Akting Out

The following is an excerpt from the upcoming novel “Universal Warrior: Atherean Defenders”.
In the previous Chapter “Red Morning”, four children are murdered while playing in Heaven’s largest body of water. Seven days later, their hometown of Jordan is still trying to come to terms with everything. Jayden Zeneca, the brother of the victims, has been staying with the St. Morias family after his own family’s dark history has finally come to light. The morning of the funeral, Uriel St. Morias, Jayden’s longtime friend, enters his room to ensure that Jayden is okay. But Jayden is far from okay, and needs to get something off of his chest…

Read the first Chapter “Red Morning” to catch up on what’s been going on as the first war between Heaven and Hell begins.

From Chapter 2: The Wounded “Jayden’s Confession”

“Jayden?” Uriel said softly after knocking yielded no answer. He cracked the door open marginally, peering inside to see Jayden standing by the window, straightening the shoulder wrap on his vestment.
“Jayden?” Uriel persisted, stepping halfway inside, “Can I come in?”
Jayden chuckled, closing his eyes. “No, Uriel, but please feel free to stand there and continue letting the draft in.”
Uriel smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “At least you got your sense of humor. Maybe one day, you’ll even find someone who thinks you’re funny.” Uriel commented.
“Maybe one day you’ll find the intelligence to keep up with me.” Jayden retorted, bracing himself on his elbow and smiling. “Why don’t you make yourself useful; help me straighten this damned thing…”
Still smiling, Uriel strode up to Jayden and took the long, smooth cloth that extended from the shoulder of the robe. It was cool to the touch, like new, slightly electric silk. He tossed one end of the wrap around Jayden’s shoulder, catching it with his free hand. He repeated the process twice more before neatly creasing the wrap in three places, and then stepping away.
Jayden looked down, admiring, and nodded his head. “Not bad. You should think about being a seamstress.”
Uriel scowled. “You should learn how to dress yourself.”
Jayden laughed, but it only lasted a moment. He took a seat on the bed, bracing himself on his palms, lowering his head. He was silent, but had begun shaking.
After a moment, Uriel sat down, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulder and gripping firmly. “I’m sorry for what happened, Jayden. I’m sorry we weren’t out there–”
“No.” Jayden snapped, removing Uriel’s arm and rising. He whirled, looking down at Uriel and pointing sharply, “No, Uriel. Don’t you dare wish for that. If you had been out there your mom and dad would be burying you right alongside Bethany. Don’t wish that on them.”
Uriel leaned back, shaking his head. “That’s not…I mean, that’s not what I meant…”
Jayden had all but sequestered himself in the spare room Reginald and Dayna had afforded him; Uriel hadn’t seen much of him, and his father had convinced him to let Jayden deal with things on his own. Seeing Jayden now, quivering, eyes bloodshot, the rage threatening to burst from him, Uriel was no longer certain that his father had been right.
Jayden must’ve realized the look he had been giving Uriel, because he slowly lowered his finger, placed his hands on his hips, and turned away. “I’m…I’m sorry, Uriel. It’s just that…your mom and dad? They’re very good Angels. Nothing bad should ever happen to good Angels. Nothing bad should ever happen to anyone good.”
Uriel said nothing.
“That’s why we’re still alive.” Jayden whispered, more to himself than Uriel.
Uriel leaned forward. “What? What did you say?”
After a second, Jayden shook his head. “Nothing. But listen.” He whirled on Uriel, the fierceness back in his eyes, but the rage gone. He sat down beside Uriel and looked him square in the eye. “Uriel, listen, can I trust you?”
Unsure of what else to do, frightened of what might happen if he answered wrong, Uriel quickly nodded. “Yeah, sure, Jayden, of course.”
Jayden shook his head. “I’m not going to let this go unpunished, Uriel.” He grit his teeth. “I swear to Amen, Uriel, I don’t care what happens to me. I’m not going to let this go without fighting back.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Uriel frowned. “…what do you mean? What’re you talking about…?”
“Those things killed my brothers, my sister…if Yang wants to sit high on his throne and pretend that nothing’s wrong, that’s fine, that’s his right. But my family died out there, not his! And if he won’t do anything about this, then I will!”
Uriel didn’t know what to think or say. He had never seen this side of Jayden before.
Jayden looked away, visibly shaking.
“I’ve seen these things, Uriel.” Jayden whispered, his voice cracking.
Uriel raised his eyebrows. “You what?”
Jayden seemed to shrink into a ball, tucking his mouth to his fist.
“I’ve seen these things, Uriel.” He repeated surreptitiously. “I know what they look like.”
He closed his eyes, shaking his head, losing a desperate battle to keep the tears at bay. “But I thought they’d be gone by now. It was years ago.”
Uriel realized that he had stopped breathing, and inhaled hard. If what Jayden was saying was true…
“I tried to say something.” Jayden continued, his voice rising, quivering, his mind no longer able to hold back the emotion, “but dad didn’t listen. He thought I was making things up and trying to get out of my chores.”
A cold darkness overtook Jayden as he looked straight ahead. “Things got bad that night.”
Uriel finally found his voice. “When did this happen?”
“Four years ago.” Jayden replied immediately.
He turned quickly, looking at Uriel with hope so desperate it bordered on madness.
“But Uriel, I’m gonna make them pay. Someone taught me how to–”
He was suddenly interrupted by the door opening; Dayna partially entered the room.
“Oh, didn’t realize you two were talking…” She stepped all the way inside. “Uriel, hurry up and get dressed. We have to be at the church soon.”
Uriel quickly nodded his head, bouncing from the bed. He seemed happy for the excuse to get away. “Okay, mom.” He sprinted from the room, flying past his mother, who was pleasantly surprised; Uriel usually balked at the idea of dressing up.
Dayna turned to Jayden. “Are you alright?”
Jayden nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Dayna cocked her head, smiling wryly. “Are you sure?”
Exhaling, Jayden rose. “I’m alright, Dayna, I promise. Alright as I can be, anyway.”
Dayna’s smile became genuine, and she nodded. “You know that Uriel, Reginald, and I will be there for you all today, right?” She chuckled. “I don’t know if you saw it, but it looks like half of Heaven is supporting you right now.”
Jayden smiled, and Dayna was pleased to see that he wasn’t feigning. “I know, Dayna. I’ll be okay.”
Dayna observed him for a moment more; he looked stronger now than he had all week. She then turned and headed for the door.
“Dayna?” Jayden called after her.
She turned, looking back at him from the door.
“I never did thank you and Reginald for letting me stay here…after everything. I really do appreciate it.”
Dayna grinned, re-entering the room. She strode up to Jayden and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as a mother protecting her child. After a second, Jayden reached up, holding her laying his head down on her shoulders. She wondered when anyone had shown Jayden any affection.
“You,” She began, her voice unshakably strong, “are always welcome in our home.”
Still keeping his head on her shoulder, Jayden quickly nodded. Dayna slowly pulled away; Jayden was too overcome by emotion to speak, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.
“Come on,” She whispered, “We should get to church.”
“Okay.” Jayden replied.
With that, Dayna turned and exited the room.
Jayden collapsed to his knees, clutching his forearm. He struggled, fighting to control his breathing, regulate the heated oxygen that stretched and compressed his lungs. His heart beat like rapid drumming; it felt as though it would explode out of his throat.
He glowered at his right forearm, his fingers rebelling against him as he forced his fist open. He could feel it; raw power, like millions of flickering flames, coursing through his arm. They were already manifesting; he could hear the bandages that concealed his arm hissing as they burned, his power coming to life against his will.
He closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, remembering what he had been taught….
Control, control…
He had nearly lost his temper, not at Uriel, but the idea that no formal action had been taken against those who’d slaughtered his family…
No. Why he was losing his temper didn’t matter; all that mattered was that he couldn’t. This power was intended for one very specific purpose, and if left unchecked, the destruction would only begin with the St. Morias home. They did not deserve that.
As though he was pulling his hand from cool water, the prickling sensation in his arm receded. Daring to breathe again, Jayden opened his eyes. His fingers loosened, blood began to flow freely again.
He rose. Yes, this power was intended for one very specific purpose, and very soon, those that deserved it would be visited upon. For now, it was time to say goodbye.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

Day Two: Dawn

Uriel had traveled straight through the night, racing across the desert sands at more than one hundred miles per hour, kicking up high twin trails of sand in his wake. Black Night had allowed him to travel unseen, and he had followed Jeremiah’s directions to the location of a newly-constructed, underground mirror. Uriel was haunted by the knowledge that there were many others scattered throughout Heaven, but that wasn’t his problem. Rahab was.

Upon arriving at the location, marked by a poorly constructed wooden cross, Uriel leapt into the air and thrust himself downward, arms outstretched as he braced for impact. Jeremiah had been truthful, and an inch of sand gave way to shattering glass as Uriel plummeted directly through the frameless mirror. It was not a random act that he had broken the mirror; never again would a demon use this mirror to cross over. Uriel repressed his growing fear that he would never be returning home.

As always, the thick, sulfuric stench was the first indication that he had reached his destination. Uriel felt claustrophobic as he passed through a dark, twisting cavern comprised of cooled lava rock before emerging into Hell’s ceiling—directly above the Lake of Fire.

He was no longer flying; he was falling, headed for the dead-center of the Lake.

Not a problem, he thought. I’ve been here before…

It was nearly four miles from the ceiling to the lake; Uriel had plenty of time to figure something out.
The humidity was acidic, stinging his exposed body as he fell. The ceiling was not a smooth surface; over the centuries, magma spewed from one of the regions many volcanoes had cooled into long stalagmites that hung from the ceiling. Some of them were almost a mile long, others curved into each other and hung like frozen vines suspended between two trees.

Uriel’s rate of descent increased, and the rapidly-passing humidity started to feel like he was passing through a sheet of hornets. His eyes darted across the sky, assessing and dismissing possible formations to grab onto—a long, hanging U-shaped formation caught his eye, just off to his right. It would hurt, but if he timed it right, he may have been able to reach out and—.

As he rocketed past it, Uriel reached for the hanging rock and grunted as he strained the muscles in his shoulder to their very limits. His shoulder muscles felt like they were set ablaze as they were nearly torn in two, but Uriel maintained his grip. He swung his left arm up to the rock and pulled himself up, slinging his leg over the formation and lying down on his stomach.

He was about a mile from the lake; close enough to see methane-produced flames pierce its surface and burst, releasing that horrible odor, and certainly close enough to hear the endless screams of the newly damned. There were thousands of them; for what few moments they were allowed to breach the surface, they reached up helplessly, eyes bright orange as the fire burned them out, their open mouths producing purple and orange flames as they were consumed from within. Their injuries healed almost as fast as they were created, thus perpetuating the endless cycle that was their existence until the end of time. After a few moments of begging for a reprieve, the roiling magma would send a wave over them, and they would vanish from sight. Others simply passed out, going momentarily lifeless and drifting helplessly beneath the surface. It was the only reprieve they would ever be allowed; within minutes, they would be conscious again.

The first time Uriel had seen this, he had been sick for a week. This was the tenth time he’d seen it, and he felt neither nausea nor pity. Everyone was responsible for their own destiny…and his led to Rahab.
He was surveying the lake, trying to figure out the next move when it was decided for him; a gigantic white stingray-like creature, easily thirty feet across and sporting three elongated, spear-tipped tails, pierced the surface of the lake, rising high before splashing back into the burning liquid. It landed with such force that the magma was thrown high enough to singe Uriel’s already tattered pants. It moved through the lake with unnatural speed, darting and curving effortlessly as the newly damned desperately attempted to get out of its path. Their efforts were futile; the stingray opened its massive jaws, swallowing nearly ten at a time. The sound of its teeth grinding bone into dust was loud enough to be heard for miles, and the crunching made Uriel shudder. He was unable to take his eyes from the spectacle; he had never seen anything like this before.

It wasn’t a hunt; it was a slaughter. The stingray would effortlessly dive beneath the magma and be gone for up to a minute at the time. The damned would pause, looking around frantically, hoping that they were safe from being eaten – even burning from within was better than that. As their screams began anew, the Lake consuming their flesh, the stingray would resurface, tearing some of them in half before tearing across the magma, trapping anything in its path.

Uriel shuddered; he had never seen a demon like this. It was clearly at home in the Lake, meaning that it was either born here, or had been here long enough to curry Yin’s favor. The latter could take centuries. Also, there was something familiar about this demon’s tactics; leading the victims to think they were safe, and then attacking just when the Lake would start taking effect again, ensuring their pain would be at its worst. It was almost as though…it was a game.

Uriel’s mind raced back to That Day, when he had been responsible for twenty-seven of the three-hundred and thirty seven lives lost. Rahab had appeared as a being of rotten water that day, imprisoning those children and forcing Uriel to choose the method of their death. Their feud was legendary; it had begun when they were both mortals, and their hatred for each other had transcended death to continue on in the afterlife. In each of their encounters, there had always been some sort of interruption; something that always kept one from delivering the fatal blow. It was as though fate itself conspired to keep them fighting forever.

Before the Slaughter, before Black Night, Uriel had hoped the matter resolved. During the skirmish that destroyed the heavenly city of Yethra, Uriel bound the demon in chains and cast him directly into the Lake of Fire. Yet, somehow, in his soul, Uriel knew that Rahab would find a way back.
His mind snapped back to the present even as the stingray surfaced and the feeding frenzy renewed;
Rahab was native to water, and as he had evolved—or devolved, it seemed –he’d learned to manipulate all liquid. So much time in the Lake of Fire; it was possible Rahab had taken a form that allowed him to survive there.

Uriel cursed under his breath; that meant he was responsible for Rahab’s latest…change.

I should have killed you long ago…

The thought involuntarily escaped Uriel’s mind as he found himself growing angry.

The stingray disappeared beneath the magma again—and stayed gone. The rampage had done little to deplete the number of damned. Uriel wondered if the creature was passing them just as quickly as it consumed them. As the damned began their hopeless screaming all over again, the creature did not resurface. The game appeared to be over.

Enthusiastic, happy, high-pitched chattering could be heard from the torched, barren shores far off to the right. Uriel adjusted himself to see; in the distance, there was a host of imps leaping up and down merrily, wary of the magma as they applauded. Dramatically, his arms outstretched as though he brought the light of the world with him, Rahab slowly emerged from the water in humanoid form, brightly glowing orange as though the Lake fueled him. Upon his arrival, the imps whooped themselves into a frenzy as if welcoming their hero. Rahab bowed, savoring every moment.

“My friends, my friends,” Rahab began, raising his head once again. The imps continued to cheer, and Rahab mocked humility, gesturing for them to quiet down. “I so hope you enjoyed today’s show. I also hope that your final memory in this life stays with you through recycling…”

Rahab trailed off as the imps slowly calmed down, realizing the implication of his words.  Just before they could turn and run, Rahab leapt into them like a lion into sheep. The cheers turned to screams of horror and pain as Rahab was able to grab up to three of them at a time and ruthlessly, gleefully sink his teeth into whatever flesh was closest. Imps, the lowest of Hell’s creatures, struggled in vain to escape, only to meet the same fate as the newly damned.

Uriel couldn’t help but pity the little bastards. He’d seen enough.

Uriel reached to the small of his back and pulled the two pieces of gunnery, remembering Sira’s instructions:  point the long end at your target and squeeze the trigger. Group your spears at the center of your target.

Replacing one of the gunnery at the small of his back, Uriel clenched his right hand and was pleased to feel his arm warm up as it began to glow.

Uriel stood up and faced the shore. Rahab’s frenzy had come to its conclusion, and he was surrounded by the twitching remnants of the imps.

“RAHAB!!!”

Rahab whipped, placing his hands over his eyes and squinting. “Uriel? Is that you? Here?!”

Uriel exhaled. Rahab sped into the magma as if racing to meet an old friend. “Stay there! I’ll come to you!”

Placing his arms out front, Rahab dove into the Lake and vanished.

Summoning fire to both of his hands, Uriel relaxed and waited. For a moment, Hell was deathly still.

Rahab—again as a gigantic stingray—burst through the surface of the Lake directly beneath Uriel, who could make out a wide jaw with millions of needlelike teeth. The stingray bellowed a screeching cry as it rose hungrily towards Uriel.

Uriel placed his palms inches away from each other, quickly creating a ball of fire between his hands. Clutching the fireball in his right hand, Uriel hurled it down towards the oncoming demon. The fireball caught Rahab squarely in the mouth. Rahab exhaled a wisp of smoke, making an odd sound that almost sounded like pain. He fell, lifelessly, back onto the lake. The landing was so forceful that Uriel fought to keep his balance, even as magma was fired into the air, singing his ankles. Uriel braced himself on the treacherous rock formation he was perched on and watched as Rahab slowly fell beneath the surface of the lake.

Seconds later, the demon exploded from the surface, flying at double speed, mouth agape as it came for Uriel. “Did I fool you?” Rahab spoke into Uriel’s mind, “Did you think that was it? Really, fire, Uriel? Did you forget where you are?”

Not at all. Uriel allowed himself to feel proud as he reached to his back and drew forth the gunnery. As he pointed it towards the oncoming stingray, Uriel tried not to smile as he felt Rahab’s confusion enter his mind. Simultaneously, Uriel squeezed the triggers to both weapons, his arms jerking as the weapons kicked back in his hands.

The two tiny spears tore through Rahab’s flesh just beside his face, and black blood burst forth from the wounds. When the demon screamed this time, it was genuine.

Uriel squeezed the weapons three more times as Rahab flailed helplessly, falling back into the lake. Six spears shredded Rahab’s flesh, nearly tearing his right wing off as he crashed back into the lake. He flailed, screaming, refusing to submit to the magma as it dragged him under. It was almost vindicating as Uriel raised the gunnery, aiming it at his ancient enemy one last time.

“Choose.” Uriel Reached coldly into Rahab’s mind, but only felt pain, confusion, and anger. Through his rage, Rahab responded. “What the hell does that mean?!”

“I’ll give you the same choice you gave me at Eden, you sick bastard.” Uriel seethed telepathically, “A quick death by my hand…or a slow one in the lake.”

“FUCK YOU!!” Rahab bellowed into Uriel’s mind as magma poured into his injuries.

Uriel grit his teeth. “So be it. I gave you a choice.”
Uriel squeezed the triggers repeatedly, the weapons kicking in his hands until they had run dry. Tiny arrows jettisoned from the weapons, each one hitting their mark and tearing through Rahab. The final two arrows struck the demon’s black eyes, which bubbled and exploded like heated tar. The demon ceased its screeching as it finally passed beneath the lake.

Uriel Reached downward, but could sense nothing. No repressed rage, no anything. All traces of Rahab had vanished.

Uriel’s shoulders sagged and he enjoyed his first moment of total relaxation since this entire ordeal had gotten started. At long last, after centuries of endless conflict, Rahab was –.

Uriel…that hurt…

Uriel’s stomach tightened as he shot a look back to the magma, which was virtually still. The damned had begun surfacing again, but they were so few that their screams didn’t travel. Uriel looked back to the gunnery, trying to remember Sira’s instructions on re-arming.

First step; release the empty cartridges. A toggle switch placed at the left of each weapon allowed the gunnery to release the spent cartridges. Uriel fumbled a bit, pushing the switches down in a quarter-circle motion. The cartridges fell out of the bottom of the weapons, falling against the rock before tumbling down into the lake.

A colossal magma wave fired up out of the lake, arcing to the right towards Uriel’s perch. The wave would easily reach him, and was hot enough to melt the rock—and anything on it.

Uriel had one option. Turning away from the wave, he jumped off of the rock. As he began to fall, he heard the wave crash onto the rock, hissing as his former perch was destroyed.

He was falling like a stone, the humidity like ticks tearing away at his flesh. Uriel kept his head; reaching into his pockets and pulling forth one full cartridge—it was all he had time for, and allowed the other weapon to fall into the Lake. It was instantly consumed in a burst of fire and disappeared on the surface. Uriel used the palm of his hand and shoved the cartridge into the bottom of the gunnery. Something within the weapon clicked, registering that it was ready for action.

Nearly torn in two, blind, gravely injured, Rahab burst forth from the magma, its jaw ready to catch its prey. “You don’t know how to kill me, Uriel,” Rahab growled telepathically, the playful tone gone. Uriel pushed away his fear; either the teeth or the lake would get him, but in seconds, he’d be dead. The most he could hope for was to take Rahab with him. Aiming at the demon’s throat, Uriel took careful aim. “You talk too much, Rahab–.”

Uriel suddenly and unexpectedly felt himself snatched from the air, something holding him by his armpits and throwing his aim off. His arrow went high and wide, disappearing into the distance. Angrily, Uriel looked up and saw a Valkryie in full battle regalia. Her mask was pulled down over her face, and the crimson shining-star-shaped jewel at the center of her breastplate marked her as a Captain. She flew effortlessly towards the shores where the dead imps lay, and let Uriel fall to the ground. He landed solidly on his feet, watching the Valkryie land a few feet ahead of him, her back to him.

“At least turn and face me, Sira,” Uriel said darkly.

The Valkryie complied, turning and touching her mask with the palm of her hand. The mask automatically receded to the top of her head, inside her helmet.  “Uriel,” she acknowledged him, attempting to avoid a confrontation. “I figured you would be a little more–.”

“Why are you here?” He demanded, cutting her off.

Sira’s slight smile disappeared, along with any pretense of being polite. “By order of His Royal Highness Yang, seconded by my Lord Odin…” She began, her voice trailing off as hesitance became apparent. Uriel’s irritated confusion turned into hurt and anger at the betrayal. Sira drew the sword at her hip and pointed the apex towards Uriel. “You are under arrest, Uriel.”

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

Day One: Night
“No moon out tonight.” Sira whispered.

Uriel was so engrossed in monitoring the Seraphim inside that he hadn’t noticed the sun set. “What?”

Sira looked at him and gave a sly smile. “No moon.” She repeated. “It’s a good omen.”

Uriel looked up to the night sky. Not one star was present, and the sky was an eerie, black canvas. Uriel looked back at Sira and realized he could barely make her out, save for her predatory green eyes, eager for what was coming. Uriel remembered his days in the Holy Sefiroth; soldiers often referred to nights like this one as “Black Nights”. Black Nights were somber events, during which the Sefiroth predicted that skirmishes would be particularly bloody, and that an unusually large number of lives would be lost. It was a prediction reinforced by fact; soldiers who went out on Black Night didn’t often come home.

Valkryies, most of whom had been Sefiroth before Odin chose them, saw Black Night differently. They saw the starless night as a chance to fight an epic battle; a chance to affect history. This was why Sira had been chosen; it was never the victory she enjoyed, it was the battle and the chance to make a difference.

Uriel remembered thinking that the first was an admirable trait, but the other would probably get her killed. Instead, she had become a Valkryie. Looking at Sira’s penetrating emerald eyes, Uriel spoke in a low growl. “I guess the things we do should never see the light, should they?”

He couldn’t be sure in Black Night, but he imagined that Sira grinned.
“Have you got my back?” She asked, peering inside to the seven Seraphim and captive family.

Uriel cracked his knuckles, looked at her, and nodded his head. “I’m ready…Go.”

Sira pivoted and became more than a black specter in the night as she stepped into the cabin; the candlelight danced across her black armor. The loose metal that protected her feet clanked as she stepped onto the hardwood floor. Uriel peered in to watch the event unfold.

The Seraphim and the family – a man, woman, girl and boy – became aware of her. The Seraphim rose and faced her, their shock turning to aggression. A flash of fear shot through Uriel. Valkryie or not, seven Seraphim is a lot to ask of anyone…

For a moment, Uriel thought about rushing in, but his military training kicked in: he would not deviate from the plan.

The Seraphim reached—for their hips?! As though trapped in slow motion, Sira reached her right hand towards the captive, bewildered family. “LOOK AWAY!!!” She shouted.

It was a gamble; the Seraphim could have taken the hint not meant for them. Uriel knew what was coming. He could only cross his fingers as he threw himself away from the door, moving into a squat position and covering his lowered head with his hands.

The sound of thunder being drawn across the sky joined with the pained, terrified screams of the Seraphim. The light was so bright that Uriel could feel it pressing into the back of his head. He closed in on himself, pressing his head to his knees and clenching his eyes shut. The light encompassed him along with the entire cabin. For moments, the Black Night was overtaken by Sira’s Light Nova.

Uriel forced his eyes open. He had missed the worst of it. Although he still couldn’t see clearly through the white haze, he knew his vision would be better than the incapacitated Seraphim. Scrambling to his feet, Uriel turned back to the door and rushed into the cabin.

He first noted Sira, laying unconscious on the floor to his left. The Seraphim were still standing, but they were completely incapacitated. They were writhing on their feet, their hands pressed to their eyes as they rocked back and forth in complete blindness, begging for mercy.

“MY EYES! MY EYES! MY–” Uriel flew towards the first Seraphim and connected a solid right hook with the boy’s jaw. The boy spun once before swaying like a buoy on the sea, then collapsed to the ground. Uriel turned, driving his elbow into the back of another Seraphim’s neck; that one instantly fell to the ground. He took the third Seraphim and grabbed him by the robe to hoist him up. The Seraphim was in such agony already that he either didn’t feel Uriel, or didn’t care that he was being lifted. Uriel bashed his own head into the nose of the Seraphim, and let the officer drop to the floor. Uriel grabbed the fourth officer by his arm and removed his left hand from his eye. It appeared that the boy’s pupils had been obliterated. Uriel struck the boy with a chopping blow where the neck met the shoulder. The boy immediately became silent and fell. The fifth Seraphim nearly fell into Uriel’s arms in blind panic. Uriel crouched so the boy’s midsection was at eye level and struck him so fiercely that his fist nearly went through the officer’s stomach. As the air ripped from his lungs, the boy clasped his stomach, unable to scream as he fell to his knees. He collapsed onto the floor. The sixth of the Seraphim was a pretty young blond who cried as she screamed, completely lost in terror as she heard her comrades being struck down. Uriel took hold of her, wrapping his arm around her neck and placing his hand at the back of her head. He pressed her head against his forearm and tightened, giving her head a slight jerk to the left. Because her brain had been so suddenly deprived of oxygen, she would wake with a migraine, but at least she’d wake up.

Something stabbed Uriel in the left of his abdomen and just below his shoulder, and his body jerked with the impact as he grunted. He would’ve thought himself shot by arrows, but he had been hit with arrows before; these were smaller and their impact was more forceful. He looked down to see his injuries, which had begun bleeding. There was no twang to indicate a bow had been fired. Whatever had shot him had gone straight through.
Uriel looked up. The last of the Seraphim—their leader, he guessed, due to the extra red stripes along the shoulders and arms of his robe, used one arm to cover his eyes. With his free hand, he was pointing something at Uriel, a black ivory object Uriel had never seen before. Something tore through his upper right shoulder, and Uriel realized as blood gushed through the new wound that the weapon was soundless.

Uriel forced himself to stay silent. The Seraphim was firing blindly; that was Uriel’s only advantage. Uriel took a hard step to the left. The leader bought the bluff and trained his weapon towards Uriel’s feint. With the weapon off of him, Uriel quickly took a wide, silent step to the right and dashed in a curving pattern toward the boy. Uriel grabbed the arm that held the weapon by the wrist. Locking the arm out straight, Uriel threw his forearm into the back of the leader’s elbow. The boy screamed as the weapon fell from his grasp. Uriel took him by his robe, spun around once, and then with everything he had, hurled the leader upward. The impact of the boy hitting the ceiling was enough to shake the cabin. As the leader of the Seraphim fell, he groaned, and Uriel caught him, turned, pivoting, and hurled the boy into the cabin floor. The boy landed with such force that his legs flew into the air, but when they fell, he became silent.

With the Seraphim out of the way, Uriel staggered, reeling from blood loss as he clutched his worst injury at the top of his shoulder. Seven Seraphim. Not bad for an old man…
Uriel exaggerated and he knew it: he wasn’t old, just worn out…but he needed to hang in for just a little longer. Just long enough to make them answer for Eden…he made his way to the weapon that had struck him three times and stooped to pick it up. The family was still huddled in the far right corner of the room, and Uriel could hear the little girl whimpering. She was whimpering, doing her best to stay silent. Uriel wanted to say something reassuring, but words failed him. Dealing with these people was better left to the Thanatonians or Valkryies anyway.

Uriel examined the weapon curiously. It was mostly white with black splashes, and almost weightless in his hand. The weapon was almost an L shape, but the shorter end—the end the Seraphim had been holding—was bent at a slight angle away from the longer end, which was about two hundred centimeters long. The weapon had moving parts, both of which were metal; there was a curved, steel insert on the underside of the long end, and when Uriel gripped the handle, he saw that his index finger fit comfortably around this curve. What is this thing?!

“Uriel…” Sira spoke weakly as she regained consciousness. She was looking up at Uriel fearfully. “Uriel…you need to give me that.”
Uriel looked at her, unsure of what to think. Still holding the handle of the weapon, he pointed it at her for her to take, but Sira immediately cowered, holding her hands up protectively. “Not like that!” She said hurriedly. “Take…the long end…and give it to me by the end you are holding.” She said it as if their lives depended on it. Uriel was suddenly aware of his injuries again.

He did as she told him. Sira took it cautiously, getting to her feet as she slid the weapon into the rear of her armor.

“What is that?” Uriel inquired.

Sira looked at him uncertainly, but he persisted. “Sira, you need to tell me what that is.”
“I can’t.” Sira finally replied, regretfully. “It’s–”
“If you say ‘private’ I swear by Yang I will knock you out.” Uriel growled. Sira looked up at Uriel, who took a step toward her. “That thing just shot me. So whatever it is, I want to know about it, and I want to know right now, or you and I will have a very serious problem.”

For a moment, Sira seemed to question whether or not she could deal with Uriel as an adversary. Reason won out, and she exhaled. “We call it … gunnery.” She explained as though being broken after a long interrogation. “We—the Valkryies—started developing them after what happened in Eden.”

Uriel raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Go on.”

“Think about it, Uriel – a weapon where all you have to do is point and pull. The days of drawing back, straining yourself to hit your target? They’re done. And the miniature arrows we use for projectiles travel almost fifty times faster—and farther—than anything thrown.”

Uriel nodded. “I see. But that doesn’t explain how the Seraphim got them.”

“I know.” Sira spat, frustrated. “Gunnery is still a very private project, Uriel. Only a few of us in the order know. Not even Lord Odin knows.”

Uriel looked away, fear creeping up in the pit of his stomach. “Have many of these have you produced?”

“One hundred and seventy-four.”

Uriel’s fear rose as he whipped back to look at Sira, who returned the look with knowing regret.

“Uriel…” Sira said slowly, “This one? The one you gave me?” She shook her head. “We didn’t produce this model. All of our gunnery is white.”

Uriel cursed under his breath. Secret weapons, powerful enough to injure Yang himself, in the hands of these damn children…
“Then where did they get these?” Uriel asked.

“We made them.”
Both Uriel and Sira turned to face the man who had answered their question, the head of the family. Flanked by his family, they had come out of the corner and now stood in the center of the room. The daughter, youngest, held her mother tightly, her arms wrapped around her waist. Everyone else looked as though they were trying to be brave.

Uriel stepped forward as it to accuse, but Sira held up a hand to stop him. “Who are you?” She asked gently.
“My name is Jeremiah.” The man introduced himself, “This is my wife, Alia, and my children, Matthew and Kala. We made that thing—and many more like it—at the request of those people.”

Sira nodded. “How did you come to be here?”

The woman, Alia, shook her head. “We were traveling…the barbarians ambushed us. Our men went to fight them off, but during the battle, there was an avalanche…when we woke up, we were here.”

Uriel exhaled, remembering his own violent passing from Earth to Heaven. This family had passed easier than he had. “And these people,” Sira continued, “They were waiting for you?”

Jeremiah nodded quickly, eager for his story to be told. “We woke up here, in the desert, and they picked us up. They asked my name. When I told them, they demanded I build these…these things for them.”

“And you were able to?” Sira asked.

“Yes.” Jeremiah nodded.

Sira and Uriel exchanged concerned looks. “Jeremiah, tell me.” Sira inquired pleasantly, “What was your occupation before you—back home?”

“I was a blacksmith.” Jeremiah hesitated. “…You’re a Valkryie, aren’t you?”

Sira was surprised. She nodded. The entire family seemed to grow eager. “Are you here to take us to Heaven?”

Both Sira and Uriel were speechless. “We worship lord Yang, ma’am.” Alia said solemnly, “That’s why we agreed to do this; they told us that it was Yang’s order. We knew they were lying when they began to hurt our children.”

Uriel clenched his fists. “The Thanatonians need to be notified,” Uriel Reached to Sira. Her thoughts came back immediately, just as angry. “No,” She mentally spoke to Uriel. “I’ll take them myself.”

Uriel sorted through the new information in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. The Seraphim had found a way to intervene in the passing cycle, and recover the dead before the Thanatonians were aware of them. To compound matters, the Seraphim seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the happenings in the mortal world, as they were able to select those that were suited to help them achieve their goals.

To make things worse, someone had leaked the methods of gunnery manufacturing to them. They were planning something big.
Uriel looked at Sira and realized that she was drawing the same conclusions. She quickly shook her head; this was not to be discussed in front of strangers. The fact that an Asgardian—maybe even one of the Valkryie—was in league with the Seraphim…it was an almost unstoppable combination.

“Who is Rahab?” The little girl asked suddenly.
Uriel snapped to attention, looking at the girl. “What?” He asked quickly, before Sira could stop him.
“The bad people,” She said softly, “They said Rahab was angry. They said he was going to kill everyone unless he got what they promised him.”

Uriel lost his temper. “I KNEW IT!” He bellowed, stomping away. He hoisted one of the unconscious off of the ground, screaming into his face. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?! WHAT YOU’VE SET INTO MOTION?! YOU LET THAT THING RUN LOOSE?! YOU MADE ME–”

Uriel shook the boy, who gave no response. He punched the boy once across the face. “YOU RUINED MY LIFE! DAMN YOU! YOU MADE ME KILL ALL OF THOSE CHILDREN! YOU MADE ME KILL THOSE CHILDREN!”

He struck the boy, over and over again, until his face was reduced to a bloody mess. Finally, Sira body-tackled him, knocking him away from the boy’s body. As she sat up, she saw that Uriel was sobbing uncontrollably beneath her.

“They made me do it,” He said, over and over again. “They made me kill them, they made me do it. I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t, but they made me…”

Sira gulped away pangs of sympathy for Uriel. “What did they do to you?”

When Uriel next opened his eyes, they were crimson. Rage had taken over. He nearly threw Sira off of him as he rose. “The gunnery,” He seethed. “Give it to me.”
Sira stared up at him. Uriel looked at her as if he’d kill her to get it. “Give it to me, NOW.”

Fearful of what he would do if she didn’t comply, Sira reached to the small of her back, pulling forth the weapon so she could hand it to Uriel properly. For a moment, he stared at her accusingly, and then made his way to the other Seraphim. Without hesitation, he rifled through the robes of the fallen officers and collected seven more weapons. That’s why they went for their hips, they were going for these damn things.
Sliding them into his waistline, he glowered at Sira.

“You take them to Asgard,” Uriel ordered. “They’ve earned it.”

“What’re you going to do?” She inquired worriedly.

“There’s got to be a mirror not far from here.” He replied. “I’m going to find Rahab, and he’s going to confess to me what he did.”

Sira was about to ask if Uriel knew what he was about to do, but she remembered that he was now Heaven’s most wanted fugitive, and he was being hunted by the very people that put him in this position. He had no way out.

She nodded. “Good luck,” she managed.
Uriel didn’t reply. He quickly stepped outside, and the sound of a sandstorm was heard as Uriel lowered into a glide and disappeared from view.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

Day One: Mid-Day

Tired and sweating, with his hands wrapped in cloth torn from his robe, Uriel knelt before the mirror, which now lay frameless, flat on the ground. As he lowered himself, he fired his right fist into the mirror’s center. The glass immediately fractured, spiderwebbing into many fragments and revealing the sand floor.

It had taken nearly four hours to complete the task. Uriel rose and allowed himself a deep breath and the satisfaction of a job well done.
The destruction of a mirror was a painstaking process. Uriel’s experience had taught him that if it was done wrong, the consequences were disastrous. Everyone present at the destruction of the first mirror had learned the first and most important rule; never shatter the glass first.

Had the frame been smaller, Uriel could’ve done the job bare-handedly. Since this mirror was exponentially larger than any he had seen before it, he had been forced to scour Rendam for tools. Upon finding some, he had torn apart the frame piece by piece, cutting up his hands in the process.

It appeared that the old man slain by the Seraphim was the last resident of Rendam. There was an invisible, but almost tangible, sense of anger that permeated Uriel’s being as he journeyed throughout the town in search of equipment, but not another living soul. Uriel remembered that after the mountain’s first eruption, the few survivors had refused to abandon their city. Instead, they became the first line of defense should the mountain explode again. It was a duty they took seriously, all the way to their graves.

What the mountain had begun with the town’s populace, the Seraphim had finished. Uriel took a little comfort in knowing that he had at least avenged the senseless death of the man who had been kind to him.
He was surprised that the Seraphim hadn’t sent anyone to check on their comrade. Uriel knew he had been lucky before, catching the one off-guard. He wasn’t about to take his chances with a unit, especially if they were ready for him. If they were coming, he needed to be somewhere else. There was nothing left for him in Rendam, anyway—or anywhere else. Between the Holy Sefiroth and the Seraphim, it was just a matter of time until he was caught.

If he chose to run.

Standing in the center of a ghost town, Uriel made a fateful decision.

The Nexus Stone plan was a joke; if Yang succeeded, he’d be creating something far more powerful, and likely far worse, than the Seraphim. Uriel wouldn’t be party to that. He was just a soldier; he cleaned up the mess without contributing to it.
Fugitive or not, he had come into extremely privileged information; the Seraphim, touted as the finest Heaven had to offer, were importing demons and killing them. It may have seemed like a good idea in theory, but there had to be more to it than that. Yin wouldn’t willingly sacrifice so many of her own, not unless…

Unless she was testing the Seraphim.

Pushing back demonic incursions was outside of the Seraphim duties. They just policed the angels. Still, they were more powerful than any four members of the Holy Sefiroth. Yin could rightfully construe them as a threat, and if she did, when she learned what they were capable of…

She’d send something through no one could deal with.

The pieces began to fall into place even as Uriel picked up two pieces of ruined bronze, summoning energy from within his being and superheating his hands. Within seconds, the bronze lip up with the same orange hue as the sun.

Uriel dropped to his knees as his mind continued to work. There was more to it than that. Yin should never have been made aware that the Seraphim existed. Now that she did, who was to say the inexperienced Seraphim had killed every demon they imported?

Horror shot through Uriel with the force of an arrow through the gut. He remembered seeing the Seraphim working with the imps in the construction of the mirror he had just taken down. Those imps had gotten away. Who knew where they were now…

He silently cursed himself for allowing their escape. Angrily, he struck the heated bronze together, and their tips exploded in an array of brightly-colored orange sparks before erupting into flames. Holding the bronze together, Uriel lowered the pieces to the sand, which caught fire and roared.
As the supernatural fire came to life before him, a haunting question resonated through Uriel’s mind.

What if Yin knew about the Nexus Stone plan?

She might throw all of Hell their way to keep the stone intact, and with the Holy Sefiroth depleted and reeling from the slaughter at Eden, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.
Uriel looked to the fire. “Fire,” he spoke mentally, “I must confer with you.”
Aside from the quieted crackling, and the gentle swaying of the flames in the wind, there was no response. Uriel frowned. Fire was eternally angry, unmerciful, and destructive. Sometimes, it needed to be coaxed.
“FIRE.” Uriel roared telepathically, “YOUR MASTER SUMMONS YOU.”
“Hmph” came a darkly-voiced, subdued reply as the fire seemed to die off a bit, “My master. You presume much, Uriel.”
“I am your Regent.” Uriel shot back. “You are mine to do with as I see fit, as governed by Lord Yang our god. Away with your resistance, before I throw a well onto you.”
To fire, the threat of water was the equivalent of throwing salt on a snail. There were much less painful ways to die. Most fire just preferred suffocation when the end came.
“What do you want?” The fire demanded, beaten.
“My injuries.” Uriel replied. “Heal them, and then I have another task for you.”

The fire did not respond, but Uriel felt the effects almost immediately. The heat, just enough to be uncomfortable, focused on his stab wound first. Uriel grit his teeth as he felt the wound cauterize, sealing up at last.

The cloths on his hands slowly grew flames as small fires slowly drew from the outside of his palms inward, working along the cuts he had sustained. Within seconds, his hands were like new, and the ashes of the cloth Uriel had ripped from his robe dropped to the ground.
“What else can I do for you, my Regent?” Fire spoke the last words with the disdain that came from being controlled by a cruel master. Uriel had to remind himself that fire was always this testy.
“Extend your presence,” Uriel commanded, “So I may Reach without detection.”

Again, there was no response in his mind, but the fire suddenly shot into the air, swirling and roaring angrily. If any Angel or Demon attempted to use their inherent telepathic link, Uriel’s presence would be cloaked by the fire. This also allowed him to see all of Heaven without being keyed by the Seraphim, who were surely looking for him.

Uriel closed his eyes. His subconscious was instantly swept over the length and breadth of Heaven, and as usual, Uriel had to fight not to be overcome by sadness. Racing over the surface with the speed of sound, Uriel was reminded that not all of Heaven was barren wasteland. Once, lush greenery bearing every fruit and vegetable imaginable weaved its way through the many cities of Heaven, which sprawled out so greatly that they were nearly connected.

Most of these cities were now as silent as the grave, and just as lifeless. Over three million lives had been lost since the start of the war. Most of the cities now stood empty, dilapidated, and crumbling, huge towers falling over each other. Of the three major cities—Yethra, Yevah, and Yevon—only the Kingdom Capitol still stood. Angels had begun moving closer to the Kingdom, hoping that being nearer the Holy Sefiroth would ensure their safety. Uriel had heard rumors that the Capitol building had recently been attacked–

There.

Roughly two hundred miles southeast…not too far from Beal City, Uriel keyed to the presence of nine (ten?) extraordinarily powerful, but young energies.  These were energies that felt as if, when combined, they could tear Heaven in two. They could only be the Seraphim.
They surrounded four subdued energy pulses that Uriel couldn’t categorize. It was almost as though the energy was dormant—unaware of its own power. This was usually found in a newborn, but the anger and confusion that accompanied these energies made them mature. Uriel scowled. Not angelic, nor demonic, which only left….

Uriel’s eyes snapped open in terror. BY YANG!!! WHAT WERE THE SERAPHIM DOING?!!
At the last moment, Uriel looked in the direction where had felt the curious energy. A resoundingly powerful single energy, on par with the Seraphim, had just arrived not far from where Uriel was reaching. This energy, powerful, focused, and very much in control, was unmistakable; Valkryie.

And Uriel believed that he knew exactly why she was there. She’d have her hands full with ten Seraphim.

Uriel turned back to the fire and spoke rapidly. “Where I was Reaching…take me there!”

Uriel stepped into the swirling column and closed his eyes. He felt the flames close around him harmlessly, and then all was black.

Uriel opened his eyes not far from the rear of a small wooden cabin as the heat quickly receded from his body. The cabin was plain, but to the immediate right hung a vertical flag bearing the cross and lion insignia of the Seraphim. He had reached an outpost.

Offhand, Uriel could see no one, but he knew from Reaching that the post was very much occupied. He moved silently along the sand until he reached the rear of the cabin. He pressed his back against the cool wood and quietly crept along to its left side, where peering around the corner revealed a young man aimlessly rounding the corner and coming towards him–

Uriel quickly ducked back behind the wall. Again, he cursed. That was careless. He may have been lucky; the boy hadn’t increased his pace or called out for help. Uriel hadn’t been seen. He exhaled, relieved, as he heard the footsteps in the sand grow distant.

A figure landed directly in front of him, barely making a sound. Startled, Uriel instinctively reached for the figure, prepared to do whatever he had to in order to keep his presence a secret.
The figure he nearly attacked was dressed in the polished back armor of the Valkryie order, minus the headdress. As with all the Valkryies, she was strikingly beautiful, neck-length brown hair, sun-tanned skin and penetrating green eyes. She looked to Uriel and gave the slightest of smiles.

“Uriel.” She whispered, completely unconcerned. “It’s good to see you.”
Uriel extended his hand, and she grasped his wrist, greeting him formally. “Sira.” He said softly. “Odin must be serious if he sent you.”

“Indeed,” She said, taking a position on the wall beside him, “But I’m curious; why did he send me here instead of Purgatory, where the dead usually go first?”
“The Seraphim interrupted the cycle.” Uriel growled. “They must’ve gotten them before Gabriel knew that they had died. It’s probable that they don’t even know what’s going on.”

“Ah.” Sira replied. “Is that why you’re here? Or is it about your…recent troubles?”

“Little bit of both.”

Uriel looked back to her. “You worry about your dead. I’ll worry about the Seraphim.”

“Ever the maverick.” Sira chuckled. “There are seven of them, big boy, not ten. Fire doesn’t do as good a job of covering your Reach as you’d like it to. You might want to train that a bit more.”

Uriel shook his head but stayed silent. She would be insufferable if she weren’t right. That was probably why, after centuries of service in the Holy Sefiroth, Odin chose her for the Valkryie Order. Uriel had been sorry to see her go.

“We have two patrolling the grounds, five inside watching the dead. None of them know we’re here.” Sira explained quietly. “You take out the one on the left, I’ll take the one on the right, and we’ll meet at the door. I’ll lead in with a Blind attack, but you’ll have to disable them while I recover.”
Uriel nodded. “Alright.”

He was moving away, preparing to round the corner when Sira called out to him one more time. Uriel turned back to her.

“It really is good to see you again.”

Uriel nodded, but didn’t smile. He didn’t want to lose his mindset.
Peering around the corner yet again revealed that the Seraphim had chosen to take a break, whistling aimlessly and leaning against the wall, his back to Uriel. Uriel, hunched, silently approached the boy, who couldn’t have been more oblivious. Uriel reached up behind the boy’s left side and grabbed him by the face, wrapping his entire hand over the boy’s eyes and mouth. As the boy attempted a muffled scream, Uriel yanked him backwards, jerking his head to the side to reveal his neck and shoulder. Uriel delivered a swift chop to the area where the neck met the shoulder, and the boy immediately went limp beneath Uriel’s grip. Uriel gently lowered him to the ground. The boy would be sore when he woke up, but at least he would wake up.

As Uriel crept around the corner, he could hear voices from inside the open cabin. Some of the voices pleaded; what sounded like children, asking if they could ‘go home’. This seemed to annoy the Seraphim, who were trying to enjoy a game. They would be allowed to leave when ‘the work was done’.

Sira came around the corner opposite of the door and nodded to Uriel, who returned it. They had both done their jobs.
A girl cried. A Seraphim bellowed at her to be silent. There was a slapping sound.
An angry man seemed to turn into a bear, roaring presumably at the Seraphim. Four blows landed, then silence. The Seraphim promised no more pain if they were patient. The boy spoke as if he did not enjoy what he was going, but Uriel recognized the sadistic undertone in his voice. He enjoyed causing pain.
The rage in Sira’s emerald eyes mirrored Uriel’s own. They moved to stand on opposite sides of the door. Uriel, as quietly as he could, released a deep breath. There were five of the most powerful soldiers Heaven had ever produced inside, they were enjoying the power, and they wanted Uriel dead. This would not be easy by any means.

Suddenly Uriel snickered, remembering the many instances he had been here before. Chances were that either he or Sira would be dead within the next few minutes.

Uriel was through running. If he was going to die, he would die as a soldier.

“Ready?” Sira was locked onto him, speaking telepathically. Uriel nodded, smiling, shaking out his hands. “Yeah.”

He braced himself against the wall.

“After you.”

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

It had been a restless night; Uriel’s dreams had been the stuff of nightmares, eternally evading the self-righteous Seraphim.

In his dreams, the Seraphim finally caught him. They had laid their hands upon his waist, shaking gently. The force of the motion had been enough to jolt Uriel from his sleep. When the hands on his side proved to be real, Uriel lashed out, clutching someone’s wrist and yanking downwards.

An old man cried out in surprise, and lost his balance, falling onto the bed and bracing himself on his hands. He groaned in pain, clutching his hip as he tried to get to his feet. Uriel realized he had nearly assaulted the man who had given him shelter, and relaxed his grip.

”By Yang…” Uriel exhaled. He quickly got up, throwing off the woolen blanket. Standing behind the portly old man, Uriel took a gentle, but firm hold of his shoulders and helped him from the bed. The old man hopped gingerly on his left foot, refusing to set his right one to the ground for a moment. Uriel helped him maintain his balance as the old man slowly moved his hand and set his foot down.

”I’m sorry,” Uriel spoke softly, “I didn’t—“

The old man spun quickly, and Uriel’s surprise at the man’s agility was quickly replaced by a sense of dread. The somberness with which the man spoke his words was matched by the fearful intensity of his fading blue eyes.

”Uriel, you must leave this place.”

A thousand questions flooded Uriel’s mind as the old man quickly turned him around and hobbled behind, pushing him out of the room. Uriel passed the open window of the bedroom just before the man shoved him past it. It was just past dawn, the sky a pleasant shade of orange as the sun began to make its presence known. The faint sound of hammering metal on metal was heard outside, from the ground below. Uriel managed to steal a quick glance, and could’ve sworn…

No…no, it couldn’t be…

Just before he exited the room, Uriel had seen a host of small, winged black beasts working together. Their wings beat like hummingbirds as they flew, some of them working to hoist a large piece of reflective glass into the air as their comrades began to nail it inside of a large, brass frame.

As odd as this seemed, this was not was caught Uriel’s attention.

What caused him to take pause was the young man, in an unblemished white robe, emblazoned with the red x-style cross their lord Yang had sacrificed his mortal life on. This was the robe of a Seraphim officer.

As Uriel tried to sort through the questions in his mind, the old man spoke behind him, almost throwing him down the worn wooden staircase. “Please forgive me, my lord,” He said, genuine sadness in his voice, “This is not what I wanted…not all of us agree with the way you have been treated since…Eden…”

Why is a Seraphim aiding in the construction of a mirror?!

That was the first solid question to form in Uriel’s mind. He tried to turn back towards the old man as they reached the first floor of the old cabin, but the old man would have none of it. “What’s going on, old man?” Uriel tried. As they reached the large front room, Uriel stepped away from the man and turned to face him. “What. Is going. On?” Uriel said firmly. “Why is a Seraphim officer working with the other side?”

”That,” A young, authoritative voice spoke from the doorway off to his left, “is none of your affair, Uriel.”

Uriel turned to the Seraphim. Under normal circumstances, this boy wasn’t old enough to have wings, much less wield the power he did. The old man seemed to shrink in the presence of the officer. Uriel noticed that the Seraphim was alone.

“Are you going to invite your friends in?” Uriel spoke, challenging. The seraphim scowled. “I know not what you mean, sir.”

Uriel nodded his head towards the Seraphim, turning to face him fully. “Don’t play dumb with me, boy. You’re not smart enough for it. I mean the imps you had with you; the ones who were helping you construct that thing?”

Neither the Seraphim nor the old man said anything.

“I’m pretty certain they still send you straight to Hell for treason,” Uriel growled, “It should be much easier to conspire with the enemy—once you’re burning right alongside them.”

”You aren’t fit to speak to me of treason, old man. You know nothing of what is to happen here. My orders come from within the council of Yang himself.”

”That’s a lie.” The retort was almost involuntary. Uriel just knew that it couldn’t be true; no one Yang trusted would ever allow a portal between worlds to be constructed in one of Heaven’s few remaining cities. Especially this city.

”Is it.” The Seraphim’s return was equally confident, and Raphael was surprised that the boy believed what he was saying.

”It…is the truth.”
Uriel whirled around, surprised that the old man had said anything. Uriel’s mouth fell open. “…what?”

The old man looked first to the Seraphim, and then to Uriel. “The Seraphim…have executive permission to be here.”

The Seraphim exhaled as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Well, I’m happy that could be resolved without bloodshed.” He looked to Uriel, gesturing for him to follow. “Now, Uriel, I must ask you to come with me. I will escort you back to the palace, where you may answer for your crimes against Heaven,” The Seraphim smiled in a chilling fashion, “where I am more than certain they still send you straight to Hell.”

Uriel suddenly didn’t like his options. There was no way he was going anywhere alone with the Seraphim; he’d never be heard from again, until the sands washed away to reveal his crystallized corpse.

But…he couldn’t leave the city to whatever the Seraphim were planning—and he wasn’t sure if he could stand up to one of their officers.

As if finalizing his last thought, Uriel felt a twinge of pain emanate through from the stab wound, which had yet to heal.

Uriel clenched his right fist. The time had passed long ago when he still had a choice.

”No.” He spoke plainly.

The Seraphim was incredulous.

“Excuse me?”

”I’m not going anywhere with you.” Uriel grumbled, tensing, bracing for the inevitable, “And I don’t care what permission you think you have from the royal council. You have no permission from me.”

The Seraphim turned, looking darkly to Uriel as he faced him fully. “Your decision, Uriel.”

Uriel had just begun to raise his hands when the Seraphim moved with an impossible speed. He seemed to meld with the wind, and was in  front of Uriel before the veteran angel had a chance to blink. Before Uriel could mount a defense, the Seraphim thrust a fist squarely into his injury. Uriel opened his mouth but was unable to scream as blood gushed freely from his wound. Pain flooded his entire body, and he felt his muscles ache, tensing as he was sent flying backwards, towards the wall.

Uriel’s eyes were closed as he tried to block out the pain; he hadn’t seen the Seraphim move. He only felt a solid blow lodge once, twice at the base of his spine, and Uriel was splayed backwards, his neck snapping back. He was momentarily unable to feel his legs as agony cut the feeling from his spine in half.

He still couldn’t see the Seraphim. He only felt the heel of the young man’s boot strike solidly into his ribcage, just above his knife wound. Uriel was sent flying across the room, smashing through a table and rolling before coming to a stop, face-down on the hardwood floor.

Uriel was able to move the fingers on his right hand. Breathing was an effort; he couldn’t inhale too much without pressing against his ribs. The kick might have cracked one.

When Uriel looked up, he could see the old man through waves of nausea and discomfort. He was the portrait of a man defeated; shoulders slumped, head down, nodding as the Seraphim spoke something to him that Uriel couldn’t hear.

”Why…” Uriel forced, although it felt like something was trying to beat its way out of his chest, “Why are you doing this…why here?”

The Seraphim looked to Uriel as though he was a stubborn insect. He exhaled pitifully, strolling towards the fallen angel. “I know you’ve given a lot for Heaven, Uriel.” The seraphim spoke, “And I know you didn’t do what they say you did.”

The Seraphim squatted before Uriel, who saw genuine remorse in the face of the Seraphim. The boy shook his head. “It’s just that…your time has passed, old man. I mean, you did the best you could, and look what has happened. The land is dying, Satan has been killed, and Lucifer has become our enemy.”

The Seraphim pointed an accusing finger towards Uriel. “All of this…on your watch.”

The Seraphim rose. “Our order was created to ensure not just the safety and survival of Heaven, but also it’s purity.”

”And you’ll do that,” Uriel managed, “By infesting our land with the fallen?”

”Of course not. Don’t you see?”
The Seraphim pointed back towards the mirror. “When they come through, we will annihilate them.”

Uriel frowned. The Seraphim saw it and continued. “When the demons come through, we, the Seraphim, will be waiting for them, and we will slaughter every last one of them. We have mirrors set up in other villages in Heaven, with Seraphim guarding them as well. We expect to have Yin’s forces decimated inside of a week.”

Again, the Seraphim squatted, speaking in a hushed tone that only the two of them could hear. “So you see, old man, we have no need for you or…” he reached into Uriel’s robe and pulled out the invitation. Scoffiing at the parchment, he carelessly tossed it aside. “…this. The Nexus Stone need not be shattered, and no more rogues need to be created.”

”And what happens,” Came the voice of the old man, “When Yin becomes wise to your plan and sends forth demons that the Seraphim cannot hold off?”

Taken by surprise, the Seraphim turned back to the old man. “Yin can throw nothing at us we haven’t already seen.”

Uriel looked up to the boy. “That’s what we thought…at Eden.”

The Seraphim was glowering to Uriel when the old man continued. “This is not something the people want.” He said with conviction, “and your shortsightedness will lead to the death of us all.”

The Seraphim raised his hand, firing a bolt of white energy that struck the old man cleanly in his chest. The bolt almost immediately turned him into crystal, and his body shattered as it struck the far wall.

A small blue orb rose from the remains. Almost aimlessly, it drifted outside and into the sky.

Uriel had seen enough.
He reached out, snatching the Seraphim by his ankle. He brought the officer to the ground with a single jerking motion, and the boy landed hard, arms ahead of him.

Uriel clutched the boy’s legs and began pulling him closer. The boy turned around, aiming another killing hand towards Uriel’s face. Uriel reached up and grabbed the boy’s fist. In a show of sheer strength, Uriel clenched so tightly around the boy’s hand that he was able to intertwine his own fingers. Uriel nearly closed his fist around the boy’s hand, snapping each one of his fingers.

In the moment the boy screamed, clutching his ruined hand, Uriel scrambled up, wrapping his arm around the officer’s neck, constricting as he brought his other hand to the back of the boy’s head.

He’s just a boy…
As the Seraphim weakly struggled, unable to speak and fighting for air, Uriel fought against his own conscience. The boy wasn’t much older than some of the residents at Eden.
And he murdered a man…in cold blood.

”Does it…” the Seraphim finally managed, “Does this…get any easier?”
A quiet rage quickly enveloped Uriel. With one final tensing of his arm and a quick, final motion with his hand, the Seraphim was no more.

Uriel closed his eyes as the crystallizing process began, soft flesh becoming hard glass beneath his grasp. He didn’t want to see it happening.

When the process was finished, he let the crystal statue fall to the ground.

”No,” Uriel answered softly, “it doesn’t.”

The pain wasn’t so bad now; Uriel rose to his feet, trying to make sense of everything that had just occurred. He had come to this place looking for lodging before continuing to Asgard…and stumbled across something horrific.

The Seraphim were working to bring demons into Heaven. Uriel thought darkly to himself; this was what happened when you gave power to those who had no idea what to do with it.

Uriel walked over to the invitation, stooping to pick it up. There were no second thoughts. He tore the parchment in half and let it drop.

He headed for the door with the intention of destroying the mirror. When that was finished, he was going to get some answers.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

Fighting through the pain of the knife wound in his left side, Uriel forced himself to his feet. He quickly oriented himself. The battle was still raging outside the cave.

Gritting his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the pain, Uriel removed the six-inch blade from his side and let it fall beside the dead, three-armed demon that had put it in him.

Placing his hand to his side, he leaned against the crimson rock of the cave wall to stay on his feet. Concentrating, he heated his hand until the skin beneath his palm began to sizzle and burn.
Uriel screamed.

The bleeding stopped.
He exhaled rapidly, as the pain faded. He needed to get back out there. The children. What about the children?

He quickly turned around and was relieved to see the thirty-some-odd children he had rescued and secured here before the battle became too intense. They all cowered at the rear of the cave, looking to Uriel as though he had become a threat. They huddled together, some of them crying silently.

A blast of fire impacted above the mouth of the cave, causing the kids to scream suddenly in terror. Uriel flinched, quickly looking back to the battle outside. A Dorager, massive and winged, screeched a terrifying cry of hunger as it flew by, too large to enter the cave. Uriel almost cussed; it knows we’re here.

He looked back to the children. “Stay here.” He instructed, “Be quiet.”
The kids didn’t answer, but the fear in their eyes was enough. Uriel, who stood at just under seven feet, ducked to exit the cave.

He had seconds to survey the battlefield; Odin’s Valkyrie Order had arrived, but their presence wasn’t doing much to turn the tide. The Valkyrie were effective against demons they had encountered before. These mammoth beasts, all instinct, no intelligence, and at least fifteen in number, were new. Some of them had been brought down, but not nearly enough to offset the tide; their roars shook the land of Eden, and they easily bent and swooped to pick up and devour everything they came across. Children ran, screamed, hid, and died; the young adults fought valiantly and died, those who had come to their defense did their best, and died. Formerly green grass was now soaked red, and crystallized corpses of the dead lay as far as the eye could see.

As long as someone was still alive, Uriel would hold ground here. He looked up to acknowledge the descending shriek of the returning Dorager. As he did, it opened its colossal jaws.
Standing at the opening of the cave, Uriel crossed his arms before his face protectively.

The fire hit him with the force of a heated battering ram and knocked him back, but did not burn; the training had paid off. The Dorager saw that its fire had no effect and intensified its blast, landing directly in front of Uriel and raining down its impossible napalm.

The force alone was enough to force Uriel back, but he maintained his footing. Beneath the terrible din of the fire he heard the demon roar in frustration. Somewhere in the distance, two swords clashed and a woman screamed in rage.

The fire stopped suddenly. Uriel lowered his arms and looked ahead; it flashed through his mind that he could only see the neck of the Dorager. The head was gone…

It grew quickly and ominously dark above him. As Uriel looked up, he saw jaws leading to an abyss descending upon him. He had no time to move.

As the Dorager’s mouth struck the ground, Uriel instinctively crouched, reaching out and slapping his palms against the upper and lower parts of the jaw, even as it closed upon him.

Uriel closed his eyes, desperately fighting off the invasive fear that he was about to be swallowed whole. The jaws tightened around him and the sky slowly vanished. He attempted to superheat his palms, but the Dorager didn’t notice. With Uriel firmly in its mouth, the Dorager raised its head from the ground and began rocking backwards, attempting to swallow…

Uriel awoke violently and bolted upright from the massive branch he had been sleeping on. Enveloped in a cold sweat and nearly hyperventilating, he rested a hand on his head and got himself under control. The battle was only fourteen days past; the nightmares were still fresh.

Peering out of the open space in the concealment the tree provided, Uriel realized that it was morning. Time to move.
Uriel stood up, looking down the ground twenty feet below. He scanned the immediate area; he appeared to be alone. He hopped down and landed silently to avoid detection.

As he stood up, he felt the presence behind him and immediately turned around. As he did, he repressed the sense of horror that crept up. Standing before him, dressed in the infallibly white robe that marked their order, was a Seraphim soldier. This one was younger than most.

“I’m not going back.” Uriel said flatly.
“I am not here to arrest you.” The seraphim returned calmly.
This struck Uriel as odd, and for a moment he didn’t say anything.
“I am to deliver a message.” The seraphim informed him.
Uriel clenched a fist. Skipping right to the execution, are we?

“What message?” He growled in a challenging manner.
Without hesitation or fear, the seraphim removed a folded piece of paper bearing Yang’s seal from within his sleeve and approached Uriel, who accepted it. He broke the seal and read over it, unsure what to think; it was an invitation to appear at Asgard in three days, if he could make the journey.

“What is this about?” Uriel asked, looking back to the Seraphim. The soldier exuded no emotion. “I am not privy to that knowledge, sir. I’m only to pass you the invitation. I am also to inform you that your arrival will result in the forgiveness of your crimes.”
Surprised, Uriel looked up. The seraphim was gone.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.