Ishim
Again, I wake with no clear memory of what occurred during sleep. No dream, that’s for sure. I was told that when the dream happens, I would be fully aware of it and remember every last detail. All that took place last night was the same old colors and shapes. There was distant music in the background, and for a split second, I think maybe that was enough—that the music in my human subconsciousness would constitute a dream. But no. No such luck. As I stretch my arms over my head and my hearing comes into full awareness, I realize the music I hear is Revalia singing. The songs of angels are beyond human comprehension, and I am grateful that the ability to create harmonies, melodies, and full-blown symphonies from one source was not taken away when we were packaged in the flesh. Revalia’s choir is glorious. I surmise she’s back to herself today, which is good because it pained me to see her so … lost.
“Dream?” she calls over her shoulder as I enter the kitchen.
I give a “thumbs down” motion of my hand, and she crinkles her nose.
“Sorry,” she says as her mouth turns down, “but that was a great ‘person-gesture!’”
I bow my head. “Why, thank you. Glad to see you’re feeling better. Beautiful chorus.”
“Thanks. Hope it didn’t wake you.”
“That’s fine. Nothing like some splendid music to start the day.” I pause for a second, studying her movements, hoping to glean a sense of her disposition, but she’s cut off from me, busying herself around the kitchen with last-minute rituals before we have to head to class. I come up behind her and tap her shoulder. She spins around, almost frantically, and catches my gaze. Her wings are tucked in again.
I clasp onto her shoulders and look her dead in the eyes, “Are you feeling better?”
She smiles, but it looks rather forced, “I’m fine,” she says. “Can we go, now?”
I nod my head, and we leave.
When we arrive at our meeting place, our classroom if you will, the other angels are standing around whispering hurriedly to each other. I choose to ignore them; their gossipy ways are infantile to me, too human in a way that makes me cringe. One thing I do not love about people is their tendency to hurt one another, and my brethren have sadly taken to that trait all too quickly. I know they’re speculating about what transpired between Camael and me, and I know they’re wondering why Revalia has been brooding as of late.
Camael appears as I hear Thalis say, “I think she was hanged in the sky.” Again, referring to my “punishment” for something they are desperately trying to figure out because they are not privy to my thoughts and know not of the word I thought. This is a good thing because, I think if they knew, it would upset them and possibly make them fearful of me. Human thoughts are best private. If I had wanted them to hear it, I would have spoken it out loud. I guess that’s a benefit of being in a human shape. I guess that’s why Revalia had reveled in her privacy and forced me into giving her so much attention while I pulled information out of her last night—she was being … human.
“Ishim,” he says, silencing the class. The others who are still standing scramble for their seats. “Ishim, Ishim, Ishim,” he repeats as the final stragglers find their desks. “Tell me. Ishim.”
I don’t like sitting in front very much because it always forces me to turn my head around when someone else offers a response, but no one’s responding now. No one has an answer. Oddly, no one wants to say anything. Is there a sense of fear now, or is that a general boredom that has descended upon the room? I’d raise my hand now, but I honestly don’t want to talk. I bet Camael is in everyone’s head right now, scanning our thoughts, sensing the reason behind the blanketed apprehension.
“Lozhure? Heariah? Anyone?” He fishes, but there’s still no response. “Come on, my stars, this is an important concept, and we’ve gone over it many times.”
Finally, Thalis speaks up. “Ishim. A human soul granted entrance into Ilarium.”
“Thank you for participating, Thalis.” Camael praises. “You are correct. Here is where the humans are unclear on the fate of their spirit, their souls, their breath. If the Cherubim deem a human soul worthy, they will be given the status of Ishim for the rest of time. The Ishim are angelic creatures, but they are not technically angels. They are given wings, and a certain range of power to see the physical world, to look over their progeny, and to experience the advancements of the human condition, but they do not have the full extent of knowledge and grace as we do. As angels, we can interact with the Ishim, which of course, will be beneficial to you if you are able to reunite with your calling. And when a soul is not deemed worthy of Ilarium? What is to become of that person’s breath?”
“They are re-absorbed into the breath of the Divine Creator. They cease to exist,” someone behind me calls out.
“Yes. There is an expression often used in the human lexicon: Lights out. Learn that expression. Know its meaning and be able to use it in conversation, but do not reveal to them the truth behind it, for faith in their soul’s immortal and divine existence after death is sometimes all a person has. And whether or not they will be blessed with that privilege is truly something that happens the moment of their earthly passing. It is not ours to take that hope from them.”
I nod my head in agreement. I take what Camael says very seriously, very literally. The last thing I want is to betray my oath as a higher being, and I have pledged my love to the Creator, to Camael, and to the human race that I will do what it takes to serve them.
“And so,” he continues, “as they ready themselves for their calling, they have been too focused in their teachings. I was waiting until the right time to tell you this, but Revalia and Lozhure, your first callings have been granted entrance into Ilarium. When you both return from your second mission, we will have a proper reunion for all of you.”
Camael is smiling; his light shines through the entire room with a glittery brilliance. I turn to Revalia, who is not. In fact, her face darkens as the others stare in wonder. Is she in shock? Some of the others start to clap, but something inside me says that might not be the appropriate reaction at the present time. I get the sense that Revalia is not at all happy about this. Then, I glance over at Lozhure. He, too, is motionless in his seat, eyes fixed on the floor, a sense of unease darkening his aura. Camael waves his hand, and everyone stands to leave.
A quick lesson today. A harsh lesson today. Camael glances over at me and furrows his brow as if to say he heard me. I know he heard me, but I can’t help thinking the truth. I can’t help thinking that Revalia is somehow being tested, or punished, or…
Camael catches my eye yet again, raises a finger to his lips, silences me, silences my thoughts, and leaves. I leave too, and this time it’s Revalia who stays behind.
I sprawl out on my bed, letting my wings hang over the sides. The manufactured gravity in my environment pulls on each individual feather, making my shoulders ache from the noticed weight. I know my wings will be released from me when I embark on my journey, the final act of my temporary human transformation. The tips of my wings touch the floor as I swish them back and forth on the wood surface. Sleep will not come to me anytime soon, so I’m left here to think, to daydream, and to ponder.
Revalia.
My dear, sweet friend. I have no idea how to help her or what words to say to her to get her through this troublesome time. I thought for sure when Camael announced her first calling was now an Ishim she would have been thrilled, but again, what do I know? I wasn’t there. I didn’t experience what she did. I have no knowledge of the pain of her loss. What I do know is that she tried her best, and that’s all we can do, right?
Revalia’s first calling was to a twelve-year-old girl who was being severely bullied by her classmates. Revalia had completed her training, was given the shape of a twelve-year-old girl, and set out on her mission to give the young one a new viewpoint on the world and to reassure her that there were good people out there. Unfortunately for Revalia, her child was far beyond reach—more so than anyone had anticipated, and she committed suicide before Revalia could complete her assignment.
I know this must have devastated Revalia to the core. A failed calling. A lost life. It was very rare, but it did happen from time to time. I guess I never understood the extent to which it affected her because when she returned, she was immediately sequestered and counseled at The Observatory, and returned to training for her second calling. She didn’t talk much about the incident, and I, trying to be a loyal and understanding friend, never pushed the issue.
But maybe I should have? Maybe I should have pressed her into opening up to me. Maybe I should have poked and prodded her with questions to force her to confront her own emotions, rather than bottling them up and going about her daily life as if nothing happened, but she’s good at hiding her feelings, so I never thought to…
I hear the door to the apartment open up, and voices echo down the corridor. It’s Revalia and Lozhure. I recognize the deep bass notes of his voice. She’s giggling at something he said, and she sounds so human that it startles me a bit. The two of them have been very close lately, and it stands to reason considering they are both heading out on calling number two. Apparently, Lozhure had a similar situation where his first calling suddenly passed away before the mission was over, but I don’t know the details of his incident. The two of them have bonded over this—their almost parallel experiences drawing them closer in understanding and compassion.
That is another human characteristic entirely. Camael taught us that when humans experience similar events in their lives, it creates a sense of camaraderie among them. Tragedy, love, life, death—complete strangers striking up conversations at grocery stores, women having a sense of fellowship over the birth of children, the loss of a parent or loved one creating an air of familiarity. It is empathy that allows them to understand each other on a deeper level and to connect.
All of a sudden, I realize their voices have gone silent, so I get up from my bed and make my way into the living area. When I get there, the sight before me makes me a little uncomfortable. Lozhure is sitting on the couch with Revalia lying across his lap. His shimmering indigo wings are covering her entire body in a feathery embrace. Their cheeks are pressed against each other, and their eyes are closed. Lozhure’s long brown hair is entwined with hers— I can’t tell where hers begins and his ends. They are both grinning softly, and while I can’t see either of their bodies, there is slight movement from underneath Lozhure’s wings.
“Lia?” I call to her.
They both open their eyes and glance over at me. I’ve startled them, but they don’t change their position.
Revalia smiles. “Hey, Aestra, I didn’t know you were home.”
“I was in my room, resting. I heard you guys come in and…”
“Why don’t you come and sit with us?” Lozhure says. He lifts one of his wings as if to make room for me. I hesitate, uncomfortable. I’m not one to turn down an angel’s embrace, but there was something different about the way they were holding each other—something that didn’t feel quite right.
Revalia’s eyes beam. Her pink aura is pulsating rapidly, “Yes, Aestra! You must! Come sit with us. We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Before I can answer their invitation, I tuck in my wings and take a seat on the small chair beside the couch. I place my elbows on my knees and nestle my face in my palms as I inch closer to Revalia. “Tomorrow? How do you know?”
“Camael told us after everyone left. Both of us. Lozhure and I are descending tomorrow evening.” Lozhure covers Revalia in his wing again, and her eyes flutter shut. She giggles, and her body jerks slightly before she looks back into my eyes.
I’m nervous for Revalia, nervous for her next descent. I have so much I want to talk about with her and so many thoughts are going through my head, but all I can blurt out is, “Will you visit with your Ishim before you go?”
Revalia tenses, looks up at Lozhure, and shakes her head.
“You?” I ask, addressing Lozhure.
He shakes his head as well. “Aestra, the dreamless wonder,” he says, and Revalia sends an elbow into his chest. His tone of voice makes me cringe; it’s dripping with humanity, not the good kind. His words have a biting sting to them that makes me uneasy. “You know, Camael can’t read our dreams. No one can. He knows that we have them and when we have them, but he has no idea what’s going on in our transforming minds. Makes sleep-time even more private.” He leans into Revalia’s neck, his hair passing in front of her face, and he inhales her aura. I watch the light intensify by his lips and fill the backs of his cheeks with a ruddy glow as he sucks her into himself. Revalia exhales loudly as her eyes flutter shut once more. I hate feeling confused, but that’s the only word that I can describe to what I’m feeling right now. Angels embrace and transfer their auras to each other as a sign of love, but this display of affection between them is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“But your Ishim,” I interrupt.
“What about her?” she responds.
“Wouldn’t you want to see her? Speak with her? Show her your love and guidance?”
“No.” Revalia’s response is flat and uncaring.
No? No? My head swims. “I thought that you would want to. And since you’ll be leaving so soon, I thought you would want some…”
“What?” she snaps. “Closure?”
I nod.
“You can’t understand, Aestra. I failed that girl, and the only thing I feel is regret. The last thing I want is to confront her. Actually, her being in Ilarium is bad for me, and going back to Earth right now is the only good I can see. I won’t have to think about her. I don’t expect you to understand. Lozhure knows what I mean. It’s like a part of me died or something; a part of me stopped existing when I lost her.”
“So, wouldn’t that be all the more reason to see her again? To make that part of you come back to life?”
“She doesn’t want that part to come back to life,” Lozhure interjects. “And neither do I.”
This revelation sends chills throughout my body. My feathers flutter and face down from my body’s tension. Revalia stands up and arches her back. “Let’s go,” she says.
I shake my head in bewilderment. “What? Where? What are you talking about?”
“I want you to see something. Give you a taste. Maybe then you’ll understand a little bit better.” She outstretches her arm, and I clasp my hand in hers.
“Where are we going? What are you going to show me?”
She looks over at Lozhure with a side smile. Her eyes flash with a brilliant pink light, but I detect a menacing sensation in the gaze.
“The Observatory,” Lozhure says.
“The Observatory?” I repeat in disbelief.