Hope's Light

Chapter 33

by Erisian

Book 6

 

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

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter Thirty-Three - Prayer

 

As I wasn’t needed to help Nathanael and the Grigori guide the accelerated evolutions swiftly covering the new planet, I slipped away. And not back to the Citadel.

Without fanfare I sneaked back into the Spires, finding a healed Twitch in the kitchens experimenting with a new soup recipe. Whatever he saw across my face needed no words, and he put down a spice container to swiftly enfold me in his arms, which of course caused tears to flow anew.

Dangit.

Leading me over to a bench, he sat with me until they slowed, even producing a handkerchief (okay, a scrap of beaten cloth) tucked away in the folds of his reaper uniform wrap.

I gratefully blew my nose upon it, and he refused its return.

Sighing softly, I leaned against him, cheek pressing against his chest and shoulder. “I should be happy. We won the war. And forged a miracle. Yet…” Eyes closed, only to again see dark feathers and fur.

Arms squeezed, and he nuzzled my hair.

“I’ve got the Book. And will need to go deal with Heaven.”

He went still.

“I’ve an idea on how to get souls out of Hell. I want you to come with me.”

Him shaking his head caused me to lean away, and meet eyes gone rather serious.

“Twitch…”

A hand gestured to not just the kitchens, but the entire encampment.

“You shouldn’t be-”

The hand shook more insistently.

“She is right,” a voice said from the doorway. “Your bright soul belongs not in Hell.”

Startled, we both turned to the silver-haired man leaning against a hooked staff.

I said his name as greeting. “Raguel.”

“Apologies, but your arrival was noticed.”

“And here I thought I’d been stealthy.”

He smiled as he stepped further in the room. “Justice may be said to be blind, but some presences are difficult to ignore.”

Twitch didn’t return the smile, indeed he released me to cross arms instead.

Raguel’s eyes twinkled kindly anyway. “It is alright, my friend. You have reignited the myth of the Pilgrim in the hearts of many. I can resume the mantle from here. Your acts - and hers - have rekindled my heart. Especially if she accomplishes this promise.”

Watching Twitch struggle inside, I spoke up. “I don’t know how many can come for the first trip. But I hope to establish a path.”

“Then,” said Raguel, “I shall send with you the strongest I have kept safe, for their faith shall aid you as they have me.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Yet you ask your most beloved companion to join?” Raguel asked lightly, his eyes of gold still shining.

“If he’s with me, I believe my heart won’t dare fail.”

That earned a slow and deeply considered nod from the angel. “On that, dear Amariel, you may very well be correct.” He looked back at Twitch. “Reflect on this carefully, young man, before you decide.”

Again Twitch shook his head. Hopping up from the bench, he picked up the waterskin resting on the counter near the bubbling cauldron of soup.

A waterskin he held out with a fierceness.

Oh.

“I don’t know if I-”

The pouch was shoved into my hands, though his own then covered mine.

After a deep inhale, wings unfurled.

 

Dead graxh stared lifeless, chests and stomachs sliced open by the monsters who had risen from the dirt to shred the harnessed beasts which had pulled the wagon. A clash of blade against armored hide came from beyond the wreckage, where Thomas blurred with speed in desperate flurries, searching for weaknesses his slender knives could exploit. Spheres of spikes and claws spun around him, striking repeatedly as a whirlwind with which he had but two blades to parry.

Whereas she clutched at a belly running slick with hot red of its own, the neglected womb exposed in the barest of blue light still flickering from the pair of toppled lanterns.

The burning and bloody mess accused her desperate fingers, reminding of precious cargo lost out of the need for one more hit, just one to settle nerves afire from going too long without that which only momentarily stemmed agonies of body and spirit.

Water spilling from shattered casks flooded past to be swallowed by thirsty soil, water that with her presence hadn’t been required. Her gift, useless in life where such bounty flowed through every pipe and faucet, here in the depths of damnation had found utility, had found purpose.

Thomas would need it. He would beat these things. He could make it back to the outpost.

But he would need to drink to carry on, to replenish that which leaked from those numerous yet shallow wounds, to stave off his own collapse.

Yet behind bleeding stomach, her spine had also severed, and the pull of inner regrets and sorrows would no longer be denied.

Except he needed that gift.

He needed it.

He needed her.

As all began to fade, through guilt and pain she wept a prayer.

A prayer repeated, unwavering and wrapped about while also clenched tight within.

Timeless and unchanging, refusing to let it go.

Over and over, echoing forever across empty inner darkness.

Until a distant Light pulsed.

And Thomas’ cracking voice reached for her...

 

“Leila.”

A slender face below short cropped brown locks lay against his lap. She blinked against the brightness suffusing the room, and a weak hand reached upward. “Thomas…you’re…”

He took her fingers, squeezing tenderly as the wraps below his eyes grew heavier with dampness.

Wings eased off the brilliance. “He’s fine, Leila,” I said softly. “You saved him. And thereby saved so many others.” As her confusion rose, partially from seeing a neon-bright angel, I added, “But don’t worry about that now. He’s alright, and so are you.”

She tried to sit up, but reforged muscles weren’t yet ready for such effort, and she sank back. Twitch looked quickly to me, before back at her.

I agreed. “See if she’ll eat some of your soup while I go find Maddalena. Let’s go Raguel, we should give these two a moment.”

After an ignored wave to the pair on the floor no longer holding any attention for us angels, we exited the kitchens to cross through the broad dining hall and its many tables awaiting mealtime.

As we reached the doors to the caverns beyond, he paused to lean against his staff.

“He will go with you. But she should remain.”

I checked the motion to turn the handle on the door. “He’ll want her to go too.”

“You may have reawoken her soul, but her place still lies within these realms.”

“Then he’ll insist on staying.”

“He shall not. For another waits for him beyond the Gate, another who has never let him go.”

“You seem awfully sure.”

“I am.”

“He just got her back. To separate them now would be cruel.”

“Events will work out, worry not.”

“I always worry. Why not about this?”

“Because it is just.” The folds besides his eyes crinkled with warm certainty.

“Oh.”

“Come. There are others who are also in need, and I believe you intend to speak with them as well.”

“Well, yeah. After I find Maddalena. How’d you know?”

He chuckled. “You are not the only angel possessing eyes with which to see. And you tread the paths of my Purpose.”

“That’s…actually reassuring.”

Reaching past, he pushed open the door. “As it should be.”

I walked through, and the shepherd followed.

Though maybe in truth it was the other way around.

 

~o~O~o~

 

“My dearest friend Jordan,” said Vance with a warm smile. “Or are you here as the Lady Amariel? Or perhaps as Warleader of the rebellious Sarim - forgive, as by your attire the appropriate formalities are, shall we say, perceptually nebulous.”

Having found Horatio first and dispatched him to summon Vance and the twins to his curved meeting table, by the time we’d then tracked down Maddalena and sent her to Twitch and Leila, the three Lilim had already arrived. Vance wore again his more raconteur aristocratic style, including a 17th century European black silk doublet smartly buttoned down to matching pantaloons. Ruyia and Yaria had gone with a different look, more Asian with their floor-length silk skirts of aquamarine, and matching wide-sleeved tops that hid many sharp and deadly instruments.

Glancing down at the contrast of my simple lavender dress cinched by belt of twine and its dangling scroll case, I shrugged. “Maybe a mix of all of those, if I think about it.”

“Then to each of your perfectly lovely aspects, we shall give full attention.” While the statement was immaculately polite, the mischievous lift to the still-growing mustache and cheeks hinted at more.

The twins, however, were all seriousness, sitting at the table to flank their father with hands carefully folded upon the felwood surface.

“Good,” I said, deciding I really didn’t feel like taking a chair - and thereby stood there awkwardly. “So…for reasons I’m sure you understand, I can’t just release you to Lilith.”

Yaria growled, but a warning glance from Vance kept her silent. Not happily though as demonstrated by her deepening scowl.

I pressed on anyway. “Neither can I, out of my love for you all, hand you over to the demons for execution.”

Vance tugged on the fresh mustache growth straining to achieve former glory. “For which we are grateful. But such provides an acute predicament, does it not?”

“It does. Which,” I said while resting elbows atop the back of a chair, “is why I offer a third option: banishment. Outside these realms of the fallen Sarim.”

Again Vance forestalled a daughter’s angry protest with a raised hand. “Banishment? To this world forged anew from Beelzebub’s wreckage?”

“Word travels fast. Though with you Lilim, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

He chuckled, but withheld comment.

“But no,” I continued, “That world is to be for souls only - no demons, no Lilim, no devils. With the angels themselves treading as lightly as possible.”

“Ah.” He leaned back in the chair. “Then again forgive, as I can think of no realms which could possibly meet such qualifications.”

“Then how about we start with Earth.”

The widow’s peak on Vance’s forehead stretched upward in surprise. “Earth?!”

Yaria’s chair shoved backwards, and her fist pounded the table as she stood. “Why tease us with impossibilities?! Have the Sarim instructed you to torture us without knives?!”

Ignoring her outburst, I spoke direct to Vance. “Your mother has a channel to Earth between her two aspects. I believe it can be utilized to create an opening.”

His eyes widened further. “The pond…”

“Exactly. The pond.”

“Father!” Yaria interjected. “What is she talking about?!”

I answered, but maintained focus on Vance. “The transit connection used to cleanse the Chaos from my spirit. Also employed by Lilith to transport the smuggled Tears out of Hell.”

Yaria made a choking noise, and then went silent.

Vance however spoke. “Mother shared not the destination.”

“I know.”

“Is she aware of your knowledge?” Lips under the non-quite spiraled growth pursed as implications continued their calculations.

“Most of it.”

“And have you proposed this already to her?”

“Not yet. I wanted to talk with you three first. This would mean leaving everything you’ve ever known behind, for a trip not certain to succeed.”

Again fingers ringed with precious metals and gems tugged the thin mustache. “But this proposal avoids our execution, as well as any further complications for Mother and the rest of our people.”

“Yes.”

“This…is an elegant solution. If it can be done.”

Ruyia, having herself stayed quiet only because her sister had shouted first, now objected. “You cannot be serious!!”

Vance turned towards her. “Mother exists both here and on the other side of that wall. Think you not that her heart transcends the limits of the Gate? She shall gladly welcome us, the first of her children to escape this prison!”

“But…!” Words failed Ruyia.

From Yaria’s sleeve a blackened dagger flew, loudly sticking point-first a solid inch into the table’s wood.

“We do it,” she announced angrily, now that she had all our attentions. “I hate it, but we do it. On one condition.”

“Daughter! We are in no position to demand-”

“I insist!” She stared then at me.

I met her dangerous glare. “What is it?”

“The Reaper Barry comes with us.”

Ruyia spluttered, while Vance did a double take, and both blurted, “What?!”

Yaria wrapped strong yet slender fingers around the embedded dagger’s hilt. “Ruyia is in love with that idiot. And the foolish ale-guzzling bear talks too much when deep in his cups.”

“He say he loves her too?” I asked, amused and also touched that even immortals like Ruyia could blush so fiercely.

“Bah,” snorted Yaria. “The dolt would shout that from the tops of these Spires, if the idea ever penetrated that thick head. No, the lout once let slip what landed him in Hell: tragedies born of the necessities of war. His guilt and remorse sent him here.” With a quick yank, the blade came free. “Face it, my sister, he is too good for you. Which is why you should never let him go.”

I thought about it. “You realize, as a soul he could be forced into reincarnation.”

Vance frowned. “And what of us? Is not Earth still under Seal against those of angelic lineage?”

“Well,” I said, echoing Vance’s earlier smirk, “I may have made some adjustments. Like giving myself an override.”

“That,” said Vance, “could cause trouble with Azrael, could it not?”

I shrugged. “Depends on which of the two try to yell at me.” Before he could ask, I waved him off. “That’s mine to worry about.”

He blinked in puzzlement, but didn’t press. “And the Gate itself? The threads woven by mortal wizardry which allow projection are barred against becoming anything more. Neither Mother nor any of the Bene-Elohim can defy the Edict of Throne.”

“Leave that to me as well, my friend. For in a way, I think Creation herself has granted my spirit the key.”

Three dubious faces reflected a mix of concern, contemplation, and restrained annoyance.

But they didn’t argue.

Though Ruyia did mutter, more to herself than to us.

“If he’s forced into a new life, I’ll follow and find him. To this I swear.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

Not wanting to intrude just yet on Twitch and Leila (okay, I may have been dreading doing so), I wandered through the caverned encampment attempting to collect fragmented thoughts. The Lilim, with the possibility of leaving the rest of their family forever, needed time to prepare.

Then again, so did I.

Walking past buildings occupied by demons and souls working together, I couldn’t help but ponder those demons - especially the ones from my original crew still sharing the star’s mark. A certain remembered comment by a brother and friend weighed on the mind.

I paused at the sparring ground, where a horned dire wolf sprouting additional human arms wielded sword and shield against an axe-bearing tentacled blob. As I watched them hack and dodge, the mark-driven threads between us resolved and became clear.

In Rabbi Kirov’s lectures he’d once commented that evil’s presence alone corrupts by proximity, as its naturalized and eventually accepted example may erode the righteous so slowly as to hardly be noticeable until too late.

What I saw here was the opposite, and while I really shouldn’t have been shocked, it still managed.

As through that mark, the Light slowly inched deeper into all connected, the gentlest of tides slowly washing in. It was the slightest tilt of difference, but already profound.

Training as they were, still did they harness power from the souls contained within. Still with harvested fury, pain, and adrenalin, but with an additional need not having been present before:

A desire to support and defend.

Rising within them, pulled from souls barely touched by the slightest of drips, these demons now wished for more. They, too, had tasted the Light, and Darkness alone was no longer sufficient for their growing appetites.

They may not have even realized it, but it was there.

Just as I hadn’t understood when last I fought besides them, and they had surprised by so fervently coming to my defense, buying with their lives the needed time for us to win. I had, without knowing, been feeding them something new.

And they literally were made of what they ate.

So lost was I in this revelation that I hadn’t noticed the two stop their bout, hadn’t noticed them and everyone else around dropping to knees. Souls and demons had emerged from the buildings, whispering to one another, none daring disturb the spaced-out woman with silly flashlights for eyes.

Good grief.

A mental tug intervened. “Milady?”

“Go ahead, Saphiel. What is it?”

“A messenger has arrived. They refuse to speak to any but you.”

“Who are they?”

“They claim the name of Drek, and are in the service of Abagor.”

“Oh. Him. He outside?”

“He is, milady.”

“On my way.”

Releasing the contact (or at least attention to it), I gave the kneeling crowd an awkward wave. “Please, continue.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, I made my way towards the closest cavern exit.

And no, I didn’t hurry. My walk normally was that brisk. Oh hush.

Escaping - ahem, exiting - the cavern, I crossed the plateau to approach the waiting and hovering angel. Wearing the same beautifully-forged silver armor I had seen before, the almost Sidhe-featured angel with blue-black hair offered a deep bow.

“Lady Amariel.”

“Hello Duchiel.”

Irritation soured those high cheekbones as he straightened. “I am known as Drek, milady.”

“Yet that is not your true Name, besmeared and neglected though it may be. What news from Prince Abagor?”

Clearly wanting to say more but not daring to, he answered the question. “The Sarim have declared the war with Beelzebub won.”

“It is.” As for me, I wanted to add ‘what gave them the first clue?’, but I too bit my tongue. Diplomacy at its finest!

“As such the position of Warleader for this cause is no longer required.”

“Naturally. They start stabbing each other in the backs yet?”

A hint of amusement crossed his lips. “Not that I am aware, milady. But the knives are surely sharp and ready.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

“My prince demands resolution of a certain issue impinging upon his domain.” His eyes flicked past my shoulder to the caverns behind.

“Tell him I am working on a solution, one which should satisfy all involved parties.”

“He will certainly ask what such could possibly be.”

“As currently it is in the planning stages, I am unwilling to share details at this time. Other than to note that it will be unprecedented, and something only I could provide.”

The ties between Duchiel and Abagor flickered in the ether between here and the other side of the Rock. Interesting, Abagor had returned to this realm - yet had also sent a messenger instead of visiting personally.

I suppose I could have taken insult at that, but it did maintain a layer of separation regarding the aforementioned ‘issue’.

“My prince states that in honor of our recent victory, he shall exercise extreme patience and await your proposal. For now.”

“How kind of him.” If sarcasm could drip from lips, I’d have needed a napkin. If not a towel.

Duchiel ignored the tone. “He also adds a passed-on request: Prince Asmodeus wishes, at your convenience, your returned presence to his Garden of Pearls.”

“Convey to Prince Abagor my gratitude for delivery of this request.”

“I shall, milady.” With a second bow and my nodded response, he disappeared into the almost-empty sky where Nathanael’s gift twinkled still within that lightless night. It shone all the more bright, not from its intensity, but rather the sheer contrast against the otherwise cover of total darkness.

It caught at the eye, that star, inevitably calling attention without demanding.

Probably a lesson in there somewhere, but at the moment thoughts became busy, juggling what would be needed to pull off the intended stunt.

Lost in planning’s requirements while gazing upward, a voice from behind broke the contemplative silence.

“My Queen.”

I’d felt her approach, so that wasn’t what startled. Yet I flinched as pain still raw flooded from those two words, spoken most often of late by another, and the gaze that swung to meet her may have contained unintended agonized reproach.

Maddalena immediately dropped to a knee with lowered head. “If I have disturbed-”

“No, no it’s just…oh hon.” I pulled her up, then wrapped arms around shoulders covered with her dark and curly hair. “I’ve lost someone dear, and to him I also was his queen.”

“You are queen to many.”

Seeing her discomfort, I let her go. “Which doesn’t stop wishing to be only a friend.”

“But you are-”

“-What I am.” I finished for her. “I know.” Gathering myself together, I shifted to a more formal parade-rest stance. “Now - you would not have broken my reverie were it not important.”

She nodded. “I’ve come about Leila.”

Concern flared. “Is she okay?!”

“She is fine, my…my Queen.” The priestess said the last defiantly.

I let that go too. “Then what is it?”

“Her abilities are greater than she may realize.”

“Hmm? She was able to summon water, right?”

“Yes, but I believe those waters can be more. She carries the potential to be a healer, perhaps stronger than I.”

“Stronger than…but you’re amazing.”

“Thank you, my Queen. But even I have limits - ones I sense not within her, as if such had somehow been removed should she but tap deeper.”

A memory of Leila’s waterskin pouring over a dreadfully wounded Lilim’s bare chest flashed past. Of my hands filled with channeled love and desperate need flowing into the life-preserving stream.

Oh wow.

“That may be my spirit’s doing.”

“Yours?” The priestess didn’t really question the possibility, but curiosity certainly piqued.

“Leila’s waters were used to channel the love of two daughters frantically trying to save their father, as blended with Twitch’s love of her that she may aid them as well as him. Can you teach her to use it?”

“Me, my Queen? I am no teacher.”

“Yet you learned how to use yours.”

“In dreams sent from the Goddess. Such gifts are divine, and best taught by true inspiration from those above.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “And what if the divine was there in person?”

“You, my Queen?”

“Not me, my lovely priestess. But another whose teachings are forever in service of all everyone here has fought to build.” The smile became a gentle laugh. “Which would also preserve the scales with your departure.”

“Departure? Wherefore am I to go?”

“With me, dear Maddalena. With me. But not yet, for there are things I must do first, as must you.”

“I am here for whatever you need, my Queen.”

“Then find the angel Raguel - known here as Herald. And on my behalf, ask him to take Leila as a student. Tell him she will require his balanced ways.”

“As you request, so shall it be done.”

“Speak also with Vance and the Twins. Tell them I shall prepare the way, and that I ask for you and them to be ready. The reforged connection to Lilith’s tower in Dis still stands, and while I no longer require its passage, many others will have need when I call.”

“We shall be prepared.”

With palms on the shorter woman’s shoulders, I kissed the many curls atop her head. “Then I go in confidence.”

After receiving her curtsy and polite nod, I let manifested wings carry me upward as if floating towards that distant star. The more I thought about it, the more it felt right.

This could actually work.

My friends might yet be saved.

 

 

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

- Erisian