  They have not returned, and much time has passed. The robes of those who sought out His chamber have fallen, and I presume them to be dead. The six of us who remain have no choice but to plant ourselves into the plinth.

  All the pages beyond were blank. It shook her very foundation. She handed the diary back to Yehppael. She had to sit down somewhere and think about this. If the demons thought to demolish the Sphere—something many angels had petitioned to do a number of times—their world would be enveloped in the Absolute Darkness, and all living angels would instantly die.

  The demons would never do that. The existence of the Sphere allows them their crop of human slaves. If anything, they would protect it jealously.

  But not if they knew the truth.

  It was confusing regarding the periscepters. Sometimes it mentioned twelve, sometimes thirteen. One thing was certain. They had to get them all and put them together. He will return only then, it said. But they were scattered now, and the thirteenth still hadn't been found.

  “There's more in here,” Yehppael said. He flipped back, reading passages. “Amazing. This one book holds the answers to so many questions. Listen to this:

  "They protest the Sphere. We've debated telling them the truth, but we have decided against it. The knowledge is too dangerous compared to the remote possibility it would be destroyed by an angel insurgency. Still, safeguards must be placed to protect it."

  “So what does that mean?” Tamael asked.

  Yehppael flipped back a few pages. “It seems the creation of the Sphere was for something different than we've been told. Here, listen.” He read again.

  "With the defection of so many, the balance has been thrown horribly askew. To combat this, He has created an alternate universe, one that will develop and grow on its own. It will absorb and hold the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us, and the pulses that menace the demon worlds will be controlled to a point. It is not a perfect solution, but it will work until a new existence, a new home can be created."

  He turned a page. “It seems some time passes, and then there is this:

  "A very peculiar thing has happened. Life is sprouting and growing within the Sphere. Soon, life of intelligence will be grown on many of the round worlds. Surely it must be an accident some say, but I am not so sure. His will is mysterious indeed. Much must be done, much must be built in order to deal with this. The energy of the life is drawn from the overflows of darkness and light, but when this life expires, it leeches back into the ether. Some of this life must come to us in order to control the balance. It will be a great burden.

  "New castes of angels will be created. This world must be made suitable for our guests. Though none will notice, the light of our world is now diluted. It will also help with the balance. It means a new era for us all. Twelve more towers must be built, and within, the overflow of light will be contained, and stored in the event it is needed. They are crucial, but terrible. I do not wish them to be built. This change opens a great vulnerability to our world, and I fear it will be exploited. But there is no other choice, and I am under His will. The bone of my finger will be used to make these towers."

  Yehppael shook his head, lowering the book. “All this time, we fought and railed against the humans. We blamed them for the terror when in reality they were created to protect us.”

  “That's not what I hear at all, Sir,” Iopol said. “Our world was impenetrable before, but it was changed without our knowledge, making it possible for the demons to attack.”

  “He couldn't just create the humans, use them to protect us, and then allow them to be thrown away. What other choice could He have had?”

  “I don't get it,” Dave said. All the others were subdued, deep in contemplation. Indigo was completely motionless, still hunched over in thought. “Who are these defectors? Who abandoned you guys? I thought you only fought over us humans?”

  “Oh, no,” Yehppael said. “There was a war long before that. A war between angels who didn't want to live under His rule. They were cast into the ether. According to this diary, when they left, the balance of Cibola was thrown off. And your worlds were created to fix that. To soak in the darkness.”

  “So we became a giant sponge? And we humans are what happens when it's squeezed out? Nice.”

  “Yes, in a way. But the author of this seems to believe you were no mistake.”

  “Still,” Dave said. “I don't think many would be happy knowing this. People dedicate their whole lives to this meaning of life stuff. If they knew the truth, they'd slit their wrists.”

  “We have five of the thirteen periscepters here,” Tamael said, changing the subject. “It seems to me our only option is to do everything we can to find the other eight and put them together.”

  “An all but impossible task,” Iopol said.

  “I agree,” Ashia said. “But it is His will.”

  “So what happens if they're all put together?” Dave asked.

  “Apparently,” Yehppael said, “the light will sweep forth across all of Cibola and into the ether and across the demon worlds, killing all the demons everywhere.”

  “But what about humans? What will happen to us?”

  Ashia tried to sit up straighter, coughing. “You can survive the True Light. However, if such a thing were to happen, the excess light would build and build
within our world, eventually cracking the Sphere. And all the light would burst out followed closely by a wave of the Darkness. And when that happens, all the angels within this city will choke and die.”

  “But,” Yehppael added, “it says He will return before that happens. It seems to be our only path. We just need to find the missing eight periscepters.”

  “We have six,” Indigo said, speaking for the first time since they returned. “Not five.” She looked up from where she had been hunched over. She had been crying. “I carry three, Dave has two, and we are within the final one.”

  The moment she said it, Tamael understood. Recognition sparkled in Yehppael's eyes as well. “Of course,” he said, his voice full of admiration and wonder. “All the confusion makes sense now.”

  The Tower was the thirteenth periscepter. The first, really. Just waiting to be found. It seemed so obvious now.

  Empowered with this revelation, Yehppael greedily read further accounts from the diary out loud. The beacons caused great tendrils of True Light to sweep through the ether, capturing the humans and bringing them forth once they died. These lights sometimes struck the demon worlds, but they were necessary for the balance.

  No wonder they attacked.

  “Has this balance been upset now?” Tamael asked. “The beacons have all been crushed or destroyed.”

  “Just turned off,” Ashia responded. “A cluster have been kept tuned, and ‘turned up,’ attracting all the humans to the same area. The Dominion leadership must have some inkling on the workings of this equilibrium. It would explain the Camps, why so many angels are kept alive.”

  So the balance is kept, but tenuously.

  “Ashia,” Yehppael asked. “If the periscepters have been captured by the demons, where would they be brought to be stored and or studied?”

  “I don't know. But those in charge of the resistance might.”