When I touched down at Esther’s this afternoon, all four of my friends were waiting for me on the back porch. I did not receive the usual greeting, though.
“Oh, holy fuck,” Kara exclaimed, jumping up from her seat.
George flinched, and not just because of the profanity, though he did grimace at his wife. Esther covered her face, unable to breathe for a moment.
But Freya got to her feet, staring at me, tears growing in her eyes. “Oh, Ace,” she whispered. “You’re…”
“I know,” I said, smiling, though I still felt shy of the sixth wing. It was not something I asked for or felt that I deserved.
But the Regal Eye—that is nothing but a blessing. Ever since the battle, there has been a hole in my heart, and this warmth, this grace, has filled it perfectly. I feel full, in a way that I never did before. It is as if I have been completed at long last.
In Freya’s eyes, I could see the reflection of myself. I burned brighter than ever before, stood taller, and my wingspan—all six of them! It still feels so strange—stretched farther. The deep black of the Lower Eye in my brow was stark against the brightness, and red scars in my chest, my side, and around my eyes were easily visible. And now there was a core of iridescence over my heart, the only part of me that was not painful to look at.
“Okay, very impressive,” Kara said, shading her eyes, “but is there any way you could tone it down a little?”
“Actually,” I said, my smile growing, and I passed a hand over the Regal Eye. Then I stood on the porch and watched their eyes flit downwards, blinking in astonishment. Freya put her hands to her mouth.
“It’s a gift that comes with the Regal Eye,” I explained, my voice holding no more strange echo in the air than their own. The words were clear, but the feeling of tongue and teeth, air over lips, was still so bewildering. “Messengers of the King often have to walk the Earth, to be seen but unremarked. Peronel taught me. It has its limitations, of course, but if I am careful…” I stepped forward, drawing on all my experience of physicality, and reached out a stubby, freckled hand. The one empty chair at the table slid out, and I settled into it, meeting their stares with my own, human eyes.
I wonder if this face, which I too stared at in awe just hours before, will be the one I have when someday I come to this Earth to live? This pale, long-nosed young man with a gentle smile and hooded eyes—and of course, bright red hair. I would be content with that.
Freya sat down next to me, and I watched her movements, understanding as I never did before how they were accomplished. Her breathing was unsteady as she reached out her hand, and it was the strangest and yet easiest thing I have ever done to turn over my own hand and fold her fingers into mine.
“You feel…different,” she murmured. “Like I can tell something’s not right.”
I drew my hand away, afraid to even squeeze her fingers for fear of breaking them. “We are advised not to touch anyone. Most people can tell at a touch what they cannot at sight or sound.”
Nothing would do, then, but for the others each to touch me. I could not feel their touch as they could mine—this was, after all, only an imperfect façade. Still, there was something truly lovely about being able to sit with them, to shake their hands, to speak and feel the sound of my voice wavering in the air. A blessing I had not looked for, but blissful nevertheless.
“Well,” Esther said after their examination was done, “that’s all wonderful, but I’d still like to hear about the reason for all this.”
“Yes, please,” George said, leaning forward with familiar eagerness. “Tell us about the Court. Were there Saints there, or angels, or both? Were you the only one being seen or did you have to wait in line?”
“Does God have a beard?” Kara quipped, resting her chin in her hand.
I tried to mimic the gesture, missed the first time, and finally managed the careful stacking of head on hand on elbow on table. Kara and I grinned at each other.
“What did he say to you, Ace?” Freya asked.
Just that question was enough to take me back to that miraculous moment. I closed my eyes. “There aren’t words,” I said, and there aren’t. But I tried to find some that might come close.
“The Presence is not a throne room, despite the human stories. The only thing that comes close is the feeling of it—that sensation of coming before something so powerful, the focus of so many hopes and wishes and prayers. But really, it was just an open space with a taste of sweetness in the air, where my wings felt lighter and my feet wanted to dance and my heart began to sing. Despite the agony of fear and unworthiness I had felt all that time, the moment I came before the King, all of that was gone.
“I couldn’t see them,” I told them. “Just the shape of them in the light.”
“Them?” Kara repeated.
“Of course. They are more than one person, and always connected. And their spirit was perfectly balanced.”
George turned to Esther. “Ace told us once that angels experience masculine and feminine, which is why they use ‘he’ and ‘she’, but it’s definitely a spectrum for them. Any angel close to the middle of the spectrum is called a ‘balanced’ spirit, and they’re very respected in heaven.”
Kara slapped his shoulder. “No tangents. Es, if you want to take notes on anything you don’t get, he can explain it later.”
Esther laughed. Freya was still watching my face. My hand was sitting close to hers, and every so often she would slide hers forward so her fingertips bumped against the side of my hand. It was very distracting.
“There were other angels there, and Saints, too,” I went on. “It was a room, I think, with a ceiling and a floor, but the walls were too far to see, and everything was indistinct. I think even with the Regal Eye there was much there that I could not perceive. Maybe you would have seen more.” I smiled at Freya. “Someday you will.”
Freya returned my smile with one of her best.
“Quit with the goo-goo eyes and get with the good stuff,” Kara demanded. “Don’t make me separate you two.”
That made us laugh, and in the wake of laughter it was easier to tell. In fact, I think that was the taste in the air around the King—laughter.
“The light stood taller than any angel, and brighter, but it didn’t hurt my eyes to look,” I went on. “And when they called out to me—”
I had to stop a moment and shake with the wonder of that call. To hear my name, directly from the mouth of the Creator…
“It was everything,” I said inadequately. “Their voice was no louder than mine is now, and yet it silenced the world. I forgot that anyone else existed.”
Except Freya, because God’s voice sounded a bit like hers. But I will tell her that another time.
“What did they say?” Esther whispered.
I closed my eyes again. The words are still written in me.
I am so glad that your heart is healed, Asa’el. Have your doubts vanished as completely as your injury?
“I wanted to answer with eloquence,” I told my friends ruefully, “but the truth spilled out of me without any hindrance—that I did not feel worthy, that I did not understand why heaven had been put at risk just to save me.” I shook my head, feeling the muscles of my neck move against the soft collar of my white shirt. How strange it all was!
“And then—they put their hand on my brow.”
That one touch, so gentle, made me forget all of the darkness and pain I have ever experienced—but not the goodness and love I won through that darkness and pain. And when the hand lifted again, it all came back, but it felt easier to bear.
There have been so many of my children who could not be saved. You were not one of them, and I am grateful for that.
“I understood much from that,” I explained. “Most importantly, that power cannot be used without consequences, and that due to promises made with the founding of this world—” I smiled at my friends. “In a way, you accomplished something that God could not. They are grateful to you, too, all of you.”
I lifted my arm and made a sweeping motion over the table. Four small books appeared in front of each of them, looking almost exactly like Freya’s address book.
“This is their gift to each of you, which I am charged to deliver,” I said. “These books are connected to the Repository, the gathering of all knowledge and memory that angels, humans, and Saints have experienced since the beginning of time.”
“Oh, holy fuck,” George said and snatched it up, flipping through its thin pages.
I laughed. “You’ll find that no page is the same twice. They can be used to answer questions, to spark inspiration—to send messages,” I added and gave Kara a significant look. I’m not certain, but I believe her father was one of the Saints attending the King when I was there.
She swallowed and reached for her own book.
“And of course,” I added, looking at Freya, “the entire body of my work is there to be read.”
Our whole story, from beginning to—well, not the end, for I have been assured that we have long years together yet to come. That assurance was my gift, and the one for which I am most grateful.
Freya ran her hand reverently over the cover of the little book. “The book of everything,” she said.
“How precious,” Esther said, pressing hers to her chest. “What a gift!”
“Guard them carefully,” I warned them. “God never takes back the gifts that he gives, but if they are seen by someone else, they will go blank, and I don’t know if the knowledge will return.”
They all nodded, and there were a few quiet moments then, broken only by the breeze and the turning of pages. I did not mind the silence. My façade may have been limited, but it was still the first time I had come anywhere near truly feeling the wind, the heat of the sun seeping through my hair. It was bliss.
Presently, though, Freya looked up at me again. “What else did they say to you, Ace?”
Tears came to my eyes, and I repeated the last message from my King.
You were cruelly used by one you loved, and that is a weight you will carry with you through all your lives. But that cruelty was hers and not yours, and the weight does not make you less, nor does it make you more. It simply is. What makes you more than you were is your response to it. I believe I shall be very proud of what you make of yourself, Asa’el.
I met Freya’s gaze. “And then they smiled and asked, ‘Or should I say, Ace?’”
She laughed softly and reached out a hand to touch the tears running down from my eyes. A droplet stuck to her finger for a moment before vanishing away, and she rubbed her finger softly as if she could still feel it.
“So what now?” she asked. “What will you do now?”
“What I have always done,” I said, shrugging. It is a lovely, dismissive gesture, and much easier without the weight of wings. “The Long Fight is not over. There are still many Fallen out there, and though they are yet in hiding, soon they will come out again, angry at their defeat. I will have work to do my whole life long.”
I got to my feet, which, when one is sitting in a chair at a table, is a bit more complicated than it looks. But I managed it, and stood smiling at all of them—but one especially. “But I will also have time to enjoy this earth and learn of its wonders.” And I held out my hand to Freya.
She took it, and then she jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. My balance was not equal to this, and we collapsed onto the porch, a tumble of legs and arms and bashed heads.
“Sorry,” I said as the others laughed. “I am still not used to this.”
Rubbing her head, she pushed back to her feet and bent over to beam at me, her hair falling all around my face, the exact color of her glowing aura. “Practice makes perfect,” she said and offered me her hand.
I took it, and she lifted me up to stand beside her. Esther and the Seilers sat out in the autumn sunshine to do a bit of reading, while Freya and I went for a walk, hand-in-hand.
What wonders can be found in such simple things. What blessed simplicity there is, even in wonders.