Hope's Light

Chapter 29

by Erisian

Book 6

 

If you have yet to read the saga - the tale starts here:

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Need

 

“You good?”

Ignoring the immediate prostration of the giant and reptile-skinned elephant (who this time had forgotten to first bang the gong), I steadied Camael as he attempted to stand. The sudden shift had certainly unsettled him, but at least he hadn’t thrown up.

Though maybe that was because he hadn’t eaten in a ridiculously long time.

“You move direct through the abstract.” Straightening, he took in the barely illuminated surroundings. “Epsilon.”

“Yeah. We need to hurry.”

“I follow your lead.”

With two wings each we immediately took off, speeding across the dark and frozen terrain. “All things considered, can you fight?”

“By your grace am I fully restored.”

“Hardly mine. I am but a channel.”

He said nothing as rocky ice zipped past below. It was one of those silences where inner thoughts swirled with virulent emotion, and you knew the other party was quietly trying not to make it worse. But now was not the moment for working through anything further, as the glimpses I kept receiving through the mark weren’t good.

Comrades and friends were dying.

Flashes of bright fire in the far distant sky emphasized the urgency. Spotting their sources, he spoke immediately. “Use four wings.”

“Can the realm handle it?!”

“Beliel’s instrument can.”

Additional feathers flared across our backs, and we blinked forward to reach the conflict - Camael’s two-handed swing instantly spreading flames in their wake. Before I could celebrate only overshooting the mark by a few hundred yards instead of nautical miles, his blade had already cleaved a silver-armored angel attacker in twain - one of thirty equally silver-winged attackers spiraling in perfect coordination about their target: a figure hovering within their midst, platinum staff and gleaming armored wings deflecting sword after sword from all sides, while his white robe billowed in the wind born from the swiftness of his martially precise motions.

A robe bearing patches of spreading crimson.

The sudden arrival of the black and gold armored warrior scattered the swarm, and each Fly spat in shouted perfect unison. “Heaven’s Butcher?! Impossible!”

The warrior spun about, hovering there back to back against a wounded shepherd. “Raguel.”

“Brother.”

As the two floated together, the air warped and bent from the intensities surrounding all combatants. Beelzebub’s overwhelmingly-reinforced will pressed against the sky itself, preparing to hammer alongside each directed blow from the surrounding circle of Flies.

While the two at the center burned with hardened Purposes of their own.

“Amariel,” said Camael mind-to-mind as the fiery greatsword lifted. “Defend your people.”

Simultaneous to his message, explosions rocked the mountains below.

Oh heck.

“On it.”

Burning brighter still, I dove for the spiky peaks. But even as I did, Light flared through the two fighting patterns floating behind against a matrix of coalesced immovable stasis. Into both of their hearts poured as much as I dared give, before attention fully swiveled to the assault on the Spire’s plateaus - an attack now illuminated by our three fresh comets blazing across the sky.

The situation there immediately became revealed.

All the entrances to the caverns in the mountain were under attack, fresh ragged and fiery yellow portals had been ripped into existence by the angelic Flies. Spilling from those came unending waves of human Beelzebubs, each overwritten soul perfectly employing the knowledge, experience, and awareness of the whole.

Thus allowing them to wield swords and sorcery to the maximum of whatever each soul’s pattern could withstand.

On the largest plateau, green balefire lanced across bodies piling at its floating portal, the invaders never given the chance to orient themselves as Balus visited one-eyed doom upon any daring to enter his expansive range. At another, the cave’s mouth crackled blue with electric defensive power while assimilated ego-subsumed mages launched their full array of ranged spells upon it: fireballs, blasts of raw energy, all varieties of relentless sorcery hammering defenses slowly weakening yet maintained by a particularly stubborn axe-wielding Scot.

Upon a pause of those volleys, the shield immediately dropped and a rapid spread of empowered crystalline arrows impaled the closest attackers, their silver robes too blossoming with shades of scarlet even as azure defenses reformed.

But it was the third and last entrance which required urgent aid. A lone warrior wielding a perfectly forged pair of katanas slaughtered warrior after warrior streaming from its targeted portal, weaving through attackers faster than normal eyes would ever track. To prevent burns he fought naked, for at such speeds cloth would catch fire due to friction against itself. A truth to which the scars across his entire body attested.

A body slick with not only his own blood but of foes and friend alike, for many of the dead and dying upon this plateau wore not the matching silver outfits of the invaders.

Realizing that engaging here with the Spear could damage the realm far more than even our restricted angelic presences would, a desire born of the instincts trained across many battles manifested within my fingers and palm. Whereas within a realm of my own I’d recently summoned a golden sword pulsing with spirit’s Purpose, here and now came something new.

A longbow of pure Light extended from my grip, an arrow of sheer brilliance drawn upon a string of sharpest intent - a bow which could fire as quickly as Twitch could swing his blades, no matter the magnitudes of power focused through its strikes.

Bolts of white flame streaked outward and illuminated the mountain, and with attention’s focus ramping further still, the streams split then split again, as multi-directed missiles slammed into targets below and set them aflame with a blaze which was much more than fire.

Wizards and mages immediately attempted to shield, their blood boiling to burst through their skin as the singular mind driving them forced each unit to exceed individual capacity, as Beelzebub shoved angelic-level will through patterns entirely unsuited to such intensity.

With my own thoughts burning with the sight of raw and fresh wounds across the ancient scars upon a dearest friend and loved one, Beelzebub’s attempt failed entire. Arrows scorched through that combined will one after the other - indeed, penetrating not just through them but the entire mountain upon which they stood, as lances of brightness punched out behind to impact the plains beyond.

Human souls, even rewritten, simply lacked sufficient capacity.

But the enemy possessed overwhelming numbers. The portals set against the three entrances widened further, and a rush of silent focused soldiers charged forward, emerging from a world which many intelligence briefings claimed to hold billions.

To a vision examining not only observable data but the patterns granting their existence, the expanse of those portals slipped tendrils of invasion into the Rock’s own matrices, slowly spreading to corrupt and convert the realm itself to the desires of Beelzebub.

Oh Hell no.

This place, this world, was not mine - but I had before held the weapon set at its center. In that moment our Purposes had aligned: to defend this realm, to defend its spirits. All of them, devil or demon or soul.

Every last one.

Shifting aim, another arrow flew, but not with the intent to kill. Instead it sped through the pattern, ignoring entire the physical rules granting the support the inhabiting spirits required, and thereby blazed through rock and ice to reach its target at the core of the realm.

Its Light hit Beliel’s mace, the tool by which Creation’s firmament had itself been forged. Through the arrow did the Source’s intent flow pure - and this time, the mace fought not against it.

Instead, the Second’s mighty implement embraced the energies entire.

With a tremendous pulse the Rock’s pattern convulsed, and all three portals shattered as if made of thinnest glass. That same wave slammed into the remaining silver angels spiraling around the two warriors defending each other’s backs, knocking their attackers across the sky to bounce beyond the boundaries of the realm.

Indeed some crashed past the Edge bordering this inverted bowl, there into depths from which they would never return.

One Fly, however, must have originally been of a stronger order of angel. With crossed arms, he fought against the overwhelming impulse bursting from this realm’s true master.

With calm expression despite the struggle of the effort he spoke, billions of eyes smoldering behind two orbs of silver fighting to focus.

“Hear me, Amariel! In your possession lies the seeds of ultimate destruction, yet your heart claims care for this Creation! Fulfill that care! Depart entire. Lest you end that which you profess to love!”

Wings twisting, this Beelzebub too fled.

The two remaining comrades, hovering there in a dark sky empty of all but them and a single star far above, turned to me as I sped closer to them.

I lowered the blazing bow. “So, uh, we won?”

After exchanging glances, they both slowly nodded.

It was clear though they were deeply pondering Beelzebub’s words.

Then again, so was I.

 

~o~O~o~

 

At Twitch’s bedside, I sat pensively. There were many others in greater need of Maddalena’s aid, so I had stayed with him to bandage as best I could until she could come - leaving the rest of the cleanup outside to everyone else. He’d gotten sliced and banged up, but nothing that would bleed out immediately.

I also managed to do more than simply bind the bloody spots with fresh cloth, but the physical healer’s art was something I still needed more practice in.

Maybe I should have been out helping elsewhere. But Nathanael wasn’t here to tell me otherwise, so darnit, I stayed at Twitch’s side. Besides, between Horatio and Balus, the encampment was in good hands to organize what needed to be done.

In fact, during the attack Horatio had deployed Vance and the twins to activate yet another prepared exit portal deep inside the mountain to use as an escape hatch if needed. The angelic Flies likely would have shut that down, but the folks here had initially thought the attack was sourced more locally.

Especially as no aid had come from parties who should have shown up to stand against the external threat.

Reaching through the echo of my Name etched upon his spirit, I contacted Nathanael. “Hank, old buddy, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, ma’am.”

“The Spires just got attacked by Flies.”

“Is that where you are?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I’ll be. Need me there?”

“Yes…wait, no. We fought them off. Instead, contact Cassiel and tell him to get his ass to the Citadel - along with a posse of the strongest out of those thousands of Grigori who’ve rallied to him. Oh, and make sure Tsáyidiel is there too.”

“A war-party? We huntin’ somewhere particular, ma’am? Like we talked, you’ll be needin’ a lot more firepower if you’re goin’ after Samael.”

“Things on that front are resolved.”

“Already? Huh. And the Chief?”

“Restored. Will fill you in when I arrive. Which shouldn’t be long - time here and there is currently wobbling around parity.”

“Roger that, ma’am, we’ll stand by.” He hesitated, then added, “How many did we lose?”

“A lot less than we could have. By cheating, I arrived here in time.”

“Cheating?”

“Like I once told a certain jerkface commander, I’m full of surprises.”

“No argument there, ma’am.”

“Talk to you soon.”

Picking up a particular old and well-used waterskin, I encouraged Twitch to take another long swallow. The container, forged from the soul of his former reaper partner, never ran dry of cool and clear water. It was his most prized possession. Well, not a possession so much as a duty of care. Leila, having been horribly wounded, had clearly loved him fiercely to save him by transforming into the endless skin - now she was forever silenced, and he had barely spoken more than a single word ever since himself.

What can I say. Hell sucks.

After his absolutely exhausted arm lowered, I used the precious endless waterskin to wet more cloth and dab at his scarred forehead. Eyes closing, he sank further into pillows and blankets as his breathing deepened.

When I’d cleaned and tended all I could, I muttered, “Dammit, Tommy, you don’t belong here.”

He’d fallen asleep and so didn’t hear.

 

~o~O~o~

 

An hour later I was forced to leave Twitch to his (hopefully) peaceful sleep. It had been hard to let go of his hand, but outside the caverns the Servitors of Light had showed up - so naturally I was needed.

And I’d spent enough time sitting there struggling between the two disagreeing sides of my spirit.

Striding out onto the higher plateau in a simple dress of white and gold which was totally unsuitable for such cold, angels in pastel-trimmed and freshly bright robes dropped to their knees. As did the warrior in much darker armor holding a crown-like helm under an arm.

To him, I spoke first of what still lay as a brick upon the heart.

“It still hurts.”

The restored eye upon his face was now marked by a deep scar above and below, a line across socket and dark skin. He’d been healed, but a reminder remained. “It will.”

“Did Gabriel tell you to?”

“No. Her contact by necessity was limited.”

Wings manifested behind me without direct intent, feathers vibrating in tune with each inner tremble. “Was there truly no other way??”

Irises such a deep brown they were practically black neither flinched nor looked away. “I could foresee no other path to such a moment of purest grace.”

“How…how hard did you try?”

Raguel stepped to his brother’s side, holding the shepherd’s crook. “Amariel,” he said, “consider-”

I rudely interrupted him. “Stop! They were good people! All of them!”

The blood-stained armored warrior stoically agreed. “They were.”

Between us, with wings spread I could feel it. Through my spirit that shining glory above had reconnected to him, wrapping Camael in its divine glow, enfolding him within its infinite love.

And yet it hurt.

“I want to forgive.”

He exhaled. “You need not do so.”

“The Light already has.” I refused to wipe away the emerging tears as a question escaped lips. “How can my chest swell with all this care and compassion for you, all while still bleeding such sorrow?!”

Raguel leaned against the staff, head lowering while speaking past falling bangs of white. “This is the price of love.”

Searching Camael’s newly marked face and anciently scarred spirit, I asked, “If you could go back, would you now look deeper to be sure?”

Without even flinching, he answered straightaway. “No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because success gives proof to the necessity. Creation needed-”

“Creation!! Was it Creation that needed or yourself?!”

Unlike when a dear friend had been asked a similarly phrased question, Camael had ready and calm reply. “Both. For that is who and what we are.”

Beyond him waited nervous winged servitors resting still upon their knees. Stepping between Camael and the shepherd, I paused there, and neither moved as I did so.

“Raguel,” I said without looking at him, “In an earlier conversation you implied that the deeds of angels were but scaffolds for the realities forged by souls.”

In that careful and slow way of his, he considered before responding. “In a way, yes, that is correct.”

Fingers of their own accord reached out to first brush then take hold of the soft feathers of Camael’s singly purified wing. “That’s a heap of graxhshit. Our stories are as painfully real as theirs.”

Letting go, I moved past towards the gathered throng still sparkling with previously shared Light.

Neither Raguel nor Camael dared argue the point, and I walked on.

 

~o~O~o~

 

The leader (or at least spokesperson…erm, spokesangel?) of the freed Servitors was named Saphiel, known as the Ruler of the Lord’s Day. While escorting them all inside for refreshment, I idly pondered if that title left him uncomfortable in places such as this where day and night simply did not exist.

Not that I asked.

Maybe it was due to the fact they’d just been freed from eons of bondage to Samael, but the twenty brightly-robed angels settled rather quietly all around the long half-circle conference table on Horatio’s patio, and each were brought cups of wine. At one end of the crescent table, Camael and Raguel had also taken seats, and once everyone was served Horatio motioned for all non-angelics to depart.

As for myself I remained standing, pacing at the center while numerous recently unbound eyes silently watched every move.

Oh. Guess my mood flickering across their wings may have been adding to their nervousness.

“So, Saphiel,” I said, trying to sound more casual and likely failing. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions.”

The short-haired blond lowered his head respectfully. “We will answer all we can, milady.”

The rest nodded agreement. And no, they weren’t all blond - their physical manifestations were as varied as the people of the Earth: Asian, African, European, American, short and tall, dark flowing locks to spiky tight crimson, some were thick with powerful muscle and others slender with grace. Some even had beards; together they were quite a diverse crew.

All except for their eyes, each a shining gold more solid and pure than my own, as theirs lacked the sporadic silver flecks gifted by my spirit’s mother.

“Samael used you as seers, correct?”

“Yes, milady. As much as we were able.”

“To see the past, present, and future.”

“Yes, milady.”

“Which kinda begs the question, doesn’t it? If your visions of such are so good, how did Samael manage to capture you?”

Saphiel shifted on the hard felwood chair. “Two reasons, milady.”

“Which are?”

“Without the Light of Helel flowing true, and being as we are cut off from the Throne, our abilities are diminished from what they once were.”

Okay, that made sense. To reach their full potentials they needed the leader of their House to bolster them, which Lucifer had denied by skipping out of Hell without them. Which triggered yet another question, namely whether they’d followed him across the Gate not so much out of loyalty, but a desire to remain fully-empowered.

Yeah, didn’t ask that one either.

“And the second?” I prodded.

He sighed. “Ithuriel, milady.”

“Ithuriel?”

Clasping his cup in both hands, he stared into it. “She betrayed us.”

A lady with shoulder-length hair of shimmering black snorted. “No. She saved us.”

Saphiel grew annoyed. “She lured us to where Samael could grab us all! Before we even realized Helel had departed Hell! We’ve been over this countless times-”

The woman, who had been sitting both relaxed yet wary with perfect poise, interrupted him. “And even without cloth across eyes and plugs in ears, you still are blind. Ithuriel did as she must.”

“Eleleth, after what we’ve been through, how can you-”

It was my turn to cut him off. “Okay, hold it! Eleleth, if you would, explain.”

As directed, the Ruler of the Lord’s Day hushed to let her answer.

“It is rather simple,” Eleleth said into Saphiel’s reluctant silence, her words carrying a modicum of scorn directed at her fellow Servitor. “Without the First, we are vulnerable. The Sarim of Hell would have scrambled like the beasts they are to capture every last Servitor of Light they could. Then they would have abused us in all the ways in which they delight in their base indulgences of vengeance, and forced us to work for them in between such torture. Samael kept us imprisoned, yes - but safe.”

Shouting, Saphiel rose from his seat. “He slaughtered those who refused to aid him!”

Eleleth coolly regarded him. “And out of fear you capitulated.”

“You also did his bidding!”

She scoffed. “Because I had faith in Ithuriel! Only a select few of our House can see into such distant futures, and she saw something the rest could not. Helel hid his plans from even our sight, yet she was ready.”

Saphiel planted hands on the table. “You don’t know that!”

“Again, I had faith. But now, I hold proof.”

He spluttered. “Proof, what proof?!”

Eleleth pointed a finger. “Her.”

Yeah, she pointed at me. “Great,” I said with a groan. “Just great.” Seeing Saphiel with those golden eyes of his about to bug out of the skull, I waved him back to his seat. “Alright, alright. That does bring up the other item I was going to ask about.”

Remembering the circumstance he was in, Saphiel dropped onto the chair and forced himself to be calm. “Other item, milady?”

“Yeah. Me. Do you know who I am?”

Eleleth spoke up, as Saphiel seemed genuinely unsure how to answer. “You are Amariel. Helel’s daughter ascended.”

“Right. I’m going to be blunt: I keep getting told I might destroy everything - as in Creation itself. And alternately may save it all. What exactly have you Servitors of Light seen? I need to know. Because I’m sick of the cryptic cupcake warning bullshit. My nerves have had it with that sort of crap.”

They all sat quiet, mostly staring at the table or into now-empty wine cups. Only Eleleth breathed in and, after marshaling resolve, spoke. “When you arrived in Hell, we felt it. The Destroyer, for the first time in ages, deployed us entire to squeeze every last glint of you from the pattern.”

“Yeah, I got that much from him. Where do I go from here?”

“We cannot say.”

Frustration mounted. “Cannot or will not?”

Saphiel shook his head and answered for her. “Cannot, milady. From the moment the Grigori Azazel pulled you into Chaos, our deepest visions blur.”

I pulled out a chair at the center of the weird table, and plonked down upon it backwards as otherwise the wings would have been in the way. No, it wasn’t a lady-like maneuver, but neither did my white tunic inadvertently flash anyone. “Samael said something about piercing even Elohim’s Gate to learn more.”

The Ruler of the Lord’s Day nodded. “By dint of mortal wizardry, channels may be opened. He has many mortal followers willing to do his bidding. Painful as it is, some few of us are able to tease sight through those cracks as well.”

“And what was seen?”

Saphiel looked back to Eleleth, and the lady whose white robe was trimmed with soft violet gave reply. “A chase for a certain Book, leading to a Nephelim’s escape from Earth, and to a crux event against a weapon of Chaos. Past that moment, I was unable to see.”

I chewed on a thumb. “And what was Samael’s assessment of all that?”

“He rejoiced that the son of Azrael would go forth and wreak havoc.” She was about to say something else, but hesitated.

“That’s not all, is it.”

“No,” she reluctantly admitted, “Ithuriel saw more. She informed him you would return to Hell as Archon and Archangel, bearing power enough to shatter the Throne.”

“But,” I said pointedly, “she didn’t see me actually do that, did she?”

“No, milady.”

“So what else did she see?! Dammit, tell me!!” That frustration already mentioned? Yup, definitely had increased and quickly was bypassing irritation to reach annoyance if not worse.

Maintaining perfect stoic expression against the crosshairs of my glare, Eleleth answered. “A Judgment. But not the outcome, for she shrieked in terrible agony from the attempt, spending many cycles overwhelmed by pain recovering.”

“A Judgment? You mean from Azrael?”

“Yes.”

A sinking feeling plummeted through an otherwise empty stomach. “And just what will he be Judging?”

Pure eyes of gold captured mine.

“You, milady. In the fullness of his sacred capacity and Purpose, the Archangel Azrael shall render holy Judgment upon you.”

Oh. Is that all?

Joy.

 

 

New chapters posted every Monday and Friday! If you're enjoying the story so far, let me know in the comments below! Thank you!

- Erisian