Raquiel

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Raquiel

Raquiel

by Erisian

Light flickers across the café table's turquoise checkerboard and the cigarette's smoke curls upward, mixing with the scent of coffee and the coming rain. Voices bubble all around to fill the evening air with bursts of laughter and camaraderie, but to them I do not listen.

Instead I stare.

My gaze is fixed upon the plain white envelope resting upon the fake marble tabletop where it sits next to an ignored saucer and cup. Yet my eyes see past it to a place so very far away, beyond the reaches of this world. To a place whose name could best be translated as the Edge.

The Edge of all things.

A memory – both mine and not mine – replays itself, and like a theater-attendee nailed permanently to their seat, I can not look away.

Smoke swirls, coffee cools, and I remember her.

Fabriel.

She stood there before the Edge, tears upon cheeks as soft and pure as new-fallen snow, facing a darkness that was not dark, the transition to nothingness perceived not by sight or smell but by its lack. Words cannot describe it, thoughts cannot compass it, and no silence can take its measure. Some call the void the ‘primal chaos’, a sea of timeless infinities without pattern where all things are simultaneously possible and thus nothing can stand and be.

To say I loved her would be a misnomer for it is far too easy to use such a word and thus it is entirely inadequate. From the beginning we were together. Three of us, forged as a perfect triangle, the two warriors sustained in balance by the one who kept us whole. Bound by love, bound by duty, and bound by divine purpose we three were inseparable, responding to every call to arms with fervent dedication and without doubt.

We weren’t the oldest or the youngest to serve, but we were there for the final pushes into that chaos. We fought and bled alongside our brethren, dancing with shining blades and glorious wings against the shapes which arose from the clash of light-filled order with that which was not. Much of what formed lashed out with the need to repel that light as it burned across raw potential which cried mightily with terrible power of pain and fury.

I mention these things so my love for her can be better understood. With him at my side and her at our backs we fought things which wished to shred our essences into scattered fragments of lost thought. We rallied unto our superiors as they guided us, led us, and to the best of their abilities protected us from the larger archons whose destructive potential rivaled the archangels themselves.

This went on until borders marking the delineations of what was to be were firmly established, fixed solidly in place forever. How many of us were created and lost during that time, honestly I cannot count. Too many whom I never knew were swallowed by the maws of things that should not be, or broken into naught but limbs and feathers by the many weapons of our adversaries. Yet we stayed strong as Fabriel’s care held us together, at times hers was the only power keeping us from slipping apart into pieces and waiting oblivion.

When our own rose up to challenge the Throne we again did our duty - comrades we had saved, or who in turn had saved us, were cut down by our blades and our will. Once more it was Fabriel who tended us when we returned covered in the blood of our brethren, to wash us with her patient hands until again we shone with the strength of our purpose.

Of my purpose. For our brother, my shield as I was his sword, lost his way.

Our generals were marching the last of the Watchers past the gates of our Home when it happened, the short line ragged and shuffling amidst the precision of their escort. Members of their chorus had conspired against the Throne, and all were being cast out in return. But Iadiel turned to me with an expression unreadable, and with a fierce grip on my arm he whispered into my ear. “This is wrong, brother,” is what he said. “These had no contact with the rebels, they deserve not this fate.”

I remember searching his face without comprehension – orders were orders, and if the generals saw these few as a threat then as threats they should be removed. Else risk another War to start, something I could not abide.

He saw my blankness and wrapped me in a tight embrace. Not understanding, I clasped him back. With a final whisper he then pulled away to walk towards the group being cast forth and with eyes fixed with determination, joined them.

“Tell her I love her.”

Those were Iadiel's last words to me. I stood in shock staring at the line he had crossed – the line where on one side lay his duty, me, and Fabriel, and on the other lay the fall into realms tainted by the abyss from which he could never return.

She was not there with us that day, having been ordered to attend an archangel on some errand away from our city and home. In my heart I weep as she must have blamed me for not stopping him, just as I did to myself. News of the loss sent her to the Edge, which is where I found her with cheeks divine and tainted with a grief beyond measure.

I tried to tell her that his last words were for her but as I approached she gave a sad smile and shook her head. Even as I lunged to grab her hand it was too late, for she had stepped back across the threshold and let the nothingness take her. She did not grant the chance or time to speak.

I would have followed, unthinking in desperation, but I had not arrived alone and my escort stopped me. Too late for her, too late for my brother, the hands of our winged brethren caught only me.

How long I was in their care, I cannot say. Two thirds of myself was suddenly, in my way of thinking, gone forever. The pain – well, such things are perhaps left unspoken.

When allowed to return to duty I volunteered for the harshest and most suicidal of missions. But my own willingness to push myself to the limit worked against me, as I was all too successful. Forays against rebels and chaotic incursions in the ongoing minor skirmishes all ended with much blood and victory.

It was Gabriel who came to me in his male aspect. His calm and compassionate concern tried to reach the turmoil lodged within my heart, but I refused to speak of it.

A vacation, he said. I needed time to ‘heal and recover’. I attempted a refusal, but he made it an order – and thus I had to obey. A life lived within the physical realms, a life to forget and gain new perspective, this is what was needed according to him.

And so I went whether I wished or no, and my essence flowed into this mix of chaos and order, binding itself down to fit within a newly born vessel. Memories were locked away behind the barriers erected by Gabriel and Azrael which cover the world.

Perhaps I could have enjoyed a full life, oblivious to this history, and my true nature. But chance rolls its dice and this was not to be. Shocks to the spirit can cause the locks to fail, and fail they did.

They failed when our car was struck by the truck whose driver was trying desperately to deliver his payload on time despite the weather. He had not stopped to sleep which led to closed eyes and his truck drifting into our lane, forcing us off the road to tumble within twisting protesting metal only to end at the bottom of the ravine aflame and trapped.

They failed when the paramedics were only able to rescue me from the fire while my husband burned.

They failed when the injuries I'd suffered triggered a miscarriage en route to the hospital.

They failed when I visited the truck driver, late at night when he was alone in his bed, and I placed the gun against his temple. When he had closed his eyes and begged me to pull the trigger to stop the horror and guilt consuming his sleep and every dream.

They collapsed as he wept for forgiveness, for an end to his suffering and self-loathing.

And I granted him neither.

Now here I am, the cigarette having burnt into a line of drooping ash. Still staring at the envelope resting upon the table, the writing within invisible and incomprehensible to mortal eyes. It took a lot of effort to acquire, a lot of effort to develop the ability to find old contacts and to forge new ones capable of performing the search I required. Because before I was born into this life, as I fell through layers of existence towards this blue marble of a world, a voice whispered that Iadiel was here, also incarnate and walking this physical plane clad in flesh and bone.

With a spark another cigarette is lit and this time I inhale deeply, even as the other patrons scatter indoors away from rain now pelting the tables – drop after drop staining the envelope whose contained words will never run.

I have his name. I have his location.

So I sit in the wet with a coat still draped over the opposite chair. Breathing in the smoky heat while feeling the damp and the cold, I am lost in memories mine and not mine, mortal and divine. While sorrows mix with rage I stare both at the script glowing past the soaked paper and at the coat in whose pocket lurks the gun.

Creator help me. For having found him, I do not know what I will do.

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Comments

Wow.

Not quite sure what I was expecting here but wow. This was a great short story and provides an interesting perspective on another of the Angel's from your Call of the Light saga. Thank you for sharing.

Thanks!

Erisian's picture

This was rather darker than the books, more of a noir-ish no-holds-barred type piece. Probably not to everyone's taste as a result, but I'm glad some folks liked it! Thank you!

So rich, so emotionally charged

Nyssa's picture

This stands as a wonderful short story, but even more for those of us familiar with your Dawn of Light saga. Is it to be considered canon, or truly outside that story?

Yep!

Erisian's picture

It got some (slight) editing to better tie in, so yep it's canon with the books! Whether Iadiel and Raquiel make appearances later, well... we shall see! :D

Harmonic Resonance

Emma Anne Tate's picture

It feels like her human grief and loss tied so closely to her angelic memory that Azrael and Gabriel’s barriers could not hold. I wonder . . . Jordan was able to heal fallen angels by renewing their connection to the source. But that required an essential reorientation, causing the connection to route through her. Could she bring healing to Raquiel, without such a drastic course?

A puzzlement . . . One of many, in a saga chockablock full of puzzlement!

Emma

Puzzles

Erisian's picture

Raquiel hasn't fallen, as she's still connected to the Host...but depending on what she does she could potentially fall, as she's teetering upon that ledge. Healing a broken heart that is not ready to be healed may however be a rather tall order...

Thanks Emma!