I was no less ill when we came to Heaven again, and with the way Tiphael and Manzul were eyeing me, I could guess it was apparent. A number of angels were watching as I was carried through the gates, and I was placed loosely on the ground for a moment while my squad debated what to do with me. They were supposed to talk to Cassiel, but also to Gabriel to report the deaths. And potentially to Raphael, if they could find him, to discuss my sick state.
I then realized that Mnyeph had also been killed. An unusual reap for a couple of demons. Demons, though. Right. Demons. I did not want to think about demons.
In the end, or really a few moments later, my living squad members left me on the ground to get their errands done. A few other angels looked after me, but they were mostly looking at me. Distance was kept.
In Heaven, everyone is close to each other. In body, in mind, and in spirit- we share beds, we think the same, and our hearts all dream of Michael alone. Those who do not are those who are not. The impure dreamers, the ones with dead souls that seek only consumption. Greed, Gluttony, Lust- the worst sins. The ones of consumption.
I was not impure, and I knew that. I was not disloyal. I was not imperfect. I was not unloved. And I was not wrong- peace is something that can never be because angels and demons are two things that should never be. Should never have been.
And the line between the two was ever blurring the longer I crossed my eyes and tried to remember.
By the time someone grabbed my arm to pull me up- and, finding that didn't work, simply hoisted me into the air- a memory had resurfaced that confirmed one single fact: I had always been like this. And nothing I had learned was new.
I had a moment of lucid clarity. The same sort my dreams were always in. And I supposed this too, would someday be a dream of mine. Carried over the shoulder and upside down by Cassiel through the ever thinning crowds of Heaven. I thought I smelled bread in the air of the white stone walk, but when I thought of it, I didn't even know if Heaven had ovens.
And this was never ending. By the time I was placed on a worn sort of mattress in a building I didn't know, I was ready to get moving. Wasn't really sure what I was going to do or anything. I was just very, very dizzy and suddenly hyper.
I tried to roll off the bed but Cassiel caught me and put me back again. I tried a lot of times to roll off but she kept putting me back. I grew quite frustrated with Cassiel. I just needed to move.
I grew slowly aware that Cassiel was talking this whole time. Probably had been on the walk over, actually. So I tried to tune in to her- but found I couldn't. Everything she said was just outside of my reach.
I fell back on a hard pillow and something in my neck cracked. I grinned lazily. It seemed to use up my excess energy. I ground my teeth together and just kept smiling, watching Cassiel's lips move with a dangerously cloudy mind. She had nice lips. Concerned lips.
'Michael, are you okay' I think she was saying but it was hard to really tell. 'Michael, what is wrong. Michael, please talk.'
If she kept talking like this, I'd never find a point to interject.
'I'm fine.' I think I said to her. 'But fine doesn't cut it anymore.'
She kept talking after that. Didn't even pause when I was speaking. Maybe I hadn't made a noise at all. I didn't know. It was hard to tell.