Chapter 23: Repressed Memory
I folded my wings, dropping to the ground. This place was dirty. Canyon walls shot up on either side, vegetation minimal, though a small tree clung to the rock, defying laws of both biology and physics. Below me a dead stream ran, just a trickle. I perched on a rock, waiting, wings used for balance.
Two of my brothers appeared, shooting in from an odd angel, to fit into the chasm. They landed on either side of the brook. They were two of my best, but I could feel their nervousness as if it was my own.
“Ramiel.” Gareth bowed his head in respect. “Brother, I mean no disrespect, but my loyalty is first and foremost to heaven and our father.”
Malik nodded in agreement, his red wings catching the light, giving the whole space a blood-like tone.
“As is mine.” A little anger rippled through me, and I stood up to my full height. “Everything I do is in service of Him.”
“But-” Gareth stammered. “-what you are suggesting. It is disobedience.”
I spread my golden wings, the tips brushing opposite sides of the canyon, and I glided down so I stood at their level.
“I am only following previous orders.”
“Orders that have been retracted!”
This was new to me, my warriors questioning my commands. I understood though. I could always understand those who I had been entrusted to lead. And I could see their fear, feel it in my bones. Was I leading them to damnation? I would not back down from this, but I was cruel to bring my brothers down with me.
“I will do this alone, then,” I said, a note of finality in my voice.
Not waiting for them to answer, I began to walk away, downwards. The floor of the chasm was only a subtle slant, but the sides seemed to be getting closer and closer together at the top, blocking out the sunlight.
“Brother, wait!” Malik called after me. “I do not wish to see you hurt.”
“I will be fine.” I turned to face them again, trying to project a sense of calm. “Do you doubt my ability?”
They both fervently shook their heads.
“Of course not,” Malike answered. “That is not what I mean. The rules are clear. Going there without arch approval...”
“Raphael approved it.” I looked behind me again, into the darkness.
Dread oozed up, pulsing, breathing—heat that made my arm hairs stand on end.
“His orders changed. What if there is a chance of treaty breach?”
“Then it will be an infraction long overdue on our side.”
This was taking too long. I needed to cross that threshold before the things that lived on the other side became aware of our presence.
“I am only doing my duty,” I said, “following through. Raphael will take no responsibility, he will not return to the legion for two nights time.”
“We will be leaderless.”
“I have trust in you, and our brothers.”
“What if someone from heaven-?”
I cut him off. “This is no one's decision but mine, and no one else will face the consequences.”
Finally, they let me leave. My sword was strapped to the outside of my leg, under my pants, and I drew it. It was easy to forget it was there, as it was a part of me, more so than the body I wore. The stink of sulfur permeated the air. The passage was narrowing, and I tucked my wings as tightly to my back as I could manage. Gold feathers scraped against the rough walls, bending, but not breaking.
Behind me I heard the movement of air. My brothers were leaving me. I did not look back. The angels in heaven, how sheltered they were. My legion, and Raguel's, the ones stationed on earth. We could feel it, the subtle disturbance in the air. Something was coming. But blatantly confident as ever—elitist—Gabriel would not listen. I tried to push down the mutinous thoughts, but maybe there was something in the air.
It was pitch dark here, and every footfall I took was one of blind faith. I felt no fear, I told myself. The things in this pit were meant to fear me! Never before had I entered alone, but that did not matter. My mission was clear.
A feeling overcame me, of space, and I spread my wings. Blind, I had sensed that I was no longer confined. Extended to their full span, the tips did not even touch the walls. I flapped, rippling the stale, sour air. No wind whistled through this cavern. In my hand, my sword was cool. It would not be heated by this place.
Bringing the hilt to my forehead, I drew from the pool of light that existed within me. Light like that would draw attention, but I could not go in blind. My vision returned to me, as a little bit of silver leaked from the sword, and from me. Ahead, the ground dropped away into nothingness. At the edge, I fell, wings catching my weight.
Down into hell.
“Ramie!” Someone screamed a name that was not mine. “You lost touch. Come back to me. Follow my voice.”
I soared down, a red glow coming into view.
“On the count of three.”
I tried to ignore the voice, tried to cling to the feeling of my wings behind me, the way they moved.
“One... two... three-”