“For the mission we’ve come to accomplish on Earth,” replied Van der Worthen with compassion, “I can assure you that it is.”
“How can love and happiness make us vulnerable?”
“Earthly love distracts us, Tara. Sometimes it's our greatest enemy.”
“As soon as I get Hagen back,” she warned her categorically, “I'm going back to him.”
“As soon as you get Hagen back,” Emily agreed, “you can do what you want.”
With that, she patted her thigh and smiled:
“Today,” she said sternly, as she got up, “you start training. There’s bread, butter and jam on the kitchen table, and even eggs if you want. The others are already having breakfast. Go and join them, and make sure you eat, because you won't get any more food until tonight.”
As soon as this sentence was pronounced, Tara froze. Dozens of flashbacks were occurring in her mind, one after the other. She saw herself hundreds of years earlier, in different bodies, during different eras, leading the incarnated angels that belonged to her. She made their human bodies sweat as she worked them into a state of exhaustion, in the hopes of bringing out the best in each and every one of them. As a seraph, it had always been Diane's duty to train the missionaries who belonged to her legion when they came to Earth. She was assisted in this task by the six officers of her own army, the archangels. Each angel who had already experienced their Revelation had to stay, either with her or with their archangel, as long as it took to fully develop their spiritual and physical capacities.
Each of her missionaries had to master their bodies and their powers to perfection. Diane had never tolerated weakness. Just as Tara should have had Hagen with her now, each warrior possessed a spheric weapon of their own. The weapons were created at the same time each angel was created, and from the same matter. If the weapon was destroyed, the result would be similar to losing a limb. Every missionary, without exception, had to flawlessly master their spheric weapon.
Moreover, Diane had always been uncompromising when it came to the mastery of the arts of combat: the nature of their mission on the earthly plane didn’t only pit them against demons, therefore their angelic weapons weren’t always the best option. They often had to eliminate humans when they posed too great a risk to Earth's ecosystem, but their elimination was only relative to their incarnation. In other words, only their bodies were eliminated, not their souls. Under no circumstances could their souls be harmed. Since the spheric weapons killed both the body and the soul, they couldn’t be used against humans. Thus, the soldiers' ability to fight hand-to-hand or with human weapons, was their best asset when it came to slaying them. It allowed for their souls to enter Heaven after the death of their bodies.
Nevertheless, unlike spheric weapons, physical combat required a much more difficult apprenticeship because the weapon was the body, and since the body changed from one incarnation to the next, each new incarnation required them to get reacquainted with their bodies. Thus, it was necessary to reeducate the body, shaping its muscles, working on its flexibility and reflexes… all the while taking into account its particularities. As missionaries of the same legion, Tara had already trained Emily, Mark, Hugo, John and Stanislas in her previous lives. Today, because Diane had chosen a body that would inhibit her memory, Tara had to relearn everything, from how to control her body, to how to use her weapon... if only she could find it…
Understanding Emily’s approach, Tara smiled sadly. Van der Worthen was the one who would train her now, as she herself had trained hundreds of missionaries in the past.
“This time, I’m going to be your apprentice...”
“It's an honor for me to be able to help you,” reassured Emily, as she stood at attention at the door.
“I know what you’ll be expecting of me,” continued Tara, immersed in her memories. “I'm the one who developed these training sessions...”
“All you need to do now is execute them,” Van der Worthen replied, trying not to offend her, but knowing very well that recuperating Diane’s capacities in her present body would be extremely difficult for Tara.
The physical, spiritual and psychic abilities of an angel in any given lifetime on Earth, always depend on the innate skills and abilities of the body chosen by the angel. Because their mission requires it, the legionaries are entitled to bodies much more powerful than those of ordinary humans; and the bodies of the archangels are even stronger than those of the legionaries, both physically and spiritually. The Seraphim however, are entitled to bodies of truly exceptional capacities. Their survival being essential to the Sphere, they keep most of their angelic faculties from one incarnation to the next: superhuman strength, tremendous healing powers, perfect control and understanding of their intuitive minds, and full memory of their past lives.
In contrast, Diane, who had incarnated with the sole objective of fleeing something, had chosen a body that had none of the predispositions associated with a seraph. Tara was no more inclined to fight than she was to remember her past lives. Nevertheless, with enormous amounts of training, there was a chance she could acquire the abilities that the seraph had intentionally ignored.
Thus, Diane, who had always been born with the memory of her past lives intact, as well as perfect mastery of her body and the arts of combat, now found herself in a position where she would be trained by the legionaries she had trained so many times before. All Tara could do now was set aside her pride and follow Emily’s instructions.
“For how long did you say I was missing?” she asked.
“About two hundred and thirty-six years.”
“That's a very long time for one mission, isn't it?”
Emily nodded gravely. Tara looked away, pensive. She suddenly felt the weight of the error she had made by avoiding her responsibilities for over two centuries:
“And who trained my missionaries during my absence? Did someone replace me at the head of the Fifth Legion?”
Emily hesitated before replying:
“Under your leadership, the Fifth Legion had always been the strongest legion. When you left, They wanted to appoint a new seraph, but all your archangels and their regiments rebelled...”
“What do you mean? You confronted the Sages?”
“Yes, we did. It was a first in the history of the Sphere. But we won.”
“How did we win?”
“It's a long story. I'd rather wait until you and Diane are fully reunited before I explain. Just know that our victory allowed your archangels the right to be born into highly sensitive bodies, like those intended for the Seraphim. This allowed us to continue training our legionaries ourselves, without the help of a new seraph...”
Tara raised her eyebrows. The Decision-Makers were inflexible by nature, so she was extremely surprised to learn that They had agreed to change the rules of the game so the Fifth Legion could survive. She couldn’t believe it. She had no memory of such an exception being granted in the entire history of the Congregation.
Knowing this, she couldn’t help but consider Emily with greater respect. The mistress of the house, who led her missionaries with an iron hand, was one of her six archangels. Her determination to find her over the centuries, without ever losing hope, was an indisputable proof of her loyalty. She was extremely grateful to her and didn’t know how to thank her:
“So, it was you who took care of my army during my absence...”
“As the archangel of the second regiment, I was only able to take care of the missionaries who were under my own authority,” corrected Emily modestly. “That includes all the missionaries present in this apartment. And thanks to the exceptional capabilities of my physical body, I can train you now too. As an archangel, it’s an honor for me to do so.”
Tara nodded. Her heart was heavy with regret. Her army had been so faithful to her that they refused to accept the new leader that had been assigned by the Congregation. She was the only one they had recognized as their legitimate commander and they had never lost faith in he
r, despite her absence. And how had she thanked them? By disappearing for over two hundred years... She felt so guilty and unworthy of them. How could she have vanished overnight? How could she have abandoned an army of angels she had been so devoted to, and who had shown her the same devotion in return?
“We waited for you for so long,” said Emily, moved. “We knew you couldn’t have abandoned us without a legitimate reason. Some of us, like Hugo and John, never stopped looking for you. They succeeded in getting close to you on occasion, but none of us had ever managed, in over two hundred years, to bring you back to us so you could resume your position at the head of your army...”
Tara watched Emily as she spoke. Every word she said made her feel more and more remorseful. Right now, her soldiers were of little use to the Sphere, which explained why they hadn’t received many missions during her absence. She suddenly became aware of the immense responsibility that lay on her shoulders. Hundreds of angels awaited her return in the other dimension. She was respected and she was loved. Resuming her position as leader of her legion was her priority now.
“We have to move forward,” she declared, as if talking to herself. “I need to regain my abilities as quickly as possible and reconnect with my missionaries and the Decision-Makers… I remember each and every one of you,” she continued gravely, deeply immersed in her memories. “All of my missionaries. I know you all by heart...”
“You have no idea how much it pleases me to hear that,” Emily said, her voice trembling.
“You were all so brave to continue fighting in my absence... I'm ashamed to have left you.”
“We’re the missionaries of the Fifth Legion. We belong to you Tara, now and forever. You’ve always led us to victory. A two-hundred-year absence can’t destroy the millennia we’ve spent fighting alongside you.”
With that, Emily motioned to her to follow her into the hallway. Curious, Tara got up. For the first time since she had moved to Van der Worthen apartment, she felt the need to know more about her new home, the home her angels had chosen for their umpteenth life on Earth:
“Emily, before we start training, would you mind showing me around?”
Van der Worthen turned to her in surprise. She couldn't hold back a flattered smile.
“It would be my pleasure,” she said, still standing in front of Tara’s bedroom.
“To my right, as you know, is the entrance hall and the main living room.
“The main living room?” Tara repeated in amusement. “Because there's a second one?”
“There are seven of us living in this apartment,” reminded Emily with a wink. “After the main living room, at the beginning of the corridor, there's the guest room where you rested when you arrived... And immediately next to it, your new room, and next to your room is John’s room.”
“Yes, that's what I had assumed.”
“Opposite your rooms are Hugo and Mark's rooms.”
Emily walked as she pointed out each room:
“After John's room, here on my right, is the spiritual room...”
“The room where Stanislas stabbed me...”
“The room in which you had your Revelation,” corrected Emily, to whom Revelation was synonymous to rebirth.
When they reached the spiritual room, Tara felt, as always, slightly sick to her stomach. She still hadn’t digested the dreadful memory of her death. Mark’s room was right in front of the spiritual room. No wonder he had seemed so cold the first time she saw him. She wondered if all the rooms were as beautiful and spacious as hers. According to Hugo, the answer was yes, and probably even more so.
Then they arrived at the kitchen which was next to Mark's room and opposite Nina's room. It was huge and served as a dining room as well as a kitchen. The design was modern, with its orange lacquer and light solid wood cupboards and its high-tech kitchen equipment. Two large paneled windows overlooked the inner courtyard of the building and bathed the room in light from sunrise to sunset. In the middle of the room was a large central island with a sparkling clean sink, surrounded by a solid wood counter top that stretched out and turned into a table at its end. The residents of the apartment sat on high stools made from wood and stainless-steel. They were already having breakfast. Tara felt intimidated, seeing them all there together.
“Hello, Miss Châvignier!” said Hugo with his mouth full. “I hope you like your bouquet of roses! I didn't dare disturb you when I got back home last night, so I put them in a vase so you’d find them when you woke up.”
With his finger full of jam, the gladiator pointed to a large crystal vase that held dozens of red roses. It was sitting on the solid wood counter top. Tara felt her heart pound against her chest. It was absolutely sublime! Generous and resplendent, just like their love.
“Are you going to join us Tara?” asked John, while cutting a slice of bread.
“Go ahead,” whispered Emily as she left. “Eat well. We'll resume our visit later. I'll wait for you in the main living room.”
Emily didn’t need to repeat her proposal twice. Not having eaten the night before, she was ravenous. She quickly spotted an empty stool between Mark and Stanislas and went to join them. Strangely, as she sat down next to the Viking, she realized that she felt less alone in front of the others. He had a tranquil and kind aura that made her feel at ease. She no longer considered him to be cold and threatening like she had when he had taken her by force to the spiritual room the first time she had set foot in the apartment.
Nina sat facing her, avoiding her gaze while she ate, her nose pointing towards her plate. She had abandoned her the day before, leaving her at the mercy of the demon in the elevator. Her unacceptable behavior had almost cost Tara her life. Seeing Nina sitting there in front of her, she felt a violent sense of resentment towards her. Yet, she didn’t allow her sentiments to show and gave no indication of her bitterness. She wished to appear wise in the presence of her missionaries.
When she had taken her seat, John pushed the butter and jam jars in her direction, inviting her to help herself.
“Hey, what about us!” Hugo exclaimed in panic, afraid that his food was going to be taken away from him.
“Manners wouldn't hurt you,” commented Stanislas in a sarcastic tone.
For the first time since she had met him, Tara saw Hugo lose his usual self-confidence. She immediately understood how much respect he had for Stanislas. Intrigued, she turned to look at the old man’s face, as he swallowed his toast without flinching. From this angle, she had an unobstructed view of his empty eye sockets. Horrified, she immediately turned her head the other way.
“Does my face bother you?” asked Stanislas, amused.
Tara froze on her stool, not knowing what to say. She was terribly embarrassed that he had perceived her repulsion.
“I'm... I'm sorry,” she stammered.
“I'm just teasing. You have every right to feel the way you do.”
Tara remained silent, still feeling uncomfortable. She looked at Nina who was quietly eating her honey-covered toast. She still hadn’t dared to look up at her. Did she feel guilty about what had happened to her yesterday, or was she just upset that she had to endure Tara’s presence while she ate her breakfast?
Tara couldn’t remain mute any longer. She had to know once and for all if her fate was so inconsequential to the coach that she didn’t even care to acknowledge her. With her heart beating wildly, she mustered up the courage to initiate the conversation:
“Hello Nina. Did you enjoy your afternoon yesterday?”
Nina’s eyes remained glued to her toast. Her awkward gestures with her knife full of butter betrayed her discomfort. Still looking down, she remained silent for a few seconds before declaring in a tortured voice:
“I’m sorry for yesterday Tara.”
Her words sounded so honest and sincere that Tara was flabbergasted. Her apology was completely unexpected and destabilizing, as she wasn’t accustomed to any sort of kindness on behalf of Nina. She didn't want to feel angry
and blameful towards her anymore. Oddly, her heart was pounding as if a man had just declared his love for her.
After a short silence, she managed to respond:
“Forget it... Just don't let it happen again. If you don't want to protect me until I regain my powers, I'll ask someone else to do it.”
Nina didn't respond. Her head was still lowered as she continued waving her cutlery around with the same nervous air. Hugo watched the scene, both amused and outraged:
“Is that all? You almost died because of her and all you can say is, ‘Forget it’?”
Surprised by his reaction, Tara looked at Nina who seemed to be shrinking in her seat.
“Hugo!” interrupted Stanislas, “you're not here to cause trouble.”
“I'm just surprised that such a blatant and severe act of insubordination is so easily forgiven, especially since it could have led to the annihilation of our seraph. Instead of looking out for Tara, Nina chose to coach one of her rich clients.”
“There’s wisdom in forgiveness,” replied Stanislas with a harsh voice. “I don't understand what’s going on with you this morning. I’m ashamed of you.”
Hurt by Stanislas’ words, Hugo tried to explain:
“If her actions don’t shock you, so much the better. But you can’t deny that Tara has a soft spot for Nina…”
Before he even had time to finish his sentence, a sharp blow resounded in the room as Tara witnessed the attack on Hugo's face. In a tenth of a second, Nina had gotten up from her stool and had placed such a phenomenally powerful uppercut on the young man’s face that had been projected backwards.
Stanislas and Mark smiled, while Tara and John remained shocked by such violence at the breakfast table. Nina bent down and grabbed Hugo by the neck. In a murderous voice, she whispered in his ear. Acknowledging that he had ventured onto slippery ground, Hugo didn't try to defend himself. After a moment, Nina finally let go of him and regained her place at the table.
Embarrassed for Hugo, Tara tried to act as if nothing had happened and grabbed the butter instead. She discreetly looked up at Nina. She was attempting to regain her composure, but her black bulging eyes still examined the table, as if they were searching for a new victim among the toast and jam.
HAGEN: 1. Revelations Page 18