The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  The Nidhogg and Mite ignored her. The Mite ordered the artillery guns moved back while the Nidhogg continued to peer over the edge.

  “Ahh, even in the end, he had the best intentions.”

  “He just ruined any chance we have. ”

  Uzkiev looked up at that. “He gave his own life because he considers our current situation your fault, yesss. He thought he was fixing it. Making peace.”

  “Peace? He had a poor way of showing it.”

  “The angels rush,” a mid-commander said.

  Ungeo watched in silence as the battle ensued. Her hand burned with phantom pains. The angels fought like never before. Their numbers were staggering. She didn't know why they hadn't done this earlier if they had so many. Perhaps they just needed the opportunity. An opportunity presented to them by the Molochite revolution.

  Ko was right. Her fault. But no, she thought as she looked upon the Nidhogg and Mite watching the defeat unfold with grim faces.

  “Tell me something,” Ungeo said to the pair when the new angels came, finally causing their lines to buckle like bones. “Was this worth it? To rid your worlds of the humans?”

  The Mite looked at her. He opened his mouth, as if to object, but then he smiled sadly. “No,” he said. “We sought distraction and openings in the council, and destruction of the Sphere, but never this. When I took over leadership of Broken Fist I promised the elimination of the human cancer from our worlds and our lives, but this price is too high.”

  “Your Ko,” Ungeo said to them. “He was so close to you both. He could have killed you at any time, and he never knew. He could have killed you both and prevented this. He would have had his peace then.”

  Uzkiev nodded. “Poor Ko.”

  The Mite snapped his fingers, ordering the guards to undo her wing bindings.

  “Go,” he said. “Leave this world. Go to your people, and make peace.”

  “But....” she said.

  “Go,” the Mite shouted.

  Ungeo fled the terrible battle, taking the personal air transport Ko had left moored to the side of the command platform.

  She really had no intentions upon returning to her world. Without an ether gully, the trip by wing would take a long, long time. As a Charun, she could navigate the ether and survive, but she wasn't fully sure of the way, and she still had much to do here. Much to contribute.

  But then the light came.

  It wasn't like a flash of a periscepter. More like being placed in a pot of water just as the fire was lit. All around the air and the light changed. Instantly the clouds began to disperse. The sky shivered. From high above came the shining of a light. A burning light that would soon become unbearable.

  “We have lost,” she said to the sky. She didn't know how, but the light of heaven had returned, and it was reclaiming what it had lost.

  By the time she reached the ether, her skin was burned. Any possible transports were already gone. All around, demons—Molochite and others alike—dove headlong into the murk. A great exodus. All of them would die. All except for her. She jumped into the thirsty black, swimming past the demons as they drowned.

  As Ungeo fell into the darkness, she thought of Ravi and the Dahhak queens. No matter where they were, they wouldn't be safe. And Ravi. So eager to grow up and be a full-grown Dahhak. Burned away. She would never know, she realized. Such things were the terrible price of their path. The mothers and the children nothing but fodder for the still-starving beast.

  Much later, as she finally approached the great, rocky plateaus of her own world, a place she never thought she would again see, she came across a male Charun aimlessly wandering the immense nothing. She spread her wings out before him, allowing the brilliant colors hidden within to shine.

  He turned his back, and Ungeo G'sslom knew he was afraid. That excited her in a way like she had never known, and she rushed him, raking her talons down his back, freeing his blood. She hunched forward, licking it up.

  His wings bristled, and she knew she had him. The mating frenzy overtook him quickly, and it was he who grabbed her good hand and led her home. Finally home.

  * * * *

  The demons who attempted to stay and brave the light burned. They screamed together, a single voice rising high above the city like music. Dave finally let go of the periscepters, and they stayed right there, floating.

  As the voice of the last demon faded, the angels began to sing. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. But sad. A requiem for their brothers and sisters, so many gone.

  “All are coming to the Tower,” an angel said to him. A Cherub. Zydkiel, still in the form of the massive three-headed lion with a scar upon its center face. “It would honor me greatly if it was I who could bear you.”

  The song rose high. “No,” Dave said. “I would like you to take me north. To just beyond the edge of the city, right where the forest begins.”

  * * * *

  Angels scattered as the second pillar fell, shattering against the ground into thousands of smaller pieces and dust. Tamael closed her eyes and prayed. The Sphere became heavier in her hand, but it didn't skew. Though she sensed if she moved, it would go reeling.

  To her horror, the fall of the second column weakened both the third and fourth great edifices, and just moments later they both fell as well, crashing around her like the very sky was falling.

  Tamael stood frozen. She couldn't stop thinking of Yehppael, literally in her hands. If she moved now, if this giant orb, hundreds of times bigger than her, somehow slipped and shattered, he would die. And the darkness would still sweep out over everything, forever killing the angels who had fought so hard and so long for the victory they now savored.

  Indigo was here, as was Gramm who came rushing in not long afterwards. They embraced, but Gramm soon fell to his knees, weeping as Indigo consoled him. They reestablished radio contact with all corners of the city, and she heard Hitomi was also alive and was being brought in. Polsh lived, too.

  “What do I do?” Tamael cried now.

  “I thank you,” said a voice, suddenly beside her, up against her, hand also holding up the Sphere. “I have been holding this Sphere for a terribly long time, and I welcome the respite.” The words were strange and forced. They were spoken slowly like the speaker had a great difficulty getting it out.

  “Yes, you may let go now. And Indigo is about to explain who I am.”

  “Who are you?”

  “It's okay,” Indigo said. “Let go.”

  Gently, Tamael lowered her hand, turning to look at the strange creature standing before her, holding up the massive orb. His ratted gray hair crawled about a pair of horns that dominated his aged, emaciated face. “Who are you?” she repeated.

  “It's the Unraveler,” Indigo said.

  “I will let go not,” he said. “Patience.”

  “But ... who ... what are you? Are you an angel?”

  The Unraveler looked at Gramm. A teardrop jumped from the floor, crawled up the creature's leathered face, and went into its eye. To Gramm, he said, “The pain you feel right now will never go away. The great expanse of time that stretches before you now will dull some of it, but it will never heal. You must learn to use it as a tool. Like a torch to light your way. Never forget your friend. Honor his memory in the long road ahead.”

  He said that more easily, as if he had practiced it for a long time.

  The Unraveler nodded. “I know.”

  “I know who you are,” Gramm said.

  “Soon only you, Gramm, will remain. Even after this Orb I hold shatters, destroying all the human worlds, you will live. And even when this place is gone, still you will survive. When the last acorn falls from the Tree of Eternity, when it withers and dies, you alone will exist. For you are the Navigator, and you will ensure the forward passage of time. When the great collapse comes, you will shoot back, unraveling time's threads as you go. You will be in this room when the Sphere unshatters, and you will hold it until this angel here comes and takes it
from you. From there you will help the success of the prophecy, and finally then, and only then, will you rest.”

  “I can't do it.”

  “I think you just did,” Indigo said, bringing him into a hug.

  Tamael looked back and forth between Gramm and the Unraveler, and she saw it. They were the same. She didn't know why, or how, but it made sense ... in an odd way. Angels often openly wondered about the end of time. Gramm, it appeared, would experience it. When time ended, he wouldn't die. He would slingshot backwards through time, coexisting with his forward-moving self until he was given the opportunity to help himself and his friends complete their quest.

  It was a gift. And a curse. One only He could bestow.

  “For now you will remain unsure,” the Unraveler said to Gramm. “Perhaps it was Him. A dog on a lake, a random bullet. Perhaps coincidence. But I don't think so. I will know soon.”

  Gramm didn't ask the question he was about to, leaving Tamael to wonder what it was.

  “Now you will all leave me here. I just savored the last moments of a very peaceful thirty-six earth years, and I don't want it undone.”

  They left, leaving the Unraveler alone with the Sphere.

  “How long is that? Thirty-six earth years?” Tamael asked Indigo as she carried the human out of the Athenaeum and into the bright, beautiful light of Cibola. She brought her to the ground.

  Indigo answered, but it was drowned out in the song of the angels.

  Later, Hitomi arrived. She and Indigo embraced, crying in each other's arms.

  “Goodbye, Tamael,” Indigo said suddenly, placing a warm hand on the angel's face. She had to shout the words.

  “Where are you going?” Tamael asked.

  “We'll meet again, but not today.”

  The light of Cibola suddenly became brighter, and a strange joy burned in Tamael's chest. Her hands and fingers felt light, and even though she didn't flap her wings, she began to rise into the air. Giddy and scared all at once, she tried to move back down, but she couldn't. All around her, the same happened to the other angels. All of them lost form, turning to great wisps of light, rising into the shimmering sky. Ecstasy wrapped her body, encompassed it. She knew love. She became it.

  “You will be reunited,” Indigo called to her as she rose. “And you will never be apart.”

  Tamael heard the words, and she knew them to be true. She raised her arms, welcoming the love, welcoming the joy, praying it would never again go away.

  * * * *

  Gramm stroked the neck of the grand dulcimer. A beautiful angel with raven hair like his mother had given it to him as thanks before she rose off into the sky. She said it had been her only companion as she hid from the demons. Alone for so long it had given her great comfort, and it made the most beautiful music. He thanked her, wondering how long it was until the end of time.

  * * * *

  She was waiting for him at the edge of the forest.

  “The demons are gone,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “And it was because of you that they left.”

  “No, not just me. I helped I think, but I didn't do it all.”

  “We were gods once, you and me.”

  “No, not me. You and Zev. We are not the same.”

  Vila was silent a long while. “You will stay with me until my pups are born. Then you will return with them to the city. When He returns to take you home, you will bring them with you. They will know you as their father.”

  Dave stroked her long, black fur. Even the creatures of the shadows, he realized, sometimes dream.

  Vila raised her head and howled, long and hard into the ever-brightening sky.

  * * * *

  Indigo looked different from the last time Hitomi had seen her. She looked as strong as ever, but the fear was gone. Peace, Hitomi realized. Whatever the angels were feeling now, Indigo was feeling it, too.

  There was something else. It was Indigo's eyes. They blazed with a frightening power. Hitomi didn't know much of what had happened between the time they had separated and met here, but Indigo had changed immensely. In a way Hitomi knew she could never comprehend. Whatever had been hidden deep within Indigo had found its way to the surface. A tangible aura.

  The angels were gone, now stars in the bright, red sky, and people began to emerge and wander the streets. Most looked shell-shocked and afraid. And lost. So lost.

  “What now?” Hitomi asked.

  “The light of this world will melt the ice. Below, the demon worlds will perish. For us it'll be the equivalent of thirty-six years, but it'll be longer for them. Generations. I'm not sure why; perhaps to give them time. Then the Sphere will crack, and all the worlds will die. Then we, too, will be brought to our new home. We and the demons alike.”

  “So many have died for this,” Hitomi said.

  Indigo looked at her sadly. Her very presence was electric. “I have to leave you now, too.”

  “But ... Where are you going?”

  Indigo leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “They will look to you three to be their leaders. But for now, Gramm needs time to deal with what's before him and the hurt he carries, and Dave won't return for almost a year. Until then, it will be up to you.”

  “You're leaving now?”

  “Yes.”

  Hitomi didn't know what to say. So much had happened. It was like a part of her was being ripped away. Rico's death had been particularly hard, but this was almost worse. Still, as she looked over the people, she felt a great hope for the future, something she'd never had before. A filling of the empty space inside of her. It felt good. By God, it felt good.

  Epilogue

  Young Qulp looked up into the sky, and there was a great light. Not the thin whips that used to indiscriminately kill, but a glowing of the world above.

  “Qulp! Qulp!” his mother cried, rushing out from the cave. She giggled desperately. “Come inside! Come inside right now!”

  “Do you see that, mother? The sky is broken.”

  “Come inside,” she cried, her voice more frantic. “It can't hurt you if you're inside.”

  “It already has,” he said. He thought of his father. His brave father.

  “No, not yet,” she said. “Hurry. Please.”

  She looked up at the sky then, and she wrung her hands. A tear ran down her face. Qulp had never seen his mother cry.

  “Don't cry, mother,” he said, taking her hand. “I'll go inside. I'll be good.”

  So into the cave they went, but before they sealed the rock door shut, completely blocking out the light, Qulp looked into the sky one last time, unable to escape the feeling that it was calling to him.

  * * * *

  Ivan pushed past the strange lady in the lobby and found the nurse. “Please,” he said. “My friend is in labor. She is bleeding in my car.”

  The nurses rushed out with him. Marija was in the back, screaming. Blood pooled around her legs and feet. A large nurse bodily pulled her out of the car and onto the chair. They rushed her inside. He quickly followed.

  “Marija! Marija!” he called, following her down the sterile hallway. They rushed her into a small room, putting her up on the table.

  “You. Out,” the doctor said.

  “Please. I must know how she is.”

  “Are you the father?” a nurse asked.

  “No,” Marija called, crying the words. “There is no father.”

  “You will wait in the lobby.”

  Frustrated, he went out. He lit a cigarette and the fat nurse behind the desk snapped at him to put it out. That same strange lady was also there, staring at him. She looked like an American. Familiar, too, like he'd seen her once on television. But that couldn't be. No one famous ever came to Samobor, and even if they did, they wouldn't waste time in hospital waiting rooms.

  “You are Ivan,” the woman said, speaking broken Croatian. “My name is Jessica, and I've been waiting for you.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “Who are you? Why do yo
u know my name?”

  “You are to raise Marija's daughter like your own. You are to keep her safe, because there will be many who want to harm her.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, yank? I'm just her friend. Marija is going to take care of her.”

  The lady was starting to freak him out. How did she know so much? He'd known Marija since she was a little girl. She was like his sister. Two years ago when she was fourteen her parents had died and his mother had taken her in. Now that mama was gone, all they had was each other. She refused to tell him who the father was, insisting she was still a virgin. He would kill the guy once he found out who it was. He had been toying with the idea of asking her to marry him. His girlfriend Gojslava wouldn't like it much, but he was sick of her anyway.

  “Marija won't be able to take care of her.”

  “What the hell, lady? What are you talking about?”

  Ivan realized he did know who this woman was. He'd seen her on television in the weeks after that horrible day a year before. The day when all those people died. She was from the video of the angel in that hospital. It was played over and over again on the news. Jessica was the mother of that boy from Alaska. The one who had killed himself. She had become a prophet, they said. She had a church with thousands of followers.

  That's when the angel appeared. It had to be some sort of trick. It was an overwhelming glowing form with wings like the wind. His head spun. A trick. It had to be. The desk nurse shrieked and ran away. A strange feeling entered his chest, like all the pain he didn't even know he had was suddenly gone.

  The angel spoke, the words like fire. “The end is in thirty-five years, and the girl being born right now is to lead this world to their salvation. There will be many false gods and prophets, and in about twenty-eight years, when the demon worlds evaporate, some will find their way here. All will seek to hurt her.”

  “I will help you,” Jessica said. “And Yehppael here is going to leave me now and stay with you. He will help, too.”

  Ivan fell to his knees. What was this? He didn't understand. “What about Marija? Where will she be?”

  The doctor came out then, shaking his head. Ivan saw the sadness, and he knew. All his life, everyone he'd ever known and loved had died. Why him? Why? In the doctor's hands he held a small bundle, and he handed it to Ivan.