Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

The Spaces in Between

 

After a brief time convincing the nurses and Annaleah's doctor that she was well enough to return home, she and Seth soon found themselves gathering up her few personal items prior to her discharge. Smiling through several endearing well wishes from the attending nurses and Uncle John himself, Seth led Annaleah out of the hospital and towards home.

"I still can't believe you, Seth, my oldest and dearest friend, are actually the arch angel Gabriel," Annaleah confessed, her green eyes wide with awe. "I mean, after all this time, shouldn't I have been able to tell that you were something special, something more than Seth, my old buddy? I'm an occult scholar for crying out loud!"

Seth smiled and reached across the seat to pat her hand reassuringly. "I understand how you could feel that way. Really though, if I wanted you to see me this way, then there is little choice on your part but to see me this way. That being said, I do have to exert some power and control in order for us both to be in human form around each other. It throws our vibrations off, to be clothed in what we refer to as "glamour." It's not our real form. It's just pretty illusions. The body you wear right now isn't your true form. It has been a constant effort to keep you as you are now, in order for you to fit in, but also for your protection. It’s not something I’m doing as a power play, or to fool you, though I’m sure you know that."

Annaleah remained silent, digesting what Seth had told her, before she asked, "So, what is my true form then? What if I want to lose the glamour and see myself as I truly am? I have always felt different Seth, you know that, but to have it reaffirmed in such a dramatic way is a bit overwhelming."

"Of course it is," Seth assured her, watching the road ahead as he drove the short distance to her home. "A lot of what is about to occur is going to fit snugly into the category of overwhelming, but it can't be helped. Things are happening now Annaleah, and as mind boggling as they may be, you must be strong. There is much more to tell you. I think it’s time for you to know your true form, though I imagine the dream I sent you has given you a good idea of that which you truly are. I have long known of your unease within your own body, and, as beautiful as it is, it is not your true form. You look a lot like your human mother, with her petite and graceful form. You resonate a lot with your father's power as well, and this is good. When we get to your house, let’s be quick to prepare for the ritual. Your father wishes to bless you for the upcoming battles. I’ll stand outside of the circle in my angelic form; this will help you to lose the glamour I have so long placed over you and to emerge as that which you truly are."

"As enthusiastic as I am about all of this, I haven't drawn a circle in a long time," Annaleah said quietly, "I'm not sure even where to do it, in a space that I consider sacred enough."

"No worries there, dear one; the clearing in the woods that appears in your dreams is more than just dream scenery. It actually does exist, though in a space that is made more out of dream materials than out of the real physical world that we’re in now. Let me see if I can explain it a bit better." Seth grabbed Annaleah's hand and laced his fingers through hers loosely. "Let's say that our fingers represent the physical world, and the spaces in between our fingers and our hands is the esoteric, dream like world. They exist very close to each other, and in certain times, when the atmosphere or day of the moon or year is right, the gaps become more volatile and physical, until they overlap with the real world enough to be seen or felt. Holy days make them more solid, like Halloween or the Summer Solstice. Anyway, right now, the spaces in between are becoming more dense and vibrating at such a rate that the doorway can be opened. The clearing in the woods is truly there now, beyond the path, waiting for you to draw your circle there."

"That makes sense, in a way." Annaleah said, "I have had some very intense experiences there, but before all this happened, I never dreamed of the clearing."

"There was no need for you to. It existed before. This is where Uncle John found your mother after she and your father conceived you. Before that, it was a place of sacred rituals stretching back many millennia. You just happened to have it near your home, and, being who and what you are, it was only a matter of time before you stumbled across it, either in Dream Time or in reality. It just happens that you dreamed of it first. Now the portals are yawning, calling out to you. It is time for you to answer."

Seth finished speaking as he pulled in to the driveway of Annaleah and Uncle John's home, his handsome face smiling sweetly at his friend. "Are you ready to prepare yourself?" he asked.

Annaleah nodded, opening the car door as she replied, "Of course."

As Annaleah gathered her ritual items, Seth lit some candles and incense, trying to evoke the energy of magick and tranquility to her home as she prepared herself for ritual. She took her silver robe and dressing oils into the bathroom, where she would dress after her bath. When she emerged from the water, it would symbolize her washing away her earthly self, to re-emerge as her higher, more spiritual self. It also helped her to relax and focus her intent. She played relaxing music as she drew the water, taking deep breaths and doing her best to balance her chakras and open herself up. She imagined a bright white light encircling her as she stepped into the warm lavender and lilac scented water. The light warded off all the negative energies which she might have brought with her or attracted. She mentally cleansed herself of all stagnant energies and invoked the spirit of calm and the presence of light. As she bathed, she took deep, calming, meditative breaths and imagined, as she washed her flesh, that she was also washing all dirty ephemera away from her as well. Any doubts about what she was about to go through were being scourged from her spirit. All manner of spiritual impurity was symbolically washed away, to spiral down the drain with the remnants of her bath. When Annaleah stood dripping from her bath, she emerged pure, her innocence and integrity whole and intact. She was ready to be in the presence of the Holy and to invite it into a space that she would make sacred and safe for the invocation of her father.

Saying a healing, calming mantra in her mind to retain this state of peace and purity, Annaleah dressed in blessed oils before she slid the soft velvet of her silver robe over her head. Barefoot, she padded down the hall to the living room, where Seth sat waiting for her. He stood as she approached him, smiling appreciatively.

"You look beautiful. You resonate peace and tranquility, as well as spiritual purity. You are ready." Annaleah felt the magickal energy of her bath running through her. Reality seemed muted, a bit fuzzy around the edges as she smiled at Seth. He handed her a small basket filled with ritual items, and he carried a medium sized radio to play music. Annaleah had told him earlier that she wished to use music in order to build up what she called the "Calling Energy" to invoke her father. Drumming, commonly used for this purpose in many parts of the world, was used to enter a trance state and to build a platform of energy for the spirit being invoked to stand upon.

Wordlessly, they left her home and walked into the thick of the woods behind the house. The night air seemed heavier than usual, as if it were alive and waiting for the events to unfold. The chirping of cicadas and crickets seemed to have more meaning; the calls of the frogs and birds every now and again seemed to resonate even deeper with the sense of something phantasmagorical to come.

Seth led Annaleah effortlessly through the woods, honing in on the space where she would dance her invocation. Annaleah followed, allowing reverence for that which about to unfold to overflow in her heart and spirit, readying herself for the mystical.

After what seemed only a short while, the path opened to what was now a very familiar clearing in the woods. It thrummed with energy, its vibrations calling Annaleah forward. Bowing her head for a short prayer to her mother Goddess, Annaleah walked along the outside of the space which would be her circle, laying out beautifully carved stones of amethyst, tigers eye, blue chalcedony and malachite at the four calling corners, as well as various spices, herbs and colored candles. Seth watched her from safely outside the circle.

Annaleah stepped into the center of the circle, her head tilted upward. "I now cast this circle of protection; the space within it is sacred and holy. Only those that I call forth into it may come inside with me, and only the spirits of love and light may attend this ritual. As I will it, so mote it be!" Annaleah went clockwise around the circle, lighting incense and the candles, saying the sacred words and invoking each watcher at the towers of their directions. Once this was done, Seth turned on the music so she could dance forth her energies in order to summon her father. The first song was to build her own energies and confidence for energy weaving and invocations. For this purpose, Annaleah had chosen "The Hosts of Seraphim" by Dead Can Dance. It was a lilting song, and one that never ceased to send shivers of awe through her.

As she let the energy of the music flood through her, Annaleah let her connection to the melody inspire her movements and connect her spirit to the magick she was about to perform. Her movements felt guided by a spiritual hand, building the energy of divinity. As she danced, the air around her seemed to waver and shimmer, transforming the space into a sacred place.

As Annaleah continued to dance, Seth transformed himself into Gabriel. His transformation moved her, the warm glow of love beat forth from her heart and surged through her entire being. It was a beautiful transformation, the change happening in a fluid manner, as if he had done it a million times. It was his wings though, that were the most glorious. Shining silver blue, they outstretched in the air and caught the moonlight, which seemed to scintillate over each feather.

The energy continued to shift around Annaleah as she danced, her body seeming to leave invisible yet undulating energy trails behind her as she moved. When this song ended, the next one began. This was her "power song", the one that she would use to invoke the spirit of her father into the circle. It was of utmost importance that she chose one intimately bonded to her, and so she had chosen one that she held sacred in her heart. This song never failed to elevate her moods and to almost instantly transform her into a meditative state. As the beginning drumbeats sounded out, Annaleah shifted her dance and was enraptured by the music, her undulations drenched in moonlight and caressed by the shadows of the night.

She danced her invocation to "Severance" as played by Bauhaus. Peter Murphy's voice soon rang out, the poignancy of his timber, the depths of the words he sang piercing through Annaleah as she swayed and moved, her emotions overcome with the sense of true beauty itself, deep, raw and powerful. As she called forth the sacred energy to summon her father, she noticed the air change around her, charged and electric, and very, very cold. Chills ran through her body, prickling her flesh with good bumps. She smiled, her eyes closed as she lost herself to the sensations of her summoning dance, elated to be swaying under the moonlight. She felt her body change as she continued her ode to her father's spirit, her ballad to him. She saw her flesh pale and become close to translucent. Beneath her milky skin, arcs of light flashed, climbing slowly from her bent elbow to arc higher at her wrist, until her hand too was luminescent. She felt as though she was stretching out in the most gorgeously languid stretch, and she watched in a peaceful awe as her body grew longer, taller, and more graceful. And still she danced. She danced, and she changed. With one sway, her arms became longer and more slender even as they were more muscularly defined. Bending to the music, her back elongated and from her shoulders sprouted beautiful golden feathered wings. They fanned the air as she stood upright again, their height many feet over her head. Gabriel continued to watcher, his arms crossed and lips smiling. Annaleah fed, too, on his angelic energy, her eyes half closed in sacred rapture.

As the last notes of her Calling Song faded away, Annaleah lowered her head and bowed as a sign of respect to her father. As she did so, something quite extraordinary occurred...It began to snow! At first it was a light, gentle dusting just in the area where Annaleah stood in supplication. Then it began to snow everywhere. Big, fat flakes of snow fell from the sky, some so big they fell sideways. Annaleah looked up slowly. Feeling the coldness falling against her skin took her only slightly out of her meditative state. She turned to Gabriel, filled with awe. She smiled, her whole being suffused with love and pure joy. She tilted her head back and opened her enormous wings, letting the snow fall fully on her face.

Annaleah had never seen it snow before during a ritual, and certainly not in the heart of Georgia during the hottest month of the summer. She knew though, that it was a sign of the coming of her father. Snow was purifying, and for one as great as her father, she knew a bit of purification was needed. The snow would also serve as vibrational insulation from the energy of her powerful father.

The air in front of Annaleah began to waver, lines formed and shifted within themselves, as her father began to manifest. Annaleah watched as his form became solid. Before her stood what looked to be an ordinary man. He was of average height, with white hair that cascaded in ringlets down his back. His eyes were a luminous, piercing green, the color of her eyes after a crying spell. His presence did not startle her, but sent waves of gratitude and love through her being.

"Annaleah, my beautiful daughter," he said, his face wearing an expression of deep, fatherly love. "You must be wondering why I haven't come to you in my angelic form.” His eyes were intense as they focused on her. “If I were to come as an angel, I am afraid that my energy would be too over whelming. Unlike my brothers and sisters, however, I do have a true human form, not one made of glamour. You too, my daughter, have a human form, though your true form is more angelic than human. Let me introduce myself. I have several names. In human form I am known as Enoch. In angelic form, I am known as Metatron.”

Annaleah gasped, her hand fluttering up to her chest in surprise. Her father was the legendary angel Metatron? He was one of the most powerful angels in all of Heaven, the only one allowed to look upon the full countenance of the Goddess. To him the secrets of creation itself had been given, and many other wonders only the Goddess Herself knew. He was the scribe of The Book of Life, and recorded all of the deeds of mankind, and all that occurs in the Heavens.

Tears flowed down Annaleah’s face as the reality began to sink into her mind and touch her soul. In all the wondering she had done in her youth about who her real father was, never in a million years would she have imagined her father to be an angel, let alone the most powerful one in Heaven. She thought of all the things that she had missed growing up, not having her father with her. Daddy daughter dances at school, or to check for monsters under her bed, or even just to hold her and whisper that he loved her. Uncle John was the closest thing she had to a father, and she loved him fiercely, but there had always been a deep aching emptiness that not having her real father in her life had left in her.

Wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand, Annaleah did her best to assimilate the knowledge she was given. Her heart was thundering in her chest so hard that her chest had begun to ache. She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, willing herself to be calm.

“It had to be me to father you, in order to make you what you are.” Metatron continued, his voice soft. “I was born a human, but I never died. I was taken to Heaven in a whirlwind and I was transformed into the angel Metatron. There are no others like me, who were born human, with human wants, needs and desires, human emotions and experiences. No other human has ever been transformed into an angel.”

Her father’s words resonated within her. The hammering of her heart slowed as she felt the same calming energy emanate from Metatron as she had felt from Gabriel earlier.

“My transition from human to angel was part of what is happening now. It was to prepare for the time when your conception would occur.” His voice deepened. “You see, Annaleah, you are the child of an angel who was once human, and the daughter of one of the most pure women to walk this earth. Do not let the misunderstandings of others rob you of the beauty of the truth you know. Your mother was not crazy; your mother was exemplary in all ways. She was pure and innocent, and that is why I loved her."

Annaleah wanted to ask a million questions, but she didn’t know if it would be bad form or disrespectful to do so. The man before her smiled, the snow falling onto him gently, melting slowly into his quite pink human skin.

"I know you have many questions, Annaleah. My time here is short however.” He lowered his head slightly, an apologetic look in his eyes. “The energy of three angels together in this clearing is drawing the attention of the darker ones. So let me tell you what you must know for now.”

Annaleah held her breath, willing the pulse of her blood to quiet in her ears. Time seemed to slow, and the air around her felt as if it had become denser. So many questions that had lain in her heart were about to be answered, the mysteries she had contemplated for so long were about to be solved, ending her cycle of spinning thoughts and pontifications. In the final moments of her wondering, she took a deep breath and let go of the burden that not knowing had caused her.

“You, my dear, were born of humanity so that you would know the workings, the joys and the sufferings that humans have. You were born of the angels so that one day, you might save them. Your Professor's fall was a terrible mistake, one the Creator has thought long and hard over. Her heart has been pained over it. You, my dear, are her gift to the angels and, more specifically, to the Professor, for her error in his falling”

A gift to the Professor? The thought that she had no free will in this lit a small fire of anger in her. She had always felt close to the Creator, and now she felt a bit betrayed.

So this was one of her main life’s purposes? Tears welled up in her eyes, the pain and disappointment replaced by a deep depressing fog that rolled over her heart, pressing down on her chest, making it heavy with the sense of oppression. She felt as though she had been pierced with pain. To be handed like a trivial toy to a man she may or may not come to love, made her seem less valuable, less important somehow. Being a heavenly gift didn’t seem so important to her. Had she no choice in it? For a moment she fought the urge to revolt against this, to push everyone involved away, to say she’d had enough. What if she hadn’t liked the professor at all? What if he didn’t like her? He had been menacing and hard to get close to, and he had seemed to see her as little more than an annoyance.

Though she did feel deeply connected to him in a way that was beyond any emotion she had ever felt before, she wondered what would happen if he wasn’t attracted to her as well. Would she be punished? Would the Professor be punished? She was not a thing to be given away, she was a living, breathing creature.

As much as she wanted to ask these things, she swallowed her spinning emotions and willed herself to listen.

“You had to be human, not just angelic, as the realm into which Seraphael had fallen was that of the humans. You, my daughter, are not only his redemption, but the redemption of the angels who fell and who have bitterly regretted it, and who desperately want to ascend back into Heaven to be with the Creator.”

Annaleah felt her eyes widen as her heat skipped a beat. To be a gift for the professor was one thing, but to be the redemption of the fallen was another. Even though she had been told who she was, she couldn’t help but wonder, why her? What if she didn’t want the role, or what if she failed? Though she had a lot of esoteric knowledge, she didn’t feel prepared to do something so crucial to so many. How was she supposed to redeem the fallen? What would happen if she couldn’t do it, would she become fallen too?

“There are those who will thwart your every effort,” Metatron continued, a warning in his voice. “Some are not sad that they fell, but live to see hatred, death, pain and darkness overcome us all. This, my precious daughter, is why you are so special and why you must be protected. You are truly one of a kind."

As he spoke, Annaleah continued to feel a million emotions raging within her. Was what he was saying true? Was she really the salvation of the angels? Was that even possible?

"It is possible," her father said, reading her thoughts, "though I have no time left to explain to you how or why it is. Just know you are loved, and there are many of us with you, though you cannot see us. Your very existence is the result of thousands of years of love; your heart beats for righting wrongs done long ago.” Metatron straightened up to his full height. “I only have a short time left. Come to me Annaleah." He said her name gently, sweetly, as if saying it was a sacred prayer of reverence.

Though she was overwhelmed, she went to him. She felt as much love for him as he was radiating toward her.

As they embraced, Metatron kissed her on the hands, for in her angelic form she was too tall for him to kiss her cheeks.

"I bless your hands, child, that they would know strength when you need them most, and gentility when you think there is need for none."

And then he was gone...as If he had never stood before her, in the blink of an eye, leaving only swirling snowflakes and the imprint of booted feet.