Nightmare during the Night Flight

Tonight should be a night for triumph and victory, for celebration and hope.  It should be the moment in which I commemorate my first year as a Guardian, which has been so very eventful and held so much change for me.  It should not be a time for anger, and that makes me all the more angry.

Of course, the Fallen would know that this is the night that the ranks of heaven take their flight.  One would think that this would encourage them to go into hiding, and my seniors have told me that this is usually the case.  Apparently, however, Asoharith was daring enough to take advantage.

I was so excited to take my place among the Cherubs.  To see the flight not from the rearguard, but at the van, was a privilege of which I felt myself unworthy.  But I carried my own bow and quiver, made for me alone by the Father’s hand, and I knew that I belonged with them.

As before, we gathered in our rows, rank on rank of the warriors of heaven, and as before Syebo came to see us off with his sword aflame, and as before Salathiel led the charge down into the darkness.  And at that point it was different, for now I could see the ranks of the Fallen that waited for us.

Kasfe told me that it is only those who are in disfavor among the Enemy who must go to battle on the night of the Guardians’ flight.  Their numbers were pitiful in comparison to ours, and their fear stank in the night air.  But she also told me that any of them who can prove they have killed one of our own—and it has happened before—will be accepted back into the Enemy’s army with honor.  And so they fought with desperation and fierce hatred, and it was not an easy fight.

I was not in the thick of the battle.  According to the orders of Orison, I stayed back with the others who carried ranged weapons, and so I could see all the ugliness of the fight.  I prefer not to linger on it now, only that there were no deaths on our side, and that it did not last long. 

Long enough, though.

One of the Fallen had broken from the fight and fled past our line, and I went after it with all speed.  As I came up to it, though, a voice broke into my mind, full of urgency and fear.  “Asa’el!” Taralom cried.  “You have to go to Freya!”

Fear filled my heart, icy cold, and I stopped short in my flight.  Feeling the fear, my quarry stopped, too, and then it wheeled and struck out at me with claws and fangs.

I beat my wings all at once and flew over its head, catching it by the base of the wings.  Even as I dispatched it to nothingness, I was stooping towards Freya.  I do not think I have ever flown so quickly.

I suppose I must applaud the boldness of the plan.  Yes, we were abroad in force this evening, but it also meant that for a brief time, Freya was vulnerable.  Thank our great Father that Taralom thought to check on her!  I still feel cold when I think of the closeness of it.

When I arrived, Freya’s room was dark, and she was lying rigid in her bed, her heart racing with terror.  Crouched over her was a skeletal figure with oily hands pressed to her face and her chest.  A Nightmare.

It leapt up at sight of me and spread great batlike wings, dislodging its jaw in an unholy shriek.  The fear of it struck me hard, but my anger was like a shield.  I dragged it away from Freya, but it slid from my grip and scrambled across the ceiling. 

There it paused for a final taunt.  “Asoharith sends her love, Cherub,” it hissed, and bounded off into the night.

With my bow in hand, I strode to the window, sighted, and loosed.  There was a muffled squawk, and then nothing.

I had to stand very still and quiet by the window before I felt calm enough to turn back to Freya.  By this time the visions and fear of the creature had passed, but she still lay tense, curled up with her back to me. 

I spread my wings over her, and her tightly curled shoulders relaxed.  She took a deeper breath. 

“I am sorry,” I told her.  “But it will not trouble you again.  You will be safe this night.”

She should have been safe all along, particularly on this night.  This is our night, and there should never have been a question of her being at risk.  It is one insult too many, and Asoharith will pay for it.  I will find her, and I will end her without a shadow of regret.  And then, at last, Freya will be safe.