In the heart of the Celestial City, Solas, Dilis, Trean, Neam and Croga were awaiting the return of Cosain and Lasair, who had gone directly to the Throne Room of the Atoner to update Him on the progress of Phoebe Wren, her parents and Demetrius. The angelic brothers sat on the translucent emerald walls of the city’s Rapha Fountain, whose crystal clear waters ran day and night and possessed the power to heal the battle wounds of the Heavenly Host. On any other day, the angels would have been soothed by the sound of the fountain’s gently flowing water, and would have drunk in the beauty all around them – the cloudless cyan skies, the radiant crimson hue of the sun, the shimmering golden streets. But today, all of the warriors were on edge, anxious to hear word back from the Atoner, and eager to return to their mission without further delay.
“Should we not be on our way back to Phoebe?” queried Dilis, standing to his feet and stretching for the fiftieth time. “I just feel better when she is within my sights.” He sighed, stretched again and paced a few steps back and forth along the front of the fountain.
“I know, brother,” agreed Trean, his bright blue eyes clouded with concern for the angels’ young ward, albeit almost imperceptible, for he was a trusting soul. “But we can rest assured that the Atoner knows exactly what He is doing – we have seen firsthand how He delivers and redeems time after time, and yet we still marvel at His ingenuity. This will be no different. He knows best, we’ve just got to trust and do what He asks.” Trean smiled kindly at Dilis. He was the youngest of the Heavenly Host, and was not as experienced as Trean, who had pledged his allegiance to the Atoner aeons before Dilis was even created. The youngster was eager and brave and loyal, and his trepidation was entirely forgivable. Trean had no doubt that, in time, Dilis would become as assured as he and the other angels were of the infallibility of the Atoner’s divine plans.
“I have much to learn,” murmured Dilis, eyes downcast.
“And all the time in eternity to do it!” Neam grinned, displaying his brilliant white teeth, and Dilis visibly relaxed.
“Thank you for your patience with this whippersnapper, brothers!” he exclaimed, and the other warriors chuckled their approval of the earnest young angel.
Solas’s assertion broke through the angels’ voices. “Look!” he cried, “It is Cosain and Lasair.”
The warriors all rose to their feet as their captain approached. They could see from his purposeful stride and the placement of his hand on his sword that it was time for action.
“What news, Captain?” asked Croga, his brown eyes intent and focused.
“The Atoner is very pleased with your work thus far. Lasair and I updated Him on everything that has happened, and brought Him up to speed on the Enemy’s plans for the destruction of the Wren family. He has given the order for us to move; we are to leave the Celestial City and return to Phoebe, but we must not make our presence known until the last moment. Our attack, this final battle, must be the epitome of stealth. We will catch the Enemy unaware, route the powers of darkness back to the Abyss, and escort Phoebe and her loved ones safely back to Ireland. The Atoner has great plans for Phoebe and Demetrius, and Jack and Eva – exciting plans, which will have far reaching consequences for good. Now brothers, prepare yourselves for battle, but do not reveal yourselves until I give the command.”
“Yes, Captain,” chorused the angelic warriors in unison, as they extended their mighty wings and took to the skies, quickly rendering the Celestial City a shrinking image on the horizon. The angels flew with complete focus and great velocity, while a million miles below them in the departure lounge of Johannesburg International Airport, Phoebe Wren’s pulse quickened as the last call for Araco Airlines flight 454 to Ireland sounded over the tannoy.