Akting Out

DAY THREE: DAWN

For the first time since leaving home, Michael slept peacefully. Initially he was wary of falling asleep, fearful that his new visions would return, but after two days of non-stop fighting, exhaustion won out.

Asgard was as beautiful as Michael remembered. He had only seen the majestic city once, as a child, but it hadn’t changed a bit over time. The city was a glorious marble masterpiece with many structures that peaked out in golden domes that glowed as the sun’s light touched them. Michael imagined that the city appeared claustrophobic from above—he would have to check when he got his wings—as all of its dwellings and businesses were linked together. All of Asgard’s structures touched, save for the large black square that sat squarely in the middle of the city. Michael knew what that place was, and Nexus stone or not, the idea of training in that place frightened him.

As his feet touched the icy floor, grogginess was chased away, replaced by memories of the last twelve hours. When they had arrived, what remained of the Valkryie order stood in front of most of Asgard’s populace, and they were all lined up to see those who would save them. As one, they knelt and bowed their heads. The sound of armor plating striking the ground as the Valkrie knelt resonated through the city.

Although Michael knew it wasn’t for him or the others, it was hard not to feel awestruck as he passed into the royal courtyard. Yang and Odin led; Michael and Azrael followed with Raphael and Uriel trailing them. Neither Yang nor Odin seemed affected by the gesture. Cutler, the Seraphim leader, remained stoic and alert as he kept pace behind Uriel; he seemed almost fearful that the legendary battle commander might lash out.

Metatron, the Leader of the entire Holy Sefiroth army, seemed as though he had better things to do. At times it seemed as though he wanted to push through everyone else and get to where they were going, but he kept pace. The sheer presence the Angel carried was intimidating, as though he got what he wanted, regardless of any opposition. Michael wondered if they would spend any time learning from him.

Only he and Azrael seemed taken aback by the entire affair. The tension between the two of them was great, so they did not communicate. Though Azrael had tried to keep his head down, Michael had caught him stealing glances to the left and right every so often.

In the center of the courtyard, Yang had given a brief speech about how this was the last night this war would ever see. He had spoken with the skill of a seasoned leader, stating that not everyone would live to see the end, but if even one Angel, Valkryie, or Olympian was left standing, then Heaven lived on. It was meant to inspire hope, but some had been fighting for so long that they had lost all sense of the word. Michael wondered if Yang would’ve done better to defer to Odin.

Dinner had been a quiet, uncomfortable affair.

After that, Azrael had caught up to him. Michael had initially wanted nothing to do with him, since their last encounter had nearly left him dead. Azrael had revealed two things that echoed throughout the majestic corridor in which the two strode, Michael several steps ahead:  Azrael knew what Michael had seen in the void, and he also knew what fate awaited his mother. The latter stopped Michael cold.

Azrael had explained enough of what they had been through to assuage Michael’s anger. Although Azrael couldn’t divulge every detail of what happened to his mother, he had indicated that her final days would be spent in exile.

The two of them shared the burden of knowing how the war would play out. They had gleaned enough to know that it would take more than Yang’s plan to win, so Michael had sparred relentlessly with Azrael until the sun rose. It was Azrael’s idea; the two needed to know each other’s fighting styles.

Michael had dreamt of his mother, and was still thinking of her as the dream faded.

Michael was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of the heavy wooden door to his bedroom opening. Surprised, he raised his head. Michael recognized Cutler, the Seraphim Leader, as the Angel leaned into Michael’s room.

“Did I wake you?”

Michael shook his head, getting to his feet. “No, I’ve been awake for a moment.”

Cutler nodded, opening the door as he stepped into the room and slowly closed the door behind him. Cutler’s expression was worried as he looked at Michael, who became apprehensive. “What is it?” Michael asked.

“It’s begun,” Cutler exhaled. “Olymparus was attacked last night. Prisoners were taken…Your father led the charge.”

Cold panic seized Michael at the pit of his stomach as he slowly got to his feet. “Does Azrael know?” His voice almost failed him, and he croaked the words.

“No, and neither do you,” Cutler said flatly, shaking his head. “His Highness wants this kept secret until we can confirm survivors.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Michael shot back.

“Because your mother is alone on the outskirts of Yevon,” Cutler retorted, quickly closing the distance between the two of them. “I think your father is going after our families, and I’m going to relocate them here, where it’s safe.”

A million thoughts flashed through Michael’s imagination, and none of them were good. Slowly, he shook his head. “Dad wouldn’t go after mom.”

Cutler scowled, and Michael didn’t believe it himself. “Your mother won’t trust me if I go there alone,” Cutler said evenly. “Come with me. We’ll bring her here, and we’ll keep her safe.”

Michael hesitated. “You have my word,” Cutler said, reading his expression.

Michael looked to the left, out of the open, parallelogram-shaped window. They couldn’t be caught; it would be looked upon as desertion. He still didn’t want to believe that his father would actually hurt his mother, they had been a happy family, but…

That was a long time ago.

Michael looked at Cutler. “Can you fly?”

Cutler smirked. “Faster than Apollo runs.”

Michael walked towards the window, stepping up on the ledge and leaning over. Vertigo nearly set in; they had to be a thousand feet up. A few Asgardians were already up, casually soaring through the air beneath him as they went about their business. Michael drew his head inside, almost nauseated by the dizzying height. “You don’t have your wings yet, do you?” Cutler chuckled.

Michael looked back at him contemptuously. “No, but you do,” he replied. “So let’s go get my mom.”
**********

Yang was a little heartbroken as he and Odin descended on the capital city. Yevon had once boasted the highest and most thriving population in Heaven, and time there was usually spent preparing for a celebration. The city was all but deserted now, save for the small army that had gathered about the castle. A gaping hole in the western half of the roof was an unwelcome reminder of the war, scarring the otherwise beautiful castle.

He and Odin descended on the westernmost citadel, which had been converted into a lookout post. It was now manned by four of the Holy Sefiroth and three Valkryie; more than enough to repel any unwelcome advances from the air. Word had spread that Metatron had come home, and the mood was tense, but optimistic.

Yang and Odin alighted at the center of the citadel and were saluted appropriately by the Sefiroth and the Valkryie, who stood with their feet together as they struck their chests audibly with the top of their fists. It was a tradition Zeus had begun, and Odin maintained.

Yang led the way as the two moved to the eastern citadel, crossing over a worn stone archway. The archway beneath them led to the entrance of the castle and was high enough to allow for those traveling on horseback. In happier times, those who trained unicorns dazzled audiences with near misses and loops around the archway at incredible speed. Yang longed for those times.

The top of the archway was manned by ten Valkryie and eight Sefiroth; Odin had surmised that the castle’s entrances would come under the most attack. Odin paused at one of his Valkryie, and Yang watched as he smiled genuinely at the frightened young girl, taking hold of her shoulder and shaking firmly. Odin glanced at Yang as they continued on. “It’s her first assignment.”

“Break them in quick, don’t you?” Yang joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The harder the fight, the better the experience,” Odin quickly returned. “This will be good for them.”

Yang hoped he would never understand Odin’s passion for battle. He wondered what Odin would do if this war was won.

From the equally well-armed eastern citadel, Yang and Odin descended in silence to the castle keep, bypassing the throne room. Here, Valkryie and Sefiroth exchanged weapons and stories. Upon seeing Yang and Odin, they saluted, and the two gods returned their salutes without stopping. It was here the forces were most heavily gathered; this part of the castle needed the strongest defense. Here, deep in the bowels of the capitol city, was what Yin sought; this was where the combined might of the Sefiroth and the Valkryie could not fail.

It was also why Yang and Odin had risked a daylight flight: so the lord of Asgard could see for himself.

The keep itself had been used for storage; there wasn’t much need for light. The room was relatively small; square pillars that reached from the floor to the low ceiling were adorned with torches that jutted from small steel posts, giving the room a bronze hue and just enough light to be manageable. The entirety of the keep spanned the length of the castle, so nearly a thousand Valkryie and Sefiroth fit comfortably down here.

If the absolute worst happened, their orders were to collapse the roof, destroying the castle and sealing everyone inside forever. In a testament to their bravery, even knowing this, everyone present had volunteered for the assignment.

Yin could not be allowed to reach the caverns. It was that simple.

Heading straight to the rear of the keep brought Yang and Odin to a pair of heavy wooden double-doors that were guarded by two of the highest-ranking Valkryie in the Order. They didn’t move, holding their spears at the ready as Yang and Odin approached.

“I want to see the caverns,” Odin said in a low tone as they grew closer. Behind them, the two armies murmured inquiringly, wondering why Yang and Odin were present.

The Valkryie shot their eyes towards Yang, who nodded. Only under circumstances such as these would the Valkryie confirm an order from their lord. They turned, each placing an armored hand on the circular handle of each door and pulling. The doors slowly opened.

The keep was immediately flooded by a pulsating, whitish-green light that faded as quickly as it had appeared; centuries of being stored away had built up a tremendous burst of energy. Yang and Odin had been expecting it; neither of them flinched. As they entered the caverns, the Valkryie sealed them in.

Where the brick ground of the keep had been steady, the caverns were soft and earthy, as though it had just rained. The stone that formed like lava twisted and turned over itself, pulsating with a lime green aura. It was as though the caves had been formed in madness, and Yang and Odin were not welcome. In every direction ahead of them, a path led to pitch blackness, and the aura hummed as though warning them not to step further.

Yang had been here before; Odin hadn’t. The mighty god of Asgard clutched his stomach, suddenly resting his hand on Yang’s shoulder. His knees buckled. “Yang…” He struggled. “What is happening to me?”

Yang gently reached for Odin and hoisted him up. “Relax, my friend. We’ll be out of here soon. But you wanted to see this.”

Odin breathed rapidly as he took in the monstrosity of the Nexus Caverns. “So this is where you took the stone from?”

Yang nodded. “Yes.” He pointed ahead, to the path directly ahead of them that led into the unknown, “And if you follow that path into the darkness, you’ll find the resting place of our father.”

Odin stared in the direction Yang pointed. “So…it is here that Amen sleeps.”

“Until judgment day.”

Odin turned to look Yang squarely in the eye. “We have no more time for second-guessing,” Odin whispered, as though anyone else could hear them. “Do you really believe that your sister would be bold enough to try to kill Amen?”

Yang slowly shook his head. “I don’t believe it. I know it.” He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “We’re twins, remember? I’m in her head…just like she is in mine.”

“Then what makes you think the nexus stone will work?” Odin challenged.

“I don’t,” Yang confessed. Odin’s mouth opened in surprise, but Yang continued, “I know that this war has to end, and it has to end now, old friend. Yin has sent far too many emissaries to the Pangaean world. If there is to be any hope for those people, then we must put a stop to her now.”

Odin was moved; it wasn’t often that Yang spoke with such conviction. “You must have a lot of faith in humans.”

Yang smiled, nodding. “You know what I’ve been through, Odin. You’ll see it too, eventually.”

Odin cocked his head, smiling. “Maybe, maybe not.” His smile faded as he continued, “It’s one thing to sacrifice yourself when you know what’s waiting for you. Are you willing to take a life to save the humans? To save all of us?”

Yang blanched. He stopped breathing; he knew exactly what Odin was asking. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“You’ve seen what you wanted,” Yang finally spoke. “We should return to Asgard.”

Odin nodded, still staring at Yang. “Yes, we should.”

And so the two departed, the unanswered question lingering between them.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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