Thanks to the work of Kasfe and Anathalie, we have identified those Violences that attacked us.  It is our hope that with their names, Kasfe may be able to learn something about what has been happening with Asoharith.  Perhaps we may even be fortunate enough to find her.  I am not clinging too closely to that hope, though, as much faith as I have in my companions.  If there is one thing that I do know about Asoharith, it is how very cautious she is.

I did ask Orison about how Freya could help with the fight, and his answer was a simple one.  “When brought to bear, a human’s will is far stronger than that of an angel.  Remember also that Freya was a Seraph as an angel, and the knowledge of how to use the power of her soul is not entirely lost.”

“But I have never before heard of a human being able to directly attack a Fallen.”

“That is because so few of them come to have true faith in us,” Orison answered.  “They find different words to describe what they feel in the universe, and so they do not make such pointed attacks.  But Freya knows you, and so she can align her will with yours.”  He smiled.  “An unanticipated benefit to the revelation of your existence.”

I was uncertain how much of a benefit it would be, or rather I was worried what the consequences might be that came along with it.  Still, I told Freya all about it quite readily, because I believed that she would be glad to have some agency in the coming fight.

Once she’d read what I’d written, though, she was quiet, a faint frown on her brow.  “I still don’t really understand,” she said.  “You and Orison are both talking as if humans are more powerful than angels, and that doesn’t make any sense to me at all.”     

I was surprised. 

But that is the truth of things.  All humans are older souls than angels, and you make far more of an impact on the universe.

She laughed at that.  “But you can read my mind and move wherever you want in a blink and fight the Fallen.”

And yet I struggle to lift a pencil or tap a single key on your keyboard.

“As if that matters,” she scoffed.

It does matter.  Freya, the physical creation is the most wondrous of all things.  That energy can take real shape, can maintain that shape and influence other shapes around it—it is an amazement to all of us.  Only with the greatest effort can an angel make the smallest mark on this creation.  Humans have been doing it easily, with intention, for millennia.  You have been shaping and shielding and using this world, refining and recreating.  That is the greatest part of God’s plan, and it would be impossible without humans.

Freya pressed her fingers against her brow.  “So, what, God started it all and we’re supposed to finish it?”

She has always been able to get right to the heart of things. 

Yes, that is it exactly.

“But humans have done awful things.  Cruel, destructive things.  We do them every day.”

And that is the great horror of the Enemy’s work—that the very agents of history and creation can be turned against the wonder of it.  That is the reason for the Long Fight.  But while the plan of the universe can be delayed or diverted, it cannot be stopped.  It will come to the same end, just as originally intended.

 Freya studied this for a moment.  “How can you be sure that it will, though?”

I smiled at this. 

Because my vision is not obscured.  I am filled with the knowledge of God’s power, with that certainty. 

“And I’m not,” Freya said.  It wasn’t a question.  She got up to pace, turning the screen so she could still see it.  “So remind me—all angels become humans eventually, right?”

Yes.

“And when they do, this certainty of theirs—the understanding of the ways of the universe—is hidden from them?  Where’s the logic in that?  It’s doubt that makes humans fall, isn’t it?”

True, but it is also doubt that gives you your power. 

She blinked at that, then shook her head.  “You’ve lost me.”

Freya, you are talking to an angel right now.  Even though you have not seen me in battle, you have felt the effects for yourself.  And yet would you say that you believe in God?

She didn’t answer, but I could feel a faint guilt in her—she did not want her honesty to hurt me.

I am not offended either way.  It’s easy to believe in me when I am here.

“Says the disembodied voice on my computer screen,” she said ruefully. I put a wing around her and gave her a squeeze. 

Even me, you doubt.  And yet just days ago, you closed your eyes and you put your full faith in me.  Despite the possible ramifications of being wrong—the judgment or worry of your friends, the heartbreak of loneliness or the fear of madness—you threw your will behind me.  And the power of that choice healed my wounds and gave me the strength to win.

She stood very still, letting this move through her spirit.  “Faith,” she murmured. 

That is the key.  That is the true power of the universe.

Her eyes were stretching wide as she nodded.  “And you can’t have real faith, because you know what’s going to happen.  But since I don’t know, not for sure…”

It means that any choice you make has greater impact.  It is your own entirely.

“Even with your influence?  And the influence from the other side, too?  Because I can’t say that they haven’t touched me.”

We can hint, or cajole, or persuade, but we cannot command you.  Your uncertainty, your doubt, protects you from that.

She stiffened.  “Does that mean you have more power over me because I know you now?”

Does not a word from a friend always have more meaning than one from a stranger?  And we have already proved that in your heart there is a shred of doubt.  No matter what I say or do, you will never be completely sure.  Faith and doubt work far more closely than people understand, and that is as it should be. 

Exhaling, Freya sank down onto the side of the bed.  “This is going to take me some time to absorb,” she said.  “It’s hard to think that between the two of us, I’m the stronger one.  Here I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

That is my role and my honor.  We each have our strengths, and mine will always be at your service.

Reading that, one side of her mouth quirked up.  “You do have a way with words, Ace,” she said.  She rubbed her eyes and turned the covers down.  “Okay.  Let me sleep on this, and then we should talk about how we can take advantage of this.  Because if I can help with this long fight of yours, I definitely should.”

I thought you might say as much.

She smiled at the pride I revealed to her, but also noticed the spike of worry.  “Hey, we’re in this together,” she reminded me.  “I’m not about to risk losing my hotline to the cosmos.”  She closed the laptop, switched off the light, and curled up against the pillow.  Then she laughed.  “My life is so weird.”

“At least you are not alone in it,” I reminded her.

She tipped back her head.  “Good night, Ace.”

And because of that wish, it was.  But that wasn’t the power of a human—simply that of a friend.