What if there was more to it, more that the Council wasn’t saying? What if Lila was correct that he shouldn’t trust them? Correct, like she normally was.
What if this was his peak? What if making it to the Council was the most impressive thing he’d ever accomplish? More than ever, he felt the pressure to produce something astonishing. More than ever, he doubted that he could do it alone to any degree of satisfaction.
The questions hung over him, unwelcome portents.
For the first time in his existence, Luc felt…afraid.
“Ah! There you are!”
Luc whirled to the right.
Hadri was striding toward him through the open entrance of the Great Hall, the levity in his face jarring Luc from his troublesome thoughts. Luc straightened himself, though not as much as he would have for anyone else. Fortunately, as the outgoing Council architect, Hadri was giving the tour alone, and he needed no impressing.
Unfortunately, Luc could tell he was in one of his jolliest moods. Indeed, as the bearded angel approached, he asked how the festivities had gone, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of all the entertaining details.
“Ah! Revelry! When I was a young angel…” Hadri rubbed his hands together. “Well, never mind. How was it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Luc answered, keeping his face carefully neutral. “I left early. Right after the banquet.”
“Oh?” Hadri frowned. “That’s too bad. It only happens once, you know.”
“Nonsense.” Luc allowed himself a wince. “I’m sure eternity will be filled with exhausting social events.”
“That I can agree with. I’m not much for schmoozing myself.”
Luc eyed him skeptically.
“You might not be much for it, but you’re quite good at it.”
“Aeons of practice.” Hadri smiled. “Shall we get on with the tour?” He gestured toward the back of the building.
“Of course. Lead the way.”
At this directive, Hadri headed for the hallway that connected the main building of the Great Hall to the Artisanal Chamber, and Luc followed him, lagging a few paces behind.
Once there, they didn’t linger long in the massive chamber. Hadri pointed out Luc’s assigned seat at a round marble table that hadn’t been there during his graduation ceremony; he reviewed the general order of proceedings in each meeting; he gave Luc an overview of each Council member’s quirks and dislikes. When he said nothing of Michael, Luc asked after the dour angel.
“Michael, uh….” Hadri scratched his beard and paced on the other side of the round table. “Well, he’s made mostly of dislikes. Consider yourself very fortunate if he favors any of your ideas.”
“But he’s the Council head.” Luc leaned against the table. “How am I supposed to get anything done that way?”
“He may be the head, but everything is decided by a majority vote. You must persuade others to your side. You are no longer merely a scientist or an artist.” Hadri lowered his voice, at the same time increasing its intensity. “Youare a representative for all the angels who would benefit from your ideas. You mustfightfor them.” Hadri’s brow creased, the urgency in his eyes saying more than his mouth. Luc hadn’t known that Hadri could look so serious.
He wondered what the older angel had fought for.
“I see.” Luc considered, then mentioned, dumbly, “Like a lessons presentation?”
“If you want to think of it that way, yes. A very high stakes lessons presentation.” Hadri chuckled, regaining his normal good humor. “But enough about that.” He waved his comments away. “We haven’t yet gotten to the most important part of the tour. Let us go to the Library.”
Present Aeon
After so much time, Luc could admit that Lila had been right to distrust the Council. He could no longer be angry at her for thinking his trust in them foolish.
Since his induction into their ranks, he’d learned that many of the common angels’ beliefs about the Council and its connection to the Creator were flawed. But more than that, over time, the Council had grown increasingly disinterested in Luc’s ideas and secretive about any plans that didn’t directly involve him. Knowledge was being withheld from him, though if it was due to his age as the youngest Council member, or due to his propensity for praising the old ways, or due to Michael’s influence, he couldn’t say. He was a visionary in a world that was growing more and more insular, concerned solely with protecting what already existed. A world that had no need of a chosen one and the changes that individual might bring about.
He didn’t understand why their hopes for him had died out; had he not given enough of himself? Had he not studied and toiled over his projects as a student and as an architect, to the exclusion of all else? Had he not striven to fulfill the purpose of his existence by whatever means he could, even while not knowing what that purpose was? Could they not just tell him what they wanted from him? He was done with trying to guess.
Meanwhile, the Creator, whom Luc had never spoken to directly,seemed indifferent to the angels’ affairs. Truly, He might not have cared to be bothered with the soul-split woes of a single angel.
