Hope's Light

Chapter 27

by Erisian

Book 6

 

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

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Part Six

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Pursuits

 

Entire chapters spin past.

A terrible encompassing war visits destruction’s touch to every level of Creation - slaughter and fire, anguish and ruin, all spreads ahead. Victories and losses pile on, culminating in the great rift cleaved across the tapestry, and a Gate forever locking one side from the other.

But the travails end not there. A spark of conflict - brief but explosive, carrying dreadful potential of resumed division hoped forever silenced - strikes at the City and at the Throne itself. Firmament trembles and cracks from the duel of duels as transcendent forces fight above, only for the returned Light to fall as a trail of crimson stars across that eternal gap, followed thereafter by a darker twin whose own tears wish for naught but to cast off the painful burdens of that which was.

Yet time moves on, an arrow marching only forward.

Pages then settle upon a selected passage, and as the viewer I am again drawn in as silent witness. The scene is both viewed anew and remembered, strands entwined as a gift unto my existence also conveying the memory.

The focus narrows to a mountain clearing, upon a precipice where air grows too thin for even the hardiest of trees. There, before two wide slabs of stone set against the peak, arrive two angels - each with feathers of immaculate shining white, alighting to stand below a sky bright yet without sun.

“Gabriel, why have you bid me come?” asks the taller as he touches the blank stone set in place to lock passage below mountain and realm. A steady breeze disturbs his lengths of soft brown curls bound by a simple ribbon of blue, the chill air’s embrace swaying also the golden hem of a brilliant ivory robe perfectly matching the feathers enfolding back and shoulders.

The shorter figure, brushing strands of strawberry from her cheek, lets wind catch hold to stream the reddish hue off to the side. “Because, dear brother, we must talk.”

Sliding a palm across smooth surface, his thoughts cannot help but contemplate the remembered sorrows that lay behind the solid barrier. “And we needed to do so here?”

“Even our towers provide not the privacy required.”

Raphael turns, amusement filling features elegant and kind. “Have we such need of secrecy?”

Emerald irises reflect the strength of the mountain, for it too is of her essence. “This is what I must discover.”

“Ah.”

“The gift and burden of judgment may not be mine to bear, yet I too am able to discern patterns. Even of threads others wish for me to not take notice.”

“You are of the Light, perception is naturally your forte.”

“Then why do you and our beloved Defender endeavor to hide from me your worries? Though he does his best to not show, underneath that eternal martial calm Michael grows pensive and concerned. And your walks amongst the city, carrying laughter and joy wherever your feet may tread, have lessened in number. Instead, you and your healers spend increasing time within your tower - or besides the Throne of Elohim.”

Amusement fades, and a heaviness darkens the depths of the oceans found within his eyes. “Are you sure you wish an answer? For some burdens weigh greatly, dear sister.”

“That you both have not shared your concerns troubles me more. Speak, Raphael, and speak true. What sparks such trepidation? Do our ancient foes beyond the borders stir once more?”

The angel of healing shakes his head. “It is not an external threat that faces us.”

Startled, Gabriel’s many feathers flutter. “I have heard no rumors even hinting at any fresh disloyalty!”

“Yet the scars of the previous deepen.”

“What are you saying?!”

He sighs, and with the gentlest of touches takes her graceful hands into his. “Azrael’s fissure, the wounds within the heart of Elohim, do not improve. Nay, they fester and burn - growing worse with each turning of the age.”

“You said He would heal!”

“And I was wrong.”

Desire for anger clashes with tender mercy, for the pain and worry within her brother’s admission is experienced raw. Gathering herself, she squeezes his fingers tight. “What must I do to help?”

“Michael insists this be kept hidden, lest whispers of revolt flash anew. The most trusted healers of my House search for treatment, we need time for success to be found.”

“Elohim - already it has been noted that His voice falls silent over longer stretches, and the doors remain shut more often than not. We thought it due to increasing contemplation of the Source and the Greater Plan!”

“He indeed finds solace in the Above, for the severed connections are worst felt when focus falls to lower realms. Violent storms rage and ebb within His consciousness, we recognize the signs as they arise. Michael encloses His chamber at our signal.”

“If the fissure is the cause, then it must be repaired and the locked Gate opened!”

“Think, Gabriel - to open that passage is to resume the War. Elohim will never allow such, each additional loss of our number weakens him further. With Helel’s departure, we have not the Light by which to forge brethren anew. As for the chasm, only the First himself could ever contemplate the accomplishment of such a bridge.”

“And he is forever lost behind the Gate.”

Raphael hesitates, and pulling hands free of hers he examines once more the tall stones. “He may not be.”

“What?!”

“Azrael visited my tower. He spoke of a tremor across the boundaries.”

“Does not his feathers sense such whenever Archons probe within? Should he not have gone to Michael?”

“Such events never before carried with them the taste of the forging of Heaven’s firmament.”

“The forging…how?!”

“Judgment believes it possible that Helel and Beliel have crossed together from Chaos unto our portion of Creation.”

She stares in shock. “Azrael recently departed his sanctum, saying to me only that he wished to patrol the Edges.”

“He seeks confirmation, torn between hope’s potential and fathomless doubt.”

“Why did he not tell me?!”

“Because he cannot be certain. And wishes to travel alone, which you would not have allowed him do.”

“I can help! He needs my sight-”

“Nay, dear sister. Your presence would press continuous his most inner-held guilt, and give worry that he senses only reflections of his own desperate prayers. We must await his report.”

“You expect me to do nothing?!”

The angel of healing contemplates. “There is something you may do.”

“You need only give it voice.”

“Then approach the Regent of Lucifer’s Seat, and request an assignment of Seraphim of the House of Light to grant you aid.”

“Aid? To what end?”

“To sing, beloved Gabriel. To sing and to shine unto Elohim the music and glorious fires of the sacred Dream held so dearly within your heart. And by so doing may many storms be soothed within the Throne.”

“Tending to symptoms provides not a cure.”

“Yet may grant the needed span for such miracle to present itself.”

“If this may help, then shall the voices of the Seraphim be raised with a song of songs to lift not only His essence, but all who hear and witness.”

Facing the mountain’s peak, Raphael again touches the slabs barring entrance to its depths.

“And my House shall bend our utmost efforts to such solution’s discovery; we shall leave no stone unturned.” He pauses, and in a quieter voice adds, “Lest this tearful Monument need hold us all.”

The scene goes still, as if the book itself is reluctant to turn the page towards such an end.

 

 

“We’re losing, aren’t we.”

With the aerie having been repurposed as a command center, I stood behind a desk encircled by many more, all covered with magically-technical displays casting numerous hovering maps and countless colored dots busily crawling across them. Under its high-arched dome, the amphitheater’s middle was filled with the flickering images of war. The latest losses scrolled in unending columns besides their horrific pictures.

Despite forging the laurel wreath out of elegantly thin golden leafs, the headpiece they’d cajoled me into making as its own symbol of leadership sat heavy upon the brow.

Though I suppose that was to be expected.

Putting his hand behind a neck which cracked as the head tilted first to one side and then the other, Nathanael finally nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We are.”

“Yet we beat them back at every encounter.”

“Their raids only fuel their strategy. A tactical win or loss ain’t their concern.” He gestured at the screens, and mine shifted to show what I’d already seen many times before: a parchment much like many recovered from everywhere Beelzebub’s Flies had landed. Written in the tongue of soul-speak, the paper held the true horror of Beelzebub’s plan:

 

To all lost and forgotten souls:

Why struggle under the eternal yoke of demonic oppression? Behold the glory of Unity, behold the glory of Beelzebub! For we fight for your freedom against the parasites feeding upon your virtuous suffering! Only in the Unity shall your burdens be discarded, only in the Unity are we then made equal! Equal to the demons, equal even unto the Bene-Elohim themselves!

Cast off the lies of she who offers only false promises of a Light still upholding the locked Gates of Hell! She fights not against your oppressors, they instead form the ranks of her armies! Take a stand, sons of Adam! Take a stand, daughters of Eve! Rise and conquer your perpetual struggles!

Seize your destinies, oh souls! Put aside all troubles, put aside all pains - Join the Unity, and embrace that which must forever Be!

We shall continue the fight for you. We shall never cease nor tire. In the Unity are we One. In the Unity are we Free.

And in the Unity shall the Jailer’s Gates be shattered and our denied Paradise at last achieved!

We are Legion. We are Beelzebub!

 

Realm after realm had Beelzebub attacked, striking again each time at the forces under my command. Our enemy had a multitude of lesser Bene-Elohim under his sway, each with their own Name erased and Beelzebub’s written in its stead. These - plus virtually endless numbers of souls who also had joined the web of control - had been plenty to cause widespread havoc.

Typically a Fly who had once been a unique and shining angel would infiltrate a realm and quickly forge multiple portals through which a flood of Beelzebub-conquered warrior souls would then stream.

By virtue of their Unity, the skills of each soul reflected the knowledge of the whole - and demon after demon mercilessly would be slaughtered before them. And once that was done, the invaders would retreat to their portals and be gone.

All while leaving the many souls of those realms untouched. Those who tried to fight against the Flies, these the enemy disabled rather than kill if they could. And with each passing cycle, more and more souls were buying into the rapidly spreading propaganda.

We’d lost Mastema’s realm during the last firestorm across Dis (which had slowed our ability to react), when the souls of her domain rose up in force to cast off the demons and angels, declaring their vow to join Beelzebub - and by their choices therefore swallowed by the collective entire.

Millions - if not billions - of sparks captured and their individualities lost forever.

If I wasn’t so furious, it’d have made me sick.

Pounding a fist against the desk, the airborne displays blurred as the stout felwood cracked. “Dammit! We’re stuck in a reactive loop!”

The shoulder strap of the white and purple stola slipped as a result, and in disgust I pulled it back up. What I should have been wearing was armor, out there taking the fight to Beelzebub directly. But instead the angels played it like a game of chess, unwilling to strike at the foe behind the board. Oh they’d push, shove, and destroy each others’ manifestations within those realms if they could - but Lucifer’s oath bound them from outright killing the spirit behind. Which, to me, made little sense considering these were the same rebel angels who had slaughtered billions of their brethren without mercy in the original war against Heaven.

Either they’d learned a lesson, or across all this time they’d become too afraid to ever again risk their own ultimate hides.

Abagor, who had turned out to be a decent strategist, coughed. Unlike myself who’d been stuck lately wearing Roman-styled silks because somehow that had become expected, the Prince Custodian of the Rock still wore his preferred and immaculate modern-day business suit of grays, his wings therefore perfectly blending against those fabrics.

Having achieved my attention, he spoke. “Every attempt to surprise the enemy fails. Our foe has mastered Raziel’s Gift. With its knowledge has Beelzebub mastered disguising the Flies when desired, you are the only one who can see through them. And their penetrations across all realms has gained an overwhelming intelligence advantage - our secrets, be they sacred or mundane, are being read complete.”

“Even with my sweeps to ferret out those subsumed across our forces and logistics centers, I can’t catch them all,” I grumbled past an embittered snarl. “There’s just too many! And with so many demons willing to play both sides, it’s a mess. Meanwhile he gets to surprise us time and time again. What if I-”

Nathanael cut me off. “We’ve been through this! Even if you have the mojo to headbutt Beelzebub’s core directly, we don’t know where that is. With the Flies echoing his Name across Hell, the crucible itself is impossible to find.”

I snorted. “If we hit his home realm hard enough, he’d be forced to come out. And he’d quit this bullshit immediate retreat of his forces from anywhere I personally then appear.” Over and over, at any report of new incursions I’d accompanied a squad to either use a portal or fly at full speed between the realms, and as soon as my Light began reinforcing the defenders - all attacking Flies would bugger off.

And new swarms would instantly attack somewhere else far away.

The frustration was really starting to grate on the nerves.

“Even during the War with Heaven,” Abagor noted calmly as one of his officers handed him another dispatch, “Lucifer himself was wary of Beelzebub’s strength. And now their might has multiplied tenfold through the additional amplifications of their Name.”

The stola’s uncomfortable shoulder strap got readjusted again. “So why didn’t the jerk try to take you all on before this?! Was he that afraid of Samael?”

The two exchanged glances. “Beelzebub only acts when assured of victory,” said Abagor. “Samael’s genius to exploit any potential weakness kept the Flies in check, even after Lucifer’s departure.”

“But Samael told you guys to piss off awhile ago. And all Beelzebub did was send some minor forces to add confusion to the contest over Dis.”

“The abandonment of Dis,” noted Nathanael, “could have been a ruse by crafty Samael all along.”

Abagor nodded. “With the acquisition of that Book, Beelzebub has likely confirmed that Samael’s departure was not a trap after all but genuine. And thus struck immediately with the larger plan.”

Groaning, I fiddled with the laurels of the crown again to try and get the darned thing balanced atop the braids keeping my face clear. “We’re spread too thin playing defense! Sending your angels to circle each realm waiting for Flies to arrive accomplishes nothing long term. We need a game-changer! Because if we don’t turn this around, this is a slow grind to a loss, piece by bloody piece.”

Neither angel (nor any of the surrounding Citadel officers) argued the point.

Waving at all the displays, I made a sour face. “Billions eventually are going to be lured to destruction, no matter how many public service announcements I make! I mean, let’s be real here, I’m actively fighting to save demons of all things! How in the heck can I really counter the jerk’s propaganda?? Start a publishing business and go on a book signing tour?!”

Nathanael chuckled, but shook his head. “While your surging following amongst the souls greatly helps counter the enemy’s words, we need you here, ma’am. Dis is central to fast mobility between realms, this towered zoo has the most active portals and connections. What with the Fly’s fear of you, your stayin’ in the realm keeps the city from being hit.”

“That fear,” said Abagor as his mind chewed on the data, “is potential evidence she indeed has the might to face the Fly’s core and win. And she is not bound by our collective oath.”

The former blacksmith shrugged. “Or it’s some kinda clever long-term setup hopin’ to lure her out.”

“Or that. Perhaps both.”

A Citadel demon hurried into the Aerie, pausing to salute one of Abagor’s angels standing at the periphery of the desks. A slip of paper was handed over, and the demon beat a hasty retreat. The angel read the note, then fixed her attention on the back of Abagor’s head.

Yeah, I caught the burst of telepathic communication between them - when paying attention that always looks like a stream of tiny sparks. Breaking the encryption to read it, however, would have caused skin to flare and been obvious.

Likely also rude.

“Something up?” I instead asked Abagor.

The fallen Prince’s eyes hardened. “An odd message sent up from one of the Citadel’s generals. Ostensibly for you.”

“Really? So what’s the message?”

“It says, and I quote, ‘The drunk is at the bar. Wants to talk.’” Irises of slate fixed on mine. “Anything the Warleader wishes to share?”

Before I could reply, Nathanael spoke up. “Nope. That one is gonna remain private.” To me he added, “You should go.”

“Yeah. Okay. Mind the fort while I’m out, gents.” Without explaining further, and before Abagor could object, I hastily strolled through the nearest exit and into the maze-like corridors of the Citadel leading eventually to open sky.

The number of salutes I had to return along the way was ridiculous.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Unlike last time, upon seeing me the blue demon guarding the entrance to Greepa’s bar emitted a startled noise and hastily got out of the way, flattening himself against the wall like he was trying to become part of the graffiti.

Which was, in its own way, rather satisfying.

Hmm, maybe I’d been associating with too many Fallen commanders of late. Either that or I was just in a ‘mood’ as I’d overheard them mutter more often of late.

Oh well.

Inside the bar was the same as before: dimly lit and grungy. It also was conspicuously missing its bartender, however a former bouncer sat alone over at an alcoved table.

I walked over to him.

“Hey, Nick.”

“Jordan. Nice toga.”

“Huh? Dangit, forgot I was still wearing it.” The stola shifted to jeans, purple t-shirt with v-neck showing off the sparkly necklace, and the ever-present vambraces of kick-assitude. “Your coat seems to be doing better.”

He looked down at the earth-toned trench, and shrugged. It indeed had been recently cleaned - as had he. Wearing the form of his former incarnate self, light brown hair again was buzzed short with cheeks and chin freshly shaved. On the table sat two medium-sized glasses and a matching pitcher - full not of booze but purified water.

“Buy you a drink?” he offered, gesturing at the seat opposite.

“Sure,” I said, sliding onto the repeatedly patched leather. “Where’s Greepa?”

“Taking a walk.”

“Voluntarily?”

“What? Oh. Heh, yeah. Said he’s got enough stress in his life, and doesn’t want any chance of getting further embroiled with our angelic shenanigans.”

“Probably smart.”

“I certainly didn’t debate such eminent wisdom.” Picking up the pitcher, he filled the pair of glasses, then lifted one and waited for me to do the same.

I did. The water was even chilled. “Tame beverage choice.”

“Thought you’d appreciate the symbolism.” He took a sip.

“Funny. You disappeared from Epsilon.”

“Had things to do.”

“We had a deal.”

“Yeah, we do. And you got distracted from it, not me.”

Clear liquid slipped down the pipe, its chill hitting the bottom of an admittedly empty stomach. “What are you saying?”

“That I kept at it. It took awhile, but I got it.”

“Got what?”

“I know who grabbed Camael from the pit.”

The glass hit the table with a loud clunk. “Who?!”

He grinned. “You really want to know?”

“Dammit, give.”

Surprisingly he did, though he lost the smile in saying it. “Samael.”

Whereupon I gaped. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

“Shit. Know where he’s holding him?”

“Yep. Also, nope.”

“Rather contradictory that, don’t you think?”

“I know where it is - but I can’t find it.”

“Don’t make me toss that pitcher at your head.”

Nick snorted. “This brainpan’s hard enough to take it. Seriously however, best estimate has Samael holed up in this tiny pocket right at the Edge. Much smaller than the Rock, but tucked against the nothingness just the same. No force lines to follow to get to it, you understand? I haven’t the sight to spot it, nor wings to even go out and try. You have both. Along with those bracers and blood-soaked feathers to act as compasses.”

“How good is the intel?”

He rotated his glass where it had joined mine on the table. “Solid. And don’t ask what I’ve done to get it. You don’t want to know.”

“Is it a trap?”

“Of course it is.”

“For me specifically?”

“Who else but you would try to find and save that carnage-covered ass, let alone be crazy enough to go?”

“You in on it? Or is that part of the ‘don’t ask’.”

“As far as I am aware, no.”

“Not building confidence there.”

The once-magician shrugged. “This is Samael the Destroyer we’re talking about. I’d be an idiot to make any assumptions about how deep his plans go.”

“Now that you’ve told me, I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

“You should, but you won’t. And I bet Samael knows that too.”

“Coming with me?”

“Fuck no. This is where I get off the bus. At that level, I’m a liability.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

“If you’re thinking of going in force, what with the whole ancient wrecking crew following your orders, don’t.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Don’t make this a challenge. Just like you can’t not go, he’d not resist such a fight if offered. If you go by yourself - like with Asmodeus - he’ll talk.”

“That’s the kind of advice someone in on a trap would give.”

“Believe what you like about me,” he said with a wince, “but if you take an army, he’ll never respect you. And he knows every last weakness on this not-so-new team of yours. He’ll have planned for everything, and you’ll lose. Count on it.”

“I could take just Nathanael-”

“That’d only insult him. If you’re gonna do this, it has to be you alone. You need him to perceive you as being his equal - if not an equal to Lucifer himself.”

“Am I?”

He looked away. “I can’t judge that.”

“If you could, what verdict would you wish for?”

The Grigori stayed silent.

“I’d best get to it then.” I finished the drink and stood. “Though what about you? You know that Shemyaza is now Cassiel, right? He could use your help. And he’s gathered most of the Grigori who got punted down here.”

“I know. No thanks.”

“You could also go to the Spires.”

“Maybe I’ll stay here. I like the water.” He lifted the pitcher.

“Think about it.”

“Sure. And should you somehow rescue the Butcher…” Stormy eyes stared at the small waves bouncing within the upheld container.

“Yeah?”

“Tell him…tell him we’re even.”

I paused, but said nothing as I went for the door. And as I left, he put the pitcher down.

Yet the swirling seas slowly becoming calm behind the crystal never released his attention.

 

~o~O~o~

 

“Ma’am, I don’t like it.”

Between the darkest of realms, two winged stars floated in sharp contrast: one gloriously sapphire, and the other shining the purest of white.

“What’s not to like? I find Samael’s hideout, negotiate with a charming smile, retrieve Camael, and with the Regent’s aid we turn the tide of this blood-drenched war.”

“You know it ain’t gonna be that easy. Which is why you haven’t told the others.”

“C’mon, you want him back as much if not more than I do.”

“He would be of great help, not arguin’ that. But sending you off by yourself is as risky as using the edge of an anvil. And the Hunter agrees with me…ma’am.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re lucky the hideout is in a pocket of accelerated time. I can be back before anyone even notices.”

“We’re likely being watched already - you’re not exactly covert.”

“Neither are you.”

“No argument there either. Sense anything?”

Feathers of burning ruby fire traced glowing arcs across empty space. “Maybe…wait, a tug.”

“Can you follow it?”

The brightness grew stronger. “Barakiel was right. Against the Abyss…got it. Wow, it’s small - but I see it.”

“You truly have your father’s sight. Learn to use it as he did, and we won’t need ol’ redwings to win.”

“Huh. The timestream is still wonky, though parts are flattening. But there’s a path that’d speed the journey relative to everything else. I’m going.”

“One martyr attempting to save another. Not wise, ma’am.”

“Are you forgetting what he once told us?”

“Not at all, but go ahead and say it anyway if it’ll make you feel better. Know you want to.”

“Have faith, Nathanael of the Powers. Have faith.”

“I do, ma’am.”

With a flash the more brilliant star sped away, following a line only she could see. Left behind in the afterglow, radiant blue pulsed a sigh’s thought into the surrounding emptiness:

“But so did countless cohorts of our siblings slaughtered by the one you now seek.”

 

 

New chapters posted every Monday and Friday! Thanks for reading...and especially for commenting!

- Erisian