“I wanted to do that, too, you know,” I whisper, hoping only Raphael will hear me. “Before all this, I was going to be a doctor. I was going to protect people, to give them relief from their pain… I don’t want to be the one tocausesuffering. Even if it’d minimize harm to the largest number of people.”
“I know, my child. It is a tragedy that your human life was robbed from you. As it is for your gift of mortality as well.”
“Gift?” I look at him strangely, but he nods, confirming I heard him correctly. “You do not believe immortality is good?”
“Death is not as awful as it may seem. Mortals suffer for a lifetime, but they are eventually granted true peace for the rest of eternity… An immortal’s toil, however, knows no end.”
We would suffer it together.
The last moments of my near-death experience echo back to me. The intense paradox I felt—like being given the strength of a supernova, but the hollowness of a black hole—I understand it now. I understand what my shadow was trying to tell me.
And, God,it hurts.
All this makeup, all this false bravado, and I still can’t hide how shaken I am by the thought of contending with reality forever. To live with everything I regret, everyone I’ve ever lost, and to never know peace… That’s not a blessing. That is acurse.
“Be still, dear child.” Raphael carefully touches my shoulder, and I can feel my heart rate slow down. The constriction in my lungs lifts, andcomfort envelops me once again. “I know you have many questions. You have much to learn, but it will not all happen at once.”
I swallow, trying to force some sense back into myself. The help he gives lends me enough strength to think of one more thing I can ask him. “Can you at least tell me what I can expect, now that I’m immortal? If I lose a limb, for example, would it grow back? And how long would it take?”
He chuckles a little, as if he finds my example humorous. It’s a soft, sweet sound that I can’t possibly be offended by. “I assume you will share many similarities with the lower angels. You will still feel the human sensations of your body, such as hunger and pain, so you will still need to take care of your physical form. But if your mortal body dies, your soul will not, and it will be harrowing to experience. Many naturally born angels have an attachment to their first body, taking its same form at every physical resurrection. It is the best way to stay grounded in your individual identity.”
“And in case of dismemberment?” I make a chopping motion on my forearm. I was completely serious with that example. These are important details. “What then?”
“Physical invincibility, along with healing from mortal injuries, are conscious efforts and skills that you will need to practice.” All humor drops from his face, replaced by concern. “Please do not go cutting off body parts to test your limits.”
I don’t know. That sounds like evenmoreof an argument for intentionally hurting myself to practice my self-healing in a controlled situation. But… I don’t want to scare the angel too much. “Right, of course. I’d never do something like that.”
He gives me an uncertain look, as if he doesn’t believe me one bit, but is too polite to push the issue. “You are strong, Kae. You will forge your own path. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah she is,” Dusk chimes in from across the table, and I can’t help but roll my eyes with a smile.
I resume my eating for a moment before pressing more questions. “So how do you guys know I’m like the lower angels? What if I am likethe archangels?”
“’Cause that’s not how it works, Dawn. You were born, not created. And you’re not innately invincible—yes, don’t make that face at me. I’m certain. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had a headache the moment you woke up.”
“Fine. That’s a fair point.” I still don’t buy the whole package, though. I’m not convinced that merging my soul with a semi-sentient ball of light doesn’t make me at leastpartiallycreated, but… I’ll hold off on the lofty potential for now. “So if you archangels are so invincible, then why do you all have weapons and armor?”
“I’ve already told you?—”
“I’d like to hear it from Raphael,” I cut Dusk off, holding up a knife in his direction. Of course, he has to overdramatize it, acting like I’m seriously threatening to cut him and holding his hands up in innocent submission.
“Our weapons and armor are the exceptions,” the healer replies somberly. “They’re for each other, not for worldly harm. They amplify strength and invincibility, but their effectiveness is dependent upon the wielder. For example, a nick from Malak’s greatsword might tear you apart, but not even scratch Michael.”
“Theoretically speaking, that is,” Dusk interjects. “I haven’t had a chance to try it out on him yet, unfortunately.”
I chuckle dryly, pushing my food around my plate. I think I’d like a chance to cut Michael, too, after the shit he pulled on me. I wonder if the dagger Dusk gave me would do the trick. Maybe I could gouge a little eye out, too. Since it’d grow back, after all…
Before I know it, Raphael gets up to leave, bidding us goodnight. I realize, then, that most of the table has left, and the food is getting cleared away. Before I lose my chance, I swipe a pastry covered with Abyss fruit to take with me.
I stand up, fully prepared to go sit with my thoughts—and my dessert—in peace. Dusk follows me, of course, but I already know I won’t be doing much talking on our brief walk together.
We’re about halfway across the room when the hall doors suddenlyburst open.
In walks Abaddon with a stranger.
The man looks strikingly similar to him, yet markedly different. Their black armor is nearly identical, their faces have a similar shape and features, and even their hair is close to the same. Except, however, one is brown instead of silver…
Most importantly, though, are thewings.
