The Gathering

X: A Second Chance

            "I have decided, probably against my better judgment, to give you another chance." Sera's words were a bittersweet relief to Jonah, he would finally get out of this damned cell, have a chance to figure things out, to make up his mind about... everything. But he would have to do it on Sera's terms, not his own.

"Thank you, sir." Jonah relaxed his posture slightly, but Sera wasn't finished. She took one impossibly long stride, ending up only inches from Jonah's face, her tall frame towered over him. Her aura radiated an icy chill.

"Do not thank me." Sera's voice was stifled by malice, the most menacing thing Jonah had ever heard from her, she was so close that he could feel her dragon's breath, "Metatron is the one who groveled on your behalf... in doing so he has exhausted his last favor from me..." Sera stepped back from Jonah, her stoic, calculating demeanor returning, "He will have his wish." The barred door slammed behind her, the vibrations echoing off the cell walls along with Sera's ominous words... 'he will have his wish.'

All that was left to do was wait... Jonah didn't know what would come next, when his 'second chance' would be. He wanted to see Metatron... he was the only person who could possibly tell him what to do – how to get out of this without being sent back to the forge... or worse. ­'What if I just fucking ran?' the possibility had entered Jonah's mind only once before: the day after his father died. "I don't want to leave the outer district..." Jonah of twelve years ago lamented to As, sitting across from him outside the plain dwelling that Jonah would soon have to leave. "We should just run away, I can get away from private tutoring and you can run away from your dad!" Jonah was, at the time, dead serious about this proposal. Gabriel had just told Jonah that he could not continue living alone in his father's home, that he was going to be sent to live and study at the academy of His Father's Service, all the way on the other side of the city.

"I wish we could," replied As, the wintery air blowing around them, "but I don't think there's anywhere we could go where my father couldn't find us." As spoke from experience, he had once run away from home, it had only taken an hour for his father to locate him... and he was not happy. "We can still be best friends, though!" As tried to cheer Jonah up a little. Jonah had just lost his father, he didn't want to lose As too. "Me and Michael will visit your new place as much as we can!"

"Yeah?" Jonah perked up a bit, skeptical but just a little hopeful. 

"Of course!" As' smile could bring warmth to even that bitterly cold winter, twelve years hadn't changed that. Jonah could almost feel the icy winds sting against his watery eyes and tearstained cheeks, he couldn't recall having ever experienced such a cold winter since then. 

The warm, damp air of the cell shattered Jonah's memory as his mind came back to the present... he couldn't just run... they would find him. There was nowhere in Beulah that Jonah could go where he wouldn't be found. Jonah's mind then returned to the scroll... Abel's life. He wanted to know what Metatron thought was so relevant to his situation, but it seemed impossible now, maybe if he hadn't fallen asleep the last time he was there. 'Next time... if there is one.' Jonah thought, exhaling a stressful breath.

"I have a correspondence for you, Jonah." Phan said, approaching his cell. Jonah stirred from a light nap, there was nothing better to do there than sleep. Phan slid an envelope underneath the door, the first thing that caught Jonah's eye was the wax seal, the Divine Crest: a dove silhouetted in front of the blazing sun, a halo adorning its head. That seal was only used by the office of the Regent... Jonah cautiously bent down and took the envelope. He peeled the wax seal off and unfolded the single piece of paper:

From the Office of His Divine Regent: Gabriel.

Jonah.

I first would like to extend my condolences for the loss of Senior Cadet Michael, I know his death has been difFicult for those who knew him. But, I must address the events of yesterday. I write this as a warning and as a kindness; a cadet must never disobey orders the way you did yesterday. Seraphiel's account is very troubling, and had Metatron not given such an emphatic endorsement of you, this would have been a prosecutable offense, your second. The mercy the court granted you last you were before them would not have been offered for another, much more serIous crime.