Prologue
SEVENTEEN YEARS, FOUR MONTHS, AND THREE DAYS AGO
SeraphIaiél — the celestial known as the Light, member of the Council of Seraphim, Keeper of the Future — for the first time in thousands of millennia, rose from her seat and removed herself from the council chamber. Thankfully, none of the other members were present to witness the momentous event. However, eventually, the council would know of her actions. Condemnation would follow, and exile. Cast her out of Heaven? Possibly. Her future was a murky, winding path.
Her death approached. She couldn’t see when or how it would happen, but she would end soon. Today’s actions would hasten her demise.
Incorporeal, nothing more than a glowing ball of energy, she sank through each layer of Heaven, unnoticed by Cherubims, Virtues, Powers, Archangels, Guardians, Principalities, and all the other heavenly hosts occupying the Kingdom. As one of the most powerful beings, she was more than capable of escaping unnoticed.
Free of the last barrier, she floated lower, allowing gravity to pull her toward her destination.
Strange emotions buffeted her as she skimmed the atmosphere. So much balanced on this meeting. The fate of everything—mortals, celestials, their universe—all could be destroyed if she didn’t act now.
No longer could she delay the inevitable while futilely searching for an alternative. Occasionally, she did not see everything. Occasionally, humans and celestials surprised her. Make that annoy. Surprises disrupted the balance between good and evil. Heaven and Hell. Surprises were nothing more than the universe giving a cosmic middle finger thwarting all her plans, plans she’d nurtured for eons upon eons.
There was no alternative for the future bearing down on this universe and the universe next to theirs. No last-minute save unless —
Iaiél quieted her stormy emotions. What must be done, must be done by her and no one else. Few celestials would not understand her choice. The Council of Seraphs would be divided. Michael and Odrael would understand. Nathanal and Tsadkiél would not. There wasn’t much understanding left in those two.
Iaiél cast her thoughts aside and concentrated on the task in front of her. Saving humanity.
She hovered, unencumbered, above the mortal realm. Souls, billions of souls, twinkled brighter than the lights, turning night into day, twinkling like scattered jewels on an inky blanket.
The landscape had changed greatly since she’d last descended from Heaven. Gone was the green and blue planet teeming with primitive life. Humanity had crawled out of the muck and dominated the world around them. As Father had intended. It was too soon for all they’d forged and created to be destroyed. Her decision was made and set. She would not deviate.
Flying over the body of water named the Atlantic, she veered north to the European continent. To the country of Germany. To the city of Landstuhl. To the military hospital.
Gently, she set down on the roof of the building and coalesced. She shrank all her magnificence into a skeletal frame with muscles attached and a layer of skin covering the entire package. Two legs. Two arms. One head. Did she require more? Mortals had more. Sexual appendages she did not need. The body she created was adequate for what the night entailed.
From her perch, she could see the city off in the distance. Cars, humans, trains, but there, at the hospital, it was quiet. Fewer humans around in the midnight hour. Slaves to the circadian rhythm, they retreated at night, surrendering the darkness to nocturnal creatures with better eyesight and sharper claws. With all their weaponry to kill indiscriminately, one would think they would be braver. Yet, on a base level, they all feared the night because the night belonged to beings their weapons couldn’t kill. The night belonged to demons. It always had.
Behind her, energy gathered to a focal point and exploded outward. A portal appeared, much the same as the one she had summoned, and a being as old as her yet slightly less powerful emerged. A negligible fact considering the evil polluting him. A fact they both knew, but power comes in many forms.
“Humans cover their bodies in clothing.” He stepped to her side and joined her, looking out on to the city.
Air streamed around her, chilling her hastily grown skin.
“And have hair in varying places of their bodies. Notably, their head. Along with two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears.”
None of those were necessary for this meeting. However, in the effort to make this unlikely temporary alliance last for the few required moments, she acquiesced. From the fabric of the universe, she fashioned a simple drape to shield her two-legged form. Facial features —ears, eyes, nose, mouth — were next. Hair, long tresses flowed over her shoulders and down her back.
Lastly—an afterthought, really — sprouting from her back were a single pair of white wings. No need for them to be bi-level, as some of her brethren chose. Or tri-level like Michael’s.
Iaiél forced the flash of annoyance away and greeted her ancient nemesis. “Hello, Belial.”
“Greetings, Iaiél.”
Immortal beings did not change. That was the meaning of being immortal. Forever unchanging. The same could not be said for Belial, a Prince of Hell. He had changed since their last, and only, meeting before this one. He remained proudly arrogant, towering over her from his greater height. The figure she’d chosen was more childlike than a mature adult, hoping he would see her as less than a threat. The strongest amongst Hell’s princes, Belial was no match for her.
His eyes were still sunken and soulless. Jaw still square. Nose regal as his bearing. His long blond hair flowed past his broad shoulders. And his wings arched over his shoulders, white like hers yet... Where her wings were pristine — white in its purest form — Belial’s wings were a lackluster opaque tinged with the addition of black tips not previously present.Interesting. Iaiél turned back to the landscape with its twinkling lights. She did not convene this meeting to catalog Belial’s state.
“I’ve had a vision.”
Belial sighed. “Another one?”
She refused to take offense. “That is my purpose. Keeper of the Future.” The only purpose Father had bestowed upon her. “Yes. Another one.”
“And what dire catastrophe have you come to announce? It has been a while since I’ve heard you drone on.” He stroked his chin. “It must truly be catastrophic for you to leave Heaven for the first time... Ever.”