Angel Realms 01 The Dawn of Angels

by Vivienne Malynn; Sean Kade

  “Why?”

  “With every wrongful act there is a chance for a stronger sense of love, one that cannot be experienced otherwise. There is a chance for mercy—for forgiveness. That is what God saw in humanity. That is what we must all see.”

  “I can’t,” I say. “It’s all just darkness.”

  The words are overpowering now. Shin, Mem, Aleph…Shin, Mem, Aleph…the great undoing.

  Tears emerge in my mother’s eyes as she pleads with me, “You have to believe,” she says in desperation.

  “I can’t.” The darkness is shrouding my view of her and the words have become overwhelming.

  “Then you must take my hope,” my mother says. She puts her hands over her heart and then pulling them away, reveals a glowing ember of light. She places it in my hands and closes them. “Do what you will with it,” she whispers before fading into the shadows.

  I stand alone now in a blackened abyss of nothingness. The words continue around me. Shin, Mem, Aleph…Shin, Mem, Aleph… The only light is the faint glowing in my hands. I open them; the light is dim but still there. Looking into its luminescence, I am carried into another vision of the world. I see the daughter’s of Eve one after another telling stories of honor, bravery and love. Stories of light overcoming darkness, love vanquishing ignorance, of greater days to come. Stories of hope. The voices tell me that they are lies, that they are just stories, but I don’t care. They mean more than that. Next I see the greatness of man. I see men who willingly laid down their lives who spoke of visions of a better humanity.

  Somehow the words, though still strong, have slowed as if something were inhibiting them. Shin…Mem…Aleph…Shin… Mem…Aleph… The words beat on. I am weak now and each word makes me weaker, I don’t know how much longer I can continue. Shin…Mem…Aleph…

  The little girl, my foster sister, appears before me. She is being cradled in the arms of her father. He is sober now and somehow I can tell that somewhere deep down he did love her. It was his escape from pain that led him to drink and his anger at the world that drove him to the abuse, a cycle he learned from his father, a cycle that the little girl refused to continue. That was the power of her hope. Then I see another young girl, myself, watching her mother leave. There is hope there too, the hope that we would be together again.

  The voices from the shadows tell me it isn’t real. It is a false hope. Something I had told myself many times. This time, however, I don’t believe it. “We will be together,” I say.

  “But she’s dead,” the shadows answer back. “She is gone forever. You will never see her again.”

  “No,” I exclaim. As I do confidence surges through me. The shadows disperse and the beating of the words stops abruptly. “She’s not dead to me,” I say. There is silence in the abyss. Then the darkness breaks and a new light emerges.

  I think of Ashur. At first, I feel the pain of his betrayal, but then I can’t help but feel my love for him. I know there will be times that loving him will hurt me and some of that hurt will be from him, but true loss is not the pain. The true loss would be to let my fear prevent me from loving. The light grows brighter and brighter until it casts out the darkness and despair that once occupied my heart. Somehow I know it will be alright. Somehow I know Ashur will find me. And my hope returns. I am aware again and awake.

  I open my eyes and look at Hammond who is standing in front of me. He seems surprised that I am no longer in the trance. “How?” he murmurs as he stumbles back, unsure of what is going on. For the first time he is no longer in control.

  From one of the entryways of the chamber there is a movement. It is quick and nearly beyond the eye to see. Hammond anticipates it before I am able to recognize what it is. His reaction is just as fast, but too late. The gun is knocked away, sliding across the floor. Despite this, Hammond is able to strike Ashur knocking against the wall. Ashur slumps to the ground dazed, his adversary over him ready to strike, when a shot rings out.

  Hammond looks on with shock in his eyes. There is a large wound in his chest. He stands dumbfounded before collapsing to the floor. I turn to see Justin holding the gun. She does not move. She is frozen there, hands trembling. Walking over, I take the gun from her. Ashur helps Liv up and she runs to Justine who embraces her. The two are crying, but this time with relief.

  Ashur stares at me without a word. A wave of joy comes over me and I can think of nothing else then being with him. I run to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He is caught off guard and seems to hesitate, but only slightly before taking me in. “I was so afraid of losing you,” he says.

  “I knew you would come,” I say as I settle my head into his chest. He places his hand over my head and hugs me in close. Though my nerves are raw, I feel safe here. “How did you know?”

  He smiles down at me, looking in that way of admiration. “Jeff,” he answers. “He told me of the passage in the cellar.”

  “He’s alright, then,” Justine exclaims.

  “Yes,” says Ashur. “He’ll be just fine.”

  “But how did he know?” I ask, still confused.

  Justine bites her lip. “Jeff and I are part of the same group as the pastor. That is why we were chosen as your foster parents. Hammond told us that you were the vessel to bring God’s perfection to the earth and that it was a great honor. We believed him. The pastor believed him. We thought we were doing the right thing.” She falters a bit, as she looks at the body of the pastor. “We never imagined it would end up like his.” Grabbing my hand, she pleads, “I am so sorry. If I had known…if Jeff had known…we would have taken you away from here. We would never have let them hurt you or Liv. I never wanted this.”

  “I believe you,” I say. “I know that you and Jeff love me.”

  “From the day you entered our home. You have brought so much joy to us. I understand if you want to leave, but we would really like you to stay.”

  This is the first time that I have had foster parents that actually wanted me to stay. I understand that my mother is gone, but I still feel her in Justine’s love. “I can’t think of anywhere else I would want to be,” I say.

  Justine throws her arms around me and for the first time in a long time, I feel as though I have my mother back. That emptiness inside me is gone and I feel whole again. In my mind, I see that little girl hoping for that day that she could feel her mother’s love once more. She is smiling. She always knew.

  Our embrace lasts for only a moment before the reality of the situation sets in again. I look down at Hammond’s body. “Is he dead,” I ask.

  “No,” Ashur says. “He can’t be killed that easily. Our kind can only be killed by swords especially crafted by angels. He will eventually recover. But for now he is incapacitated.”

  I can see the skin around the wound beginning to knit back together. “He’s an angel too?”

  “A fallen angel,” Ashur replies. “The Grigorri. Those who were cast down upon the Earth for their sins against heaven. They have vowed eternal vengeance on heaven.” He scans the sky above; the moon looks more crimson then before. I can tell there is something he does not want to say.

  “Everything is going to be okay now,” I say. “I didn’t speak the words.”

  Liv looks at me with concern. “You were chanting the words the entire time you were in the trance.”

  “No,” I say. “I—didn’t.” Could it be that the whole thing was for naught, every word repeated was actually from my own mouth? But nothing happened. Then a movement catches my eye from above, a star moving among the others. It streaks across the moon, descending to the earth. “What is it?”

  “Wormwood,” Ashur answers. “Sorath has returned.

  Chapter 19

  The star is a brilliant yellow, etching across the reddened sky. It descends from the heavens and out of sight. There is a flash of light that illuminates the sky briefly and then the rumble of impact. From this angle, it is apparent that the comet has landed in the vicinity of the town.

  “There h
as to be something we can do,” I say. Ashur stares at me. I see that fear in his eyes again. “Tell me there is a way of stopping him.” He says nothing. “What about the angels? They stopped him once, can’t they do it again?”

  “The angelic legions will be assembling themselves as we speak,” Ashur says.

  “So there is nothing to worry about.”

  “By the time they are fully assembled,” Ashur continues, “Sorath will have called forth his legions. It will be all out war with Earth as the battle ground.”

  “We have to stop him then,” I reply. “Keep him busy until the angels arrive.”

  “I will stop him,” Ashur insists. “You will stay with Liv and Justine. Get them to safety.”

  Ashur begins to scan the surroundings, searching for something. Finding what he is looking for, he walks to a corner of the room. I follow behind. Standing on a mound of earth, Ashur begins pulling his shirt off. I am well aware of what he plans to do.

  “No,” I demand. “I won’t let you do this on your own. This is my fault and I have to make it right.”

  “There is nothing you can do,” Ashur says. “He’ll kill you. I can’t…” He hesitates.

  “You can’t keep me safe,” I say, angrily. “You can’t do your job as my guardian. I don’t need you protecting me.”

  “I can’t watch you die,” he says with distress in his voice.

  In the pace of silence standing between us, our eyes speak more than any words have before. They speak a language only distinguished in our souls. And our hearts listen. Placing his hand behind my head he pulls me in. Our lips press warmly together. For a moment all else is suspended. There is only us here together. One soul intertwined in the bonds of love. Every moment before culminates to this moment, giving meaning to each encounter and every nuance of our time together. It is as if our love has always been and always will be. From one end of eternity’s veil to the other. And here lies the nexus of our hearts in this one moment of realization.

  I stagger back. Though that moment is passed, it is not gone. It exists as a part of every moment that will eventually proceed. It does not need to be rekindled or maintained, only remembered. Ashur waits, anticipating a response. He has completely opened himself to me. Now it is my turn. I offer my heart on the altar of sacrifice and stand holding the dagger in my own hand. Do I plunge it in, risking the pain and death of something so tender to me? This is the moment that love is decided and only faith can save either of us. It takes a complete commitment, a relinquishing of all reservations and doubts—a stepping into the abyss.

  I stand at the edge, my fears choking the words from me. Only my heart can move me here. In that moment of decision, I choose to step off the edge of certainty, to relinquish my security for something more. The dagger falls…and I am saved by an angel. We embrace again, our lips merging into passionate expression of love’s deepest desire. The fears are gone.

  Ashur pulls away and takes me by the hand. “I’m afraid of losing you,” he says.

  “I know you’re afraid,” I say. “But you don’t have to be.”

  “I have to go,” he says as he bends down, placing his fingertips to the ground.

  “How are you going to face him? You don’t even have a weapon.”

  “I’ll find some way.”

  Then it occurs to me. I know where we can find a weapon. “That’s it,” I exclaim. “The sword.”

  Ashur stops to look up. “What sword?”

  “You said that your kind can only be killed by angelic swords,” I say.

  “Yes, but there are none of those around.”

  “What if I can get you one? Would you at least stand a chance then?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Ben’s novelty store,” I say. “I saw one there.”

  He shakes his head doubtfully. “Why would a novelty shop have an angelic sword? It’s just a fake.”

  “Trust me, it’s not a fake,” I say. Ashur still seems uncertain, and although I am unsure as well, I have to believe. “You’ve often asked me to trust you. Well now I’m asking you to trust me.”

  There is some hesitation, but eventually he concedes. “Alright, but this is how it is going to work. I will fly you into town. You will get the sword while I distract Sorath. However, once I have the sword, you will find safety. I don’t want you getting yourself killed.”

  “Fine,” I say. Ashur bows his head and touches the ground once more. The earth begins to flow along his arms forming into wings on his back. Liv and Justine look intently on, astonished at what they see.

  “Don’t worry,” I say to them. “You get used to it.” I then begin to show Justine the way that leads out toward the graveyard. “Take Liv and get away from the town.”

  As I turn to leave, Liv grabs my arm. “Don’t go.”

  I put my hand on hers. “I’ll be alright,” I tell her. “Everything is going to work out. We’ll see each other again.” My words seem familiar. They are what my mother told me, only I had always thought of them as a lie. As I say them to Liv now, I realize they were not lies, but words of hope.

  She nods in agreement and follows Justine through the archway and out of the chamber. I return to Ashur, his wings extended. He flaps them a few times, the glint from the feathers act as a prism against the light that emanates from within him, casting colorful spectral rays that dance around the walls. No matter how many times I see it, it remains a magnificent sight. His gaze is illuminated with a fiery brightness as he beckons me to come. I run to him, his arms snatching me in and we are off, like a brilliant flame spiraling out of the chamber and into the open air of night.

  Below us is the town. Despite the carnage, the street lamps and a few house lights are still lit. Just beyond the church are the fiery remains of the comet. The flames seem to have a life of their own, and then it becomes clear that it is more than fire, it is a figure emerging from the crater. From the distance it appears small, but when it stands erect, the true enormity of the figure becomes apparent. It stands at least two stories high. I am gripped with the sheer horror of it. It’s like nothing I imagined.

  “I thought he was just an angel,” I say.

  “He’s a seraph. They’re much bigger.” His tone is so matter of fact that it’s as if this should be known to anyone. “You’ve heard of Hell. He’s the one that etched it out of the belly of a dying star.” Ashur can see the fear on my face. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he says. The comment hardly seems appropriate for the occasion, but gives me assurance that at least he is confident that everything will be alright. I suppose in a situation as dire as this, little insanity is needed.

  “He’s not so bad,” I reply.

  Ashur smiles. “Alright. I will drop you off at the shop. Please hurry.”

  “Nervous,” I say.

  “You bet.” He takes in one last breath as he arches his back, then leans forward directing himself toward the town. We plummet headlong across the sky. As we approach the shop, I take a full view of the fiery creature. He is massive. The head is not that of a man, but almost like an ox. He steps from the crater not on feet but hooves extending from haunches, like those of a lion. Shaking off the embers, Sorath unfurls his wings, black and leathery like a bat’s. There isn’t a soft light like Ashur’s, but a fiery glow as if he were born from the depths of the earth.

  He scans the sky, quite aware of us. With extraordinary speed, he takes a still-burning mass of earth and flings it toward us. Before I can scream, Ashur jerks to the side as I bury my face into his chest. I can’t tell where the impact hit, but from the force, it must have hit him squarely in the back. We spin out of control towards a store front. Ashur does all he can to take the brunt of the collision. Concrete and mortar burst from awning of the building as Ashur’s shoulder digs in.

  We are rebounded to the ground and I roll out of Ashur’s arms onto the harsh asphalt. Despite his efforts to save me from injury, I can feel a sharp pain in my side and I am quite sure my ribs are cr
acked. It hurts to inhale, but I force myself to take in breaths. Cautiously, I turn myself on my side. Ashur is sprawled out on the road a few feet away from me. Dragging myself over to him, I look him over. He is breathing, but unconscious. His wings are crumpled underneath him, battered and torn. I raise myself to my knees; shards of pain penetrate my side.

  I cradle his head in my hands. “You’ve got to wake up,” I urge. “I can’t do this alone.” I look back toward the town center. I can see the movement of soft orange light, displacing the shadows. From around the corner emerges the creature. His walk is steady and inhuman, more of an animal walk than a man. Spotting us immediately, Sorath focuses his hollow gaze on me. “Ashur, I need you now,” I scream, shaking him.

  There is movement from Ashur. Dazed, he tries to get up. I help him to his feet, although the pain is excruciating. “We have to get out of here,” I say. We begin to hobble toward an alleyway, with me supporting some of his weight. In the distance, Sorath stoops beside a car. Placing a hand on it, the car bursts into flames. Unhindered by the blaze, Sorath takes hold of the roof through the broken-out front windshield, and heaves it off the ground with little effort.