“Don’t be foolish, Semyaza. Earth is insecure, and I will not continue to use the Abyss as a neutral meeting ground.”
I can almost physically see the fake nonchalance as it falls over him.
“However… there is an easy solution that I have the authority to decree.” Michael takes a dramatic pause, rising to his feet, and raises his voice to make an elevated announcement. “I hereby grant a pardon to the Profuga gathered here today. Henceforth, they will not face penance for their past transgressions in order to enter Elohim.”
Discourse breaks out in the room.
“A pardon!”
“…The Semyaza? In Elohim?…”
“They won’t last a day?—”
“—My kids won’t be safe!”
“Thank you,” Semyaza says with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. The room senses foul play, quieting into a murmur. The vultures in the stands are greedy for gossip. “I’m glad that’s taken care of. However, I won’t need to use it for this. Ramiel, please materialize.”
There are two seconds of shocked gaps and chatters while Semyaza raises his forearm—then a fuckingravenappears on it out of thin air.
The only angel on the side of the Elohim whodoesn’tlook surprised is none other than Michael.
“Ramiel,” he yawns, looking at the bird with disinterest. “I was wondering if you’d show your face sometime today. I suppose this…form…in which you prefer counts as a face. Is this you volunteering to communicate across multiple realms for us?”
The bird’s responding “Yes” is a low croaking imitation of human words.
“Now you have both my second and my third working for yourcause,” Semyaza says, almost like it’s a warning. “Surely that is enough to spare us from contempt in your dystopia.”
More discourse.
“They insult our home!”
“…Archangel of Multiplicity…”
“—Was here the whole time!”
“—Send them all back!”
“Enough,” Michael growls, immediately bringing the room to a dead silence. “One of Ramiel will be sufficient. Perhaps he will finally deign to have some children while in ourdystopiancity… Let us move on. Gabriel, feel free to spare my parched voice by sharing the official plan.”
Gabriel straightens, folding his hands in front of him on the table. I guess he doesn’t feel like standing up again?
“To secure the Holy Land and its gate to the Abyss, we will activate the 144,000 and take control of modern-day Israel and Palestine. The two witnesses, one for each country, will lead the humans. They will report directly to the mission’s commanding officer, Archangel Malak. We predict this should take no longer than seven days, even with considerable opposition.”
My stomach drops in an innate, physical fear response that can’t be smothered by Abaddon’s magic. I fear for Dusk. The Israelis and Palestinians aren’t just going to hand over their countries to a militant death cult like the 144k. No sane person would! It’d be a slaughter! There’s no way Dusk would ever agree to something like that…Right?
I search the crowd for his familiar face, but I struggle to find it as Michael continues speaking for his partner-in-war-crimes.
“Simultaneously, Kiba will assume a position within the U.S., since his son is preoccupied with infiltrating the GPO. Between Kiba and Malak,Eretz Yisraelshould be able to form an alliance with the first Babylon expeditiously.” He turns to look directly at me—not Dusk, butme—with a spiteful victory written on his face. “Isn’t that right, our restored Archangel of Lightning? You will commit yourself to the cause as fervently as Lyra’s grandfather?”
No, no, no?—
A familiarvoice comes from across the room, shattering me: “Yes, Principality Michael. I am honored to serve Elohim.”
“…As am I,” Kiba echoes solemnly.
I’m falling underwater. Intense fear, anger, sadness, and then?—
Nothing.
