MAIEL PEERED FROM UNDER the cowl of the bulky cloak that covered her. She noticed the driver watching them in the rearview mirror. She held his stare, challenging him to continue his spying. Her eyes flashed and that was the last glance he dared. She smiled softly to herself, thinking of everything that brought her to this moment as the countryside slid past her window. If she had half her strength back, she would have been able to carry both Orius and herself to their destination in the blink of an eye. Instead, they were trapped inside the stuffy car slowly rolling over cramped streets. To make matters worse, Orius wasn't talkative. She assumed it was due to the nosy driver. Anything they said would be repeated to the man they visited and he would interpret the information according to his bias. Yet Orius planned to share their greatest secret at the end of the drive. The vratin's mistrust of his elder was increasingly obvious since the first phone call.
Maiel sighed, wondering if she would see her family again. An image of Dominic coming to her rescue played in the back of her mind. The last impression she had had of her husband told her that he'd be unable to make such a rescue again. He had failed to strengthen his skills, and because of this, the others would certainly not allow a rescue either. She was lost there and had to find her way back alone if she could. The rest of the family would follow the rules, ensuring that if no one reached them, she faced her test alone to prove herself and keep the clan name untainted.
Orius touched her arm in consolation, as if he could read her thoughts. Maiel relaxed against the seat. His eyes looked as worried as she imagined her own were. In another time, they could have spoken without the human hearing them. Now they could only gaze at each other and hope their expressions imparted some meaning the other could understand. He gave a weak smile and returned to looking out the window, giving her armored forearm a pat.
The car continued on after a brief halt at an intersection. People dashed across the lane ahead. It was the same thing every minute or so. She wondered how she'd ever withstood the daily debacle humans called life. The mind wipe caused by the bio-vessel sometimes seemed like a blessing. Maiel shut her eyes and decided to focus on regaining some strength in the event Orius's fears were justified. Shrouded in meditation, she wouldn't have to witness the monotonous voyage.
Nearly an hour passed before they arrived at their destination. Maiel opened her eyes, refreshed but not cheered. The car drove up a broad drive, passing tourists and vratin alike. An old wall was littered with rubble and construction signs in which the remains of an old arch in severe disrepair overlooked the lawn. The day was still young and the sun shone brightly in the sky. Maiel wondered why they didn't move her during the night undercover of darkness. At least it would have been more exciting with the promise of shades to combat. In the daylight, there were many humans to hide from, but no immediate threat due to their visibility. Even the shadowborn were wary. Neither world wished themselves disclosed to Samsara. In Zion, it was the law; no interference was allowed that wasn't first adjudicated and approved.
Maiel never felt self-conscious about her appearance, but when the height of most humans barely made it to her shoulder, she stood out. At more than seven feet, she cut an unusual figure among them, sure to be remembered. Thankfully, Orius was quite tall for his adoptive kind, which only heightened the spectacle of their entrance.
The car parked before the front stairs. A young vratin ran down the steps and greeted them, opening the door to the car. The vehicle had gained the attention of several bystanders. Orius climbed out first, then helped her to exit without revealing a glint of armor or crimson locks. She imagined she was quite the sight, as several others stopped to gape at their passage. Orius regarded her nervously. The driver pulled Orius's bag from the trunk and gave it to him. After he accepted the luggage, he gave her a warm, encouraging smile and urged her forward.
The massive buildings were a grotesque display of confused human knowledge. Maiel frowned at it. She supposed it could be considered impressive or even beautiful, but there were too many shadows lurking. The darkness muted the grandeur. The friezes and statues turned to watch her. She lowered her chin, reminding herself to go easy on the humans. After all, flesh disrupted consciousness. They nearly forget everything they had come from and even their purpose. It was not worth casting blame.
"Come along, Bethiah," Orius said, starting up the weathered stairs to the stained edifice.
Maiel followed him, noticing her sandals glinting rather brilliantly in the sunlight. She wondered if anyone had noticed. Reluctant to let a single soul see any part of her, she hurried her pace. They entered the basilica, passing through a tall green door, a narrow entrance, and under one of three arches into the nave. The ancient structure smelled faintly of sulfur and roses. She felt the presence of many strange energies, all disguised by other layers, masks, and costumes. The air grew thicker the farther they trekked. She noticed the few souls and other beings bent in prayer as they sat in dark wooden pews. The vast room was deathly quiet but for their passing. The tapping of her sandals against the marble floor, the creak of her armor's joints, the tremor of the sword strapped to her hip, echoed through the giant room. Orius faced her with a concerned mien, bringing their guide to a stop as well.
"I nearly forgot," Orius said, eyeing her.
The vratin looked around sheepishly. Those sitting in the pews praying looked quite annoyed by their noisy passing. He nodded, mumbling something. An old woman crossed herself and muttered under her breath. There was naught they could do and both their arrival and passing had already made an impression. He shook his head and they continued on their way.
"Nothing for it now," he muttered.
Maiel stepped forward, trying very hard to stay quiet. She drew the cloak tighter about her form. All she could do was silence the sword and try to walk more delicately. She watched the intricate star design of the floor under her feet. This drew her gaze to the marble walls, to the statuary, and the multitude of altars. The gray walls were decorated with enormous frescos, depicting images from the life of the prince's incarnation, at least as humans recalled them. A frown drew her mouth down, but the images took her eyes up. The inside of the dome was ringed by windows, with ornate vaulting above. At the center was a round eye peering back at her. The structure resembled the Seal of Samsara. A pang tore through her core, pulling her chin back down. The statues wept for her. The appliance binding to her atman prevented her from using the ways.
The vratin hurried them into a narrow hall to the right of the altar. They passed a room filled with gold crosses and other treasures of religious antiquity that made her pause. That treasure could feed hundreds. The vratin guiding them urged them forward before she could question their hoarding. Down the passage, he led them into a room that smelled like old books. He continued to the back, explaining the direct route was blocked by the tourists in the crypt at that hour. Without any ceremony, he popped open a secret door behind a niche and gestured. Spiral stairs twisted down through the dark. A thick blanket of dust covered the old stones with no prints. Maiel hesitated, but Orius placed a hand on her shoulder and gave his reassuring smile. The expression failed to inspire hope. She preferred staying with Orius's order, where there was safety despite Morgentus. The other guardians weren't about to let him harm anyone, though. Here there was only suspicion and doubt and rooms filled with shades and a possible marditavya that was sure to betray them to his master. Under such circumstances, Morgentus could walk through the front doors to wherever they hid her to finish his work. This place wasn't the haven it seemed, no matter what hidden route they wandered.
Disregarding her better judgment, Maiel followed the passage down. At the bottom of the steps an old wooden door opened on a dimly lit passage. The tunnel appeared even older, dug from the rock and earth beneath the cathedral centuries ago. Relics, brick, and dust rested against the walls. Maiel was reminded of a labyrinth, and an unsettling feeling crept into her bones. The vratin explained to Orius that this was a very old crypt from a previous church that had been built there. A place that they didn't share with the public. That was convenient. She was about to warn Orius, but his confident gait and expression shut her up.
Their guide next brought them to a dead end and another old door. He produced an old iron key, unlocked the door and pressed the barrier back. The hinges groaned from disuse. A dark alcove appeared before them, an old burial chamber. Lingering shadows immediately retreated beneath the dim light he flipped on. He urged them inside, but Maiel hesitated. Besides feeling like they were in a prison, the wiring was ancient and the smell of electricity warned her not to go in any farther. Orius looked to her knowingly. The vratin flicked another switch, turning on more electric bulbs strung in the center of the long, low room. Orius placed a hand on her back and mumbled some encouragement. The door closed and the locked clicked.
Maiel faced the earthy cell, pacing to the far end. The walls felt close and dense, even though the space was nearly as large as a modest farmhouse basement. There was a long, old table with benches and enough dust on the stone floor to cover a grave. The smell of corpses lingered in the air. Niches covered in dried mud and concrete attested to the function of this space. Orius set his bag on the table and sat himself on one of the benches.
"You don't find this strange, Orius?" Maiel asked him.
"I'm sure it's just a precaution, Bethiah. After all, they can't be sure you're a lightwalker." Orius smiled.
Maiel found a sturdy stool and dragged it to the far wall. From there, she could see the entire room. Slumping onto the rickety seat, she reached for anyone who might be near. Orius shouldn't have called for help, at least not from this place. They could have relied on themselves to fight Morgentus instead of risking an addition to the evil one's pool of resources. If she could just have reached back into Zion and made contact with her akha. All they needed was to tell them Morgentus hunted her. They would have come. There wasn't an order or commander in all the armies that could stay Joel. As for Zach, no council could rein him in. A tear slipped from her eye.
"I shouldn't have come. We should have asked one of the guardians to help," Maiel said woefully.
Orius looked to her, his arms crossed and his brows knitted.
"The shadow reaches into places that we don't perceive. With a little patience, my friends would've come to me before your akha succeeded in dragging me off. My discernment isn't what it used to be. If it were, I would've realized I had all I needed at your church. Instead, I've condemned us both."
Orius chuckled.
"Don't be so dark. Geitz is just taking care. He trusts my judgment, but one can never be too careful. He's very aware of how imps and shades work."
"I'm not so sure. I may be losing my abilities, but the darkness and light still contrast," Maiel said. She paused, pulling the hood back from her helmet. She adjusted it, uncomfortable. "Have you ever told him of your akha?" she asked.
Before Orius could answer, a knock on the door stopped their dialogue. She flipped the hood back up and Orius called their visitor inside. A vratin entered, carrying a tray. He set it on the table and exited, again locking the door. Maiel looked at the pitcher and loaf of bread. She pulled back her hood and raised an eyebrow at him.
Orius poured a cup of water and drank. With a grin, he informed her it wasn't poisoned. He then pulled a piece of bread from the loaf and ate it. Again, it wasn't poisoned. He then folded his arms and faced the door. He didn't answer the question she'd asked. Maiel took his silence for a no.
Maiel folded her arms and then her legs at the ankles, stretching her length out while resting her back against the cold wall. Her ears filled with a gentle whisper. The room tried to tell its story, but she wasn't strong enough to hear. She shut her eyes and listened, hoping to catch even one word. The voices became more insistent. A strange buzz radiated through her. The voices grew louder; the noise was like a thousand voices all shouting at once behind thick glass.
Another knock sounded at the door. The voices instantly ceased. Maiel opened her eyes and looked in the direction of the door. Orius motioned for her to replace her hood. She sat up, drawing her legs back to the stool. She shifted the cloak to conceal every inch. Orius called to whoever had come. The vratin who brought them water and bread returned, along with a spotted old man in the same raiment of the clergy.
"Archbishop Geitz, it's so good to see you, my old friend." Orius grinned, towering over the human.
"Gregely," Geitz greeted him eagerly.
Maiel sat still, waiting for them to acknowledge her. Geitz wasn't what she'd expected. He was quite a bit older and smaller. His thin white hair and piercing dark gaze reminded her of the elders back home. She sat up taller, regaining her hope.
"How was the drive?" Geitz asked in a raspy tone.
"Lovely, as always, but the traffic was horrendous."
"Good. Good. Yes, it can be this time of morning."
Geitz turned toward her. His smile slowly faded; he was uneasy with finally seeing her. His bow-legged step brought him closer.
"Is this our new friend?"
"Yes," Orius said, unsure if he should allow Geitz to approach further or to slow the introduction.
Maiel peered at them from beneath her cloak. Geitz watched her in return. He lifted his hand and dismissed his companion. The man switched his gaze between Orius and the archbishop. He reluctantly backed out of the room and closed the door. Maiel heard the lock set.
"I am Archbishop Luca Geitz. Welcome to the Basilica of Esztergom, messenger," Geitz said.
Maiel didn't stir. She watched Orius come closer. He placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered reassuringly. Maiel stood, pulling her hood back. She glared down at him, clearly offended at his touch. Geitz stared up at her with his mouth agape.
"My God," Geitz rasped.
"Let me take that," Orius said, helping her take off the cloak, wanting to redirect her temper.
Geitz stumbled backward as she flexed her wings. Maiel held her tongue, waiting for Orius to take the lead. Geitz regained his composure, whispering about saints and holy relics. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. Orius fetched him a glass of water. The archbishop sipped and stared at her. Feeling a bit parched herself, Maiel poured her own drink and brought the cup to her hand like the night she had first met Orius. Geitz stumbled back, spilling his drink. With a twinkle in her eye, she sipped from the vessel. Orius gave her a reproachful glance. Geitz carefully went to the table and sat on the bench. Maiel sat back on her stool and Orius joined his friend.
"Did you not believe me?" Orius asked him.
Geitz regarded him, reluctant to answer that question. If he admitted to not believing him, then he admitted that he didn't believe that Orius was what he claimed either. He folded his hands together before his face and looked sidelong in Maiel's direction. She returned the gaze and he quickly focused on Orius.
"It is difficult to explain. I believed you or wanted to believe you. It's one of those things, until you see it, it's never quite so grand as it should be," Geitz tried to reply delicately.
"Nothing's quite right in Samsara, a twisted reflection of home," Maiel told him.
Geitz looked toward her, surprised that she spoke and then nodded to acknowledge her speech. He watched her a moment too long and Maiel found herself wondering about her safety again. Geitz lowered his eyes. He bent his head in prayer, then crossed himself. Orius copied him. Maiel shifted on her stool, hearing the voices in the stones again. The whispers had calmed, but they held an edge, like they were desperate to speak but prevented by some threatening force.
"Let us begin," Geitz said, getting to his feet.
Maiel turned her attention from the walls of the basilica to its master. He pressed his hands together before him and smiled at her. She sat up straight and watched him warily. She supposed he was about to interview her to determine if she was as Orius claimed. If she didn't align herself with what they believed, how could she prove her origins? Humans had their rituals and books. They clung tightly to them. The truth that countered their faith could easily condemn her.
"Holy messenger, you'll forgive your humble servants, but it's necessary that we—evaluate your claims. I just wish to ask you some questions." Geitz bowed slightly.
Maiel eyed him, deciding not to correct everything that was wrong with his statement.
"What I answer may not fall in line with your belief of what's truth. How can you test my claims if you don't have the truth?"
Geitz's smile faded. He straightened, not answering her question.
"We'll do our best, Bethiah," Orius assured her.
Orius drew two stools from near the table and set them before her. The men sat facing her. She looked to Orius with doubt. He gave a slight smile, holding that gaze, assuring her that he understood her reluctance to continue. Too bad they were already locked inside a room deep beneath one of their sanctuaries. Maiel's mind flashed with unpleasant memories.
"Your patience is greatly appreciated," Geitz said.
Maiel set her full attention on him, just as she had with Father Gallo, but this time she didn't feel so amused. Geitz's forehead glistened with sweat again and he wiped his brow more than once during the inquiry. She frowned, replying to each of his questions with curt answers. Beside him, Orius's posture was tight; he was vexed and worried by her behavior.
"Why do you think God would do this to you?" Geitz suddenly asked.
Maiel stared at him. She supposed from her experience with Orius's order that by God, he meant King Adonai or some other Jñanasattva of Nirvana. However, Adonai had nothing to do with her being on Earth. She scowled in response, with no words to explain her darkened expression. Geitz drew back, obviously concerned that his wording had provoked her.
"The king has nothing to do with my presence here. I came to correct a mistake I made during my mission, a mistake brought on by the interference of a shadowalker," Maiel decided to reply.
"She shows greater strength than I. As you remember—I awoke whole, without my armor and wings. She was just forming when I discovered her, and as you can see her wings are still very much attached," Orius chimed in.
"Then how have you determined she's fallen," Geitz murmured.
"We don't take on flesh, though we appear solid to you when we wish to. I have taken on flesh, and it isn't my choice to be visible," Maiel replied, not divulging that the spent penannular had caused her visibility.
Geitz didn't respond. He licked his lips and wiped his brow again. The answers befuddled him more than clarifying the reason for her presence. He drew a deep breath and sighed. Maiel held his gaze. She dug into his eyes, hoping that the remains of her power would help discern his true character. The walls whispered the answer, but their tangled messages remained indecipherable. His atman would tell her, if she could reach it.
"Tell me the whole story of how you came to be on Earth," Geitz asked, crossing his arms.
Maiel relayed the tale to him in a short, undetailed narrative. When she finished, the archbishop stared in stunned silence. His gaze held steady, in contrast to moments ago.
"Your—king, you say he gave you no warning of his intention," Geitz prompted.
"No, as I told you, it was my negligence." Maiel refused to be prompted.
"This is what made you angry? Why you took matters into your own hands? To make amends or to defy the king?" Geitz pressed.
Maiel stared, unblinking. He tried to make her say something that would condemn her.
"You'll never find your way back if you intend to defy the rules and embrace the emotion of anger," Geitz told her, resembling a rather austere professor.
Maiel held his gaze, not answering. He thought to teach her. Laughable.
"Perhaps your true mistake was in attempting to know his intentions. They aren't to be known by any but himself—the truth is beyond our capacity for understanding. Therefore, it's our duty to obey to the letter, or hardship befalls us." Geitz smiled.
"Archbishop, I'm afraid it's more difficult than that. Bethiah—as I've come to call her—is being hunted by a demon. This contest hasn't allowed her rest or to consult her brethren," Orius told him.
"You mentioned on the phone, but I must keep with what I said. Had she obeyed her orders, she wouldn't be in this position," Geitz said distractedly.
He eyed her, meeting her gaze. "Bethiah," he breathed.
"Can you help her?" Orius asked.
Maiel's gaze went to her friend. He looked desperate and full of doubt.
"Perhaps, you're right. If I'd gone to my council—" Maiel finally spoke.
"Council?" Geitz cut her off.
"Angels are organized similar to our church, suffice it to say. They take orders like we do, from above," Orius said, a touch impatient, as if he'd already explained this before.
"Well, then. It would be a grave mistake to ignore your betters—but—but, I thought angels did everything as they should. What you tell me brings into question the long held notions of your kind. Is it something else, maybe, that clouds your judgment? It just isn't yours to have free will."
"We are autonomous. Lucifer's story is one of free will. What you speak of is an aberration of man. What appears to be a lack of free will to your kind is simply our acting on ancient wisdom."
Geitz paused, smiling at her. She supposed he meant to look friendly, but the expression reminded her of an imp she'd once stumbled upon. She held her silence again.
"I'm corrected, sacred one," he chuckled. "You mentioned your husband's a human who hopes to elevate to your status. That's blasphemous, as you must know," Geitz said, after a pause.
Maiel bit her tongue, her mouth forming into a flat line. He baited her. However, she wouldn't destroy all of his illusions just yet. In time her moment would come. Right then, she needed to keep her temper, in case Orius was right and he could offer her help.
"Is it a usual practice—making clay into diamonds?" Geitz asked, seeing that his words were affecting her.
"Clay must be tested by fire. We are made from fire, purified at our creation.
Through many trials the clay is processed the same. Though they are originally created of different material, they may become duta," Maiel said, going with his analogy. Matters were really more complicated.
Geitz frowned deeply. He didn't like her answer, but she didn't fool herself into believing that he would. Humans such as Geitz seldom reveled in truth, chafing at it instead. It stole their claim to supremacy—the things they actually worshiped.
"I believe you," Geitz said stonily, then nodded with an unsure smile.
The archbishop grit his teeth. He tore his eyes away from her and looked to his friend. His expression softened and he nodded, affirming that he would try. Maiel didn't like his reaction, suspecting he felt her scrutiny. His dark eyes turned back to her, piercing and angry. He gave another smile, but the warmth was still absent.
"I'll try. I believe you," he repeated.
* * *
Magiel paced the entrance to the grand council chamber. Gediel wondered if she knew what he had discovered. Her khata kept the secret from everyone, but did she spare her closest relation the knowledge? Magiel didn't let on, but she was one of the best he knew at guarding against any show of emotion. Even Zacharius was second to her. Gediel smiled, reminded of the young alder. Zach's stoicism was in harmony with his wicked wit. And he was loyal.
The High Council's chamber door opened and Gediel followed Magiel onto the balcony. He could see a pale blue sky beyond the opening. Lemitus wasn't to be seen in her usual place. Corpheus and Denius had switched seats and were engaged in some sort of staring contest. The two councilors passed the time exploring each other's minds on some contested issue. Metatron joined them from the kapalanum chamber at the high end of the room. His dark eyes landed on Gediel and stuck. A violet light faded from his eyes.
"What progress have you made?" he asked.
"You were just watching, I presume," Gediel replied.
Magiel looked at him, surprised. Metatron eyed him, annoyed by his boldness. However, Gediel wasn't the only one among his rank who gave him trouble. His friend had taught him not to fear the council and to challenge them from time to time. They often forgot with whom they dealt and needed reminding.
"In fact, I've been watching you, Primus Gediel—watcher—or what will become of you," Metatron replied. He stepped around them and joined his companions. Lemitus appeared in the opening, offering Gediel an imperceptible smile. "If you're wondering, not much has changed."
"I'll prove my line and avenge my family name, but that isn't why we come before you," Gediel said.
"Dominic's closer in his search for his wife," Magiel said, interrupting them.
"Belial gains dominion in Samsara. He reaches out to take the erela Maiel. He also reaches for six others. They may already be lost to us," Metatron replied.
"One more Earth day and Dominic will have reached her," Magiel replied.
"Who are the other four?" Gediel asked, noting the more important information that Metatron had shared with them.
"After all that work, you don't know?"
Metatron faced him, as both Corpheus and Denius came out of their meditation. Gediel saw that he hadn't gathered all the intelligence he could have. He was obviously distracted by the damning tidbit of information he'd received.
"Lena and Dominic surely, but who else?" Magiel breathed.
"This night, he laid claim to Maxiel," Gediel added.
"A long time ago, just after the Conflict of Hosts, a guardian of the light saw the destruction and waste that was laid by the dissenters. He lost his younger akha, whom he loved dearly, and struggled hard to preserve this young duta by regimenting his every move. His loyalty to the king faltered when he was made to watch but not act against his sibling's grievous sins. He believed they weren't that different, being hewn from the same rock, and that he also wasn't worthy of his rank and station. Worse, he saw Adonai's reaction to the crimes as weakness. The king should've known that Lucifer and his companions turned their backs on their posts and prevented it from coming to pass, as he had controlled his akha. What he didn't realize is that the Conflict served to remind us that choices have consequences and some choices require great deliberation. If we interfere with an atman's autonomy, we will never know who is loyal and who is to betray us," Metatron said, revealing the reason behind his reluctance to intervene.
"Decurio Oriael?" Magiel said, confused.
Magiel's complexion paled. She stepped away from them and wandered along the balcony. Gediel patiently waited for her to speak. She was a youngling during the Conflict, as was her khata. Oriael was already a legend among the higher incarnations and a model for what they each could achieve. It was strange that he fell, but so was the fall of his aryika.
"Oriael was one of the finest guardians the light claimed. A soldier of the Moon Order. He reached the rank of Power quickly, well on his way to his final rising. No one saw his fall coming. It shouldn't have been possible—just like my niece," Magiel said.
"It's always possible, if they ignore the path," Corpheus said.
"Comforting. Who are the others?" Gediel frowned.
"A human that has been connected to Oriael during his service as vratin," Metatron said.
"We can save him easily enough," Magiel said.
"Not this one. He's been in service to Belial for the majority of his entire incarnation. He fades as we speak. Nor can you save Dominic. He burns with the fire and will betray us all to preserve his ketu."
"Any of us would," Magiel defended him.
"No. We wouldn't," Gediel mumbled.
"Adonai has given his command," Metatron said gravely.
"Then we bring four back—but you said seven, atman," Gediel said.
Metatron eyed him, but didn't reply.
"To return to us, Dominic will need to sacrifice himself for the others," Denius said, whipping his tail insistently.
"Maiel and Lena are the only important souls. They must return, but the others can be sacrificed," Metatron added.
"Who is the last?" Gediel posed the question again.
Metatron assessed him with a stern glance.
"You."
Magiel gasped.
Gediel felt the response reverberate through his sattva. This was to be expected.
"Your duty is to secure Oriael, Lena, and Captain Maiel. No more,"
Metatron said.
"We leave none behind," Gediel said.
"You don't have a choice," Metatron told him.
Gediel and the seraph stared at one another in a test of wills.
"What is it that you wish of us?" Magiel asked, breaking the spell.
"Make sure Dominic goes to the basilica in Hungary, then stand down and let him be taken by Morgentus. It's the only way for him to return to us, if he will, and it will shake Maiel out of her doubt. She'll face the labyrinth lord, but she'll not cast him into Oblivion. Not yet. Adonai has need of him still. His ambition is the key to ending this conflict once and for all. As for Oriael, Belial will see to him and the burning vratin. You won't intervene and prevent his return. He's far too important to you."
Magiel inclined her head, accepting the order without question. Gediel found himself hesitant. He offered a reluctant nod and a wary glance to the councilors instead.
"That will be all, alder Magiel," Metatron said to her.
"Thank you for your graciousness," Magiel said, turning from them in a sweeping bow.
Gediel's back stiffened and his chin raised. He heard the entrance door open and shut behind the alder. He was now alone with the council. For a moment, he thought they had no interest in what it was he'd uncovered. Metatron's dark gaze said otherwise.
"Give your report, and then you may see Commander Voil," Metatron demanded.
"Maxiel has been the cause of the fall and dark efforts that poisoned the soul. There may be no way of turning Dominic back, if there ever was. Morgentus staked his claim with a nail many years ago. He's been burning down ever since. I suggest an investigation into anyone he's had contact with in that time," Gediel said.
"The future has always declared their burning. The nail only made that process faster for Maxiel," Metatron admitted.
"Then why waste her on the human?" Gediel asked.
"Why are you concerned, Primus Gediel?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Gediel said, eyes flashing silver.
"Keep to your wolves and dogs, watcher. That is a matter of council business."
"Stealing a mate for another isn't council business. You walk a thin line that could see you wed to Belial for betraying the light, Metatron. Their ketu is a dishonor to the king."
"It's obvious that you've far to go before you understand the complexities of our plans," Metatron replied.
"You just mentioned a moment ago that they're targeting me. Didn't you think that would be the way?"
Gediel cast his eyes over the others. Their stoic expressions asserted their compliance with the decision that had been made long ago. This new development meant little to them. Only Lemitus showed a glimmer of remorse, for she loved her warrior children. Gediel returned his gaze to the head councilor. Metatron studied him. He gathered by his interest in his future that they thought this news would send him over the edge.
"It's not I who walks a thin line," Metatron growled.
"The result of this trial will prove our loyalty, I hope, once and for all. How you could question Captain Maiel eludes me, but I've seen you put Mikhael through his paces from time to time. Perhaps it amuses you. Let me ask you this, though—what if the others have been implanted with the same poison? Each encountered Morgentus in the Astrals."
"You really don't understand why?"
Gediel had no answer to that question that he hadn't already alluded to. His jaw squeezed tight, and he ground his teeth together.
"This doesn't really have anything to do with her does it, because she's been tested and proven her unfailing will. Once free of these bonds, she'll rise quickly. Dominic, however, has proven he's irrational and selfish. He loves her though and is loyal to her ideals," Gediel replied.
"Not him," Metatron said. He waited a beat, to watch Gediel take in his words. Then he added, "He's all but lost to us. One last trial will prove how tenuous his loyalty is. The poison you speak of—has already done its work. He's not strong enough to survive it."
"Why not cast him out now?"
"We both know we would lose her. His loss is asking too much in her present state of mind. She'll have to be shown what he is. It'll not be an easy task. It never has been. In the meantime, it has shown us the mettle of your atman and we continue with the plan as is," Metatron replied.
"Oriael would be proud to see that you've gone to such lengths, though they are late," Gediel challenged.
"Oriael understood that in some cases rigid control is the only answer. We weighed our options and this gave Dominic the greatest chance. I hope you will come to see that, and that more than your dharma matters in the equation, Primus," Metatron warned.
Gediel clamped his teeth together, refusing to speak another word. He wasn't being selfish in questioning their tactics. The price was simply too high.
"For now, watcher. Hold back Evocati Luthias. Take him so that you can both make amends to Shen for polluting his door to the Astrals. You're dismissed."
Gediel swallowed the terrible taste in his mouth. They took her to give her to a lesser threat. He inclined his head stiffly and turned to leave under their watchful gaze before the tears spilled from his eyes.
Magiel awaited him in the antechamber. Her dark eyes betrayed the emotions overcoming her.
"Their abilities have grown too great to lose them to darkness," she said.
"Don't believe for one moment that such will come to pass," Gediel said, placing his hands on her arms.
"What can we possibly do to make this right?"
"I have a plan. Follow your khata and be sure that she does as they have requested. Leave the rest to me," Gediel said, walking down the hall, away from the reach of the councilors.
Magiel hurried to keep up with him. She looked little eased by his confidence.
"Have you no faith in me?" he asked.
"I can only hope your plan works, whatever it is," Magiel replied, tormented by her thoughts.
Gediel grinned. He harbored no doubts in the plan he formulated, nor his ability to carry it out. However, the many variables suggested he should examine his ideas again, to be sure he could account for each possibility and return with their four threatened atman. They didn't leave any behind, but he was willing to sacrifice any of them if it made the difference between losing Maiel and securing her. That fact bothered him, but now he understood from what this reluctance stemmed and he could manage the instinct.
"Don't do anything rash," Magiel said.
Gediel paused and looked askance at her. Did she really think him capable?
"I almost grew fond of him. Yet something always bothered me. It's no secret I don't care much for any of them, but him—in particular—a shade and flame stirred inside that heart. Deceitful, lazy, flippant, and horribly clumsy. How he deserved my niece before you, I'll never be able to understand. They have wronged you both in this, and I can't help thinking he may have been saved if they were honest with us," Magiel said, taking his arm.
"Perhaps, but it's our duty to do what we can for souls in their journeys. None of those attributes should condemn them. They're children compared to us. See Maiel's sacrifice as honorable and mine as well," Gediel said, also struggling with their reasons to test their trust.
"Pity—that's what the others will feel for you."
"They already do, but when I have slain my aryika and sent that stain on my family's name into Oblivion, then they'll have respect. Our allegiance to the king will never be questioned again."