Page 4 of The River of Fire
“Elioud?” I sound like a parrot, but in all of my studies of lore, I’ve never heard that word.
“All iterations of Celestial-human descendants.”
Everyone is looking at the faces around them, not knowing how to voice their denials. The men standing near the entrances to the atrium still haven’t spoken a word. And my curiosity might have been the end of me – If the end wasn’t already looming so obviously.
“And you?” I ask, “What are you? Why aren’t you taking care of this threat from your realm, if it’s out of control?”
“We are The Fallen,” says a blond, slimmer… Fallen? He steps forward and I register him as one of the few newcomers that were curious about us gathered here. “We fell from grace but repented and did not give into evil. We are free to walk among Purgatory and Hell, and even the mortal realm, but we are denied Elysium,” he continues, his head downcast. “And there are not enough of us to corral the manifestations made from corrupt human souls. They are breaching into the human realm. The archdemons and demon lords do not much care for the mortal world.”
Great, more myths come to life.
“Do we have a choice?” the solem-faced young man who spoke earlier asks.
“No,” says one of the disinterested Fallen with finality. “You do not.”
“We will teach you to fight the manifestations,” Maalik picks up again, “and also the demonic creatures you will encounter while carrying out your duty. You will be given quarters, train, and live here. This is your final destination, after all.”
“What do you mean?” the angry red-headed woman asks.
“There is no Heaven for Nephilim, nor for Cambion or other combinations of Elioud, of course,” Maalik says the latter to me.
“Regardless of how we live our life?” I ask. Surely that has to mean something?
“Regardless. We all share the same fate, some by action, and some as a birthright.”
I sit down on one of the two steps encompassing the atrium. I lean my head onto my hands and try to come to terms with thisnew reality, a part of me stubbornly hoping that this is all just a bad dream. A consequence of too much cheap beer.
A few of the humans are now shouting their refusal, making a couple of the Fallen sneer at them.
“My name is Daniel,” the blond says to me and the few others who are calm enough to listen. “You will be shown to your quarters. Then we will meet here once you rest and come to terms with your fate. There is no sunlight here; you will all have to abide by the same sleeping schedules while in training. We will divide you into teams based on your aptitude with close-quarter weapons, ranged weapons, and skills with the ether.”
“The ether?” I mumble into my hands, feeling too overwhelmed to lift my head. I want to cry and scream like some of the rest, but this feels too goddamn final.
“The power you wield over matter, which will manifest itself now that you are in this realm,” he answers, not unkindly. He seems to be more capable of empathy and takes less enjoyment in our despair than Maalik.
“I expect a couple of years of training will be needed for these sad lumps of clay,” one of the more savage-looking Fallen mocks.
Daniel gives him a reproachful look. “The Council chose you as one of the trainers, Ramel. If it takes years or not will be up to you.”
“What’s this council?” I ask Daniel, trying to gather some useful information and keep myself busy before I have a public emotional breakdown.
“The Celestials, both angels and demons, agree upon one thing, if nothing else. The mortal realm must remain in blissful ignorance of the fact that we can walk among them.” He’s looking down at my seated form with compassion.
“But why do the demons care? I get that angels are protecting thechildren of God,” I say, putting dramatic emphasis on the last part, “but I can’t see the demons giving a damn either way if they’re anything like mythology claims.”
“There are mindless demons, who live only to rip into the flesh of mortals, not having the capacity to even think of theconsequences of decimating their food source. Hell, however, is led by ancient archdemons; fallen angels from eons ago, as Sataniel was himself, or their progeny.”
A hysterical male voice sounds in the crowd. “This is just a nightmare. I’m going to wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!”
I shiver as the man’s scream turns into whimpers and think of the blonde angel’s words, of the mind-altering fact that the information I poured over during sleepless nights is not just a myth. There are creatures of fathomless age walking the realm just beyond this one, and I will be sharing air with them sooner or later. Is there air in Hell? I hope there is.
“Will they kill us?” I ask, and Daniel hesitates. I don’t like that hesitation one bit. The absence of sound echoed like a death knell.
“Some are on the Celestial council and agreed to this measure. Some are so old, that they do not even deign to acknowledge the world beyond the areas they govern. They should have been apprised of your presence and understand the need for it. Unfortunately, no one can vouch that they will place any measure of value on your lives.”
He’s honest and straightforward, though clearly choosing his words carefully. I’m sure the translation is: ‘They’ll squash you like bugs for a second of entertainment’.
“How do we fight them then?” I ask, intuiting the answer before he even raises his brows to reply: “You do not.”
