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The usual ending of the usual dream wakes me up with the usual jolt. I was hoping that once I knew the reasons behind it, it would go away. Not a chance.
Rafe is next to me, asleep and still glowing. The glow forms a halo around his head, now I can totally see where the paintings of angels with a halo around their heads come from.
He has taken his weapons, belts and ‘plastic’ armour off for the night and it’s now just a pile next to him. But he’s still fully dressed, even his black combat boots are still on. His brown hair is dishevelled and his relaxed, sleeping face looks younger and softer, not coinciding with his “assassin on a mission” get up. The red marks on his face that I gave him look less angry than yesterday and that makes me feel a bit better.
His hair has fallen over his forehead, covering his eyes. I want to move it, to stroke it away but instead I kick out of my sleeping bag and get up.
The cave is cold and dark. The smell that nauseated me earlier still floats in the air, but it’s manageable deep in here. I wish I had a toothbrush and hairbrush now. Note to self: ask Rafe later if he’s got any stashed away in his ‘magic’ crate. I shuffle slowly towards the cave opening, away from Rafe and our sleeping area.
As I come closer to the edge, the heat and smell of the outside grow stronger. I pull the top of my T-shirt over my nose and mouth, clamping my hand over as well, taking slow steps closer to the edge.
The view spread in front of me catches my breath.
I’m standing in an alcove, chiselled out in the wall of a mountain. Down below flows an ocean of hot and molten magma. The magma is alive, covering the surface of the land as far as the eye can see, but it doesn’t solidify at all. It keeps on moving, creating small vortexes or standing still, bubbling, spurting hot fountains now and again. The stench of rotten eggs, burning matches and urine rises from it. I can taste the sourness on my tongue.
In the distance, three high snow covered mountains punctuate the horizon. And that’s it. We seem to be the only life in here.
“That is the Valley of Hinnom”. I jump up and almost slide down over the edge at Rafe’s voice behind me.
“What are we doing here?” My words are muffled behind the fabric and my hand. “Wasn’t there a better place we could have gone to?”
“This is the only place hostile for Mik’hael and Baza, as much as to anyone else” he answers, yawning, stretching his arms above his head. “It will be the last place they’ll check in the search for you, but even that will only buy us a few days. The lakes of Hinnom, and weapons made with the lakes’ fire, are the only way to kill an angel, so very few of us ever venture in here.”
I take in the view.
Nice, cosy and warm; on the plus side, marshmallows will toast fast.
“If you are up, have some breakfast and we’ll start with our training”, he says over his shoulder at me, walking back into the cave.
“What will the training be about? How to glow?” I give his back a smug half smile, shuffling back into the cave.
“Among other things”, he says, folding his sleeping bag.
He spins back to me, crossing the distance between us in two long strides, “your choice is really simple right now, you either learn how to fight and stand strong and independent among our kind, or eventually be consumed by the essence, completely. There will be no you anymore. If you decide upon the second route, I need to know now. I cannot afford to leave this essence unprotected in your fragile body anymore, not now, so I’ll help you make the transition as gentle as possible. But these are your only options.”
“I have a feeling that these were my only options from day one”, I snap at him.
“Not really. The essence could have stayed dormant for years, potentially until the day you died, released painlessly from your body back into the ether, for the Ophanims to deal with it. But what happened that night, what happened to your sister, must have been the trauma your soul couldn’t take. Great emotions were breaking you from within. Maybe you felt guilt, maybe anger, I don’t know. But in that instance, your soul was breaking, ruptured from within, so the essence rushed to the forefront, protecting its host. If not for that moment, you could be still living your life. You always had the chance to have a peaceful life”, he informs me.
“Yeah, right”, I mumble under my breath. “Okay, so how do we do it?”
He walks back into the depth of the cave and I follow after him, grateful to get away from the stench.
“You have one of the five strongest essences inside you”, he looks over his shoulder at me, “so instead of learning how to grow it...” He stops, reaching the sleeping area, and turns to me, “you shall learn how to instate it and take control of it, before it overtakes you.”
He gazes at me, waiting for my reaction. I pull the shirt off my nose and shrug. “Okay”.
He throws his head up to the ceiling, frustrated, raking his hair with his hands. “No. You don’t understand”, he snaps at me. His eyes are on me, exasperated that I do not comprehend the severity of all that he’s saying. “It is not going to be an “oops” moment here! You will need to let go, totally. And then find the strength to take back control. There will be no second chances. Once it’s done, it’s done”, he announces in a grave voice like a commentator on a radio, informing the nation that they’re at war.
“I really don’t understand what you are stressing about. You’ll probably only be happier to have your lover back, won’t you? It’s me who should be worried about the process, not you”, I shrug.
“It’s not that simple”, he grunts through his teeth, flashing his angry eyes at me.
“Okay, okay”, I raise my hands up. I walk around him to my sleeping bag and start rolling it up.
I’m at a crossroads again. Sometimes it feels like my entire life is made up of crossroad after crossroad without a break, with no straight line ever. I’m about to make another decision, although my choices are slim and the odds are not that great either. I’ve got no way to get out, Rafe, wanting his lover back, has a very strong motive to sabotage this ‘training’, so I have to just blindly trust him here. My choice is between ‘to trust, maybe get screwed and die’ and ‘don’t trust and definitely die’.
But I’ll be dammed if after everything I went through I just roll over and not put up a decent fight. I owe it to myself and to my sister.
“Listen, before I start my potential death trip, can we please have some breakfast?” I sit on my rolled up bag, looking at him. “A toothbrush and hairbrush right now would be much appreciated as well. Thanks.”
He exhales as if he’s just pushed a car. “Sure”, he nods.
He is back at the burner, starting it up. The crate has a water canister in it, so the kettle is filled and back on the burner in no time. Rafe produces a pouch with a new toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb, a very minimalistic a-la Spartan travel kit.
I huff at the sight of the comb. A typical male way of thinking, to bring a comb for a girl with long hair, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Once my teeth are brushed and a good portion of my hair is yanked out, Rafe calls me for breakfast.
He hands me a mug with hot tea and an energy bar. “Sorry, it’s all we’ve got.”
“That’s okay.” I take a bite of my bar. “So how are we going to do this whole essence training thing?” I mumble with energy bar in my mouth, crumbs spraying out. Rafe pointedly stares at my mouth, letting me know that he’s waiting for me to finish chewing.
I swallow the bite, wipe the crumbs from my lips with my sleeve and take a sip of tea.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“First, we need you to find the essence inside. Then you will need to connect with it. You need to allow it to flow freely and then bring it under your control”, he announces the course of action.
“How are you expecting me to do all of that?”
“I’ll help you to connect with your essence, like when your essence reached out earlier to mine. I’ll be able to guide you, but the final step is up to you. I’ll be there to guide you and help you prevent it from consuming you.”
He gets up, turns off the burner, and moves it next to the crate, against the wall. He moves his sleeping bag out of the way as well, leaving me sitting on my own in the middle of the cave. I giggle. It looks like he is clearing the room for a dance practice.
He kneels in front of me. His large purple wings are folded behind his back, the lower ones spread on the floor behind him. He takes my cup out of my hand, placing it on the ground next to us, his intense gaze on me.
“Are you ready?” he murmurs and I sober instantly.
The pull of his eyes is strong, hooked somewhere deep inside me, pulling me towards him. The idea of breaking this hold frightens me. I want to drive that hook deeper, to keep him connected to me forever. And slowly that pull increases, grows, vibrates somewhere inside me.
My mind is screaming at me, demanding to reach out and touch him, to stroke his face, to kiss him, to bathe in the warmth of his hold, and somehow I know that his embrace will make me happy, protected, whole again and found. A warm liquid unfurls inside me, spreading along my body, pulling heavy at my belly, and before I can reason with myself and remember that it’s not actually me wanting it all, I reach out and caress his face.
His skin is soft and the smell of an ocean air fills my nose and my head. I stretch my neck, my gaze hooked to his lips. I can’t seem to blink or pull my eyes away from his beautiful lips and my body stretches to him. Closer. Closer.
Our lips touch and all my senses explode in my head, scorching my mind blinding white. I lock my arms around his neck, but my hands are restless, my fingers are stroking his neck, diving into his hair, tugging, demanding him to get closer.
My sluggish brain registers the chorus of content female sighs, two females, two voices, completely in sync, completely content. Pictures in my head are rising and bursting like bubbles, opening, changing like a montage, me and Rafe in the bright white hall from my dreams.
We’re kissing, laughing, in the middle of a circle of angels, who are celebrating with us, stamping their feet in a musical chanting rhythm. Their wings open and close in time with the beat, as Rafe lifts and spins me inside the circle. He is happy and so am I. I feel wings flutter behind my back, moving my waist long hair.
I feel strong and invincible and not because I’m next to him but because I know I’m more powerful than anyone else in this great hall.
Then the pictures in the montage change again and I’m somewhere else. Something ethereal shines with the rainbow of colours when the light hits it. It surrounds me. The creatures, thin and immaterial like a morning fog, float around me, but I know that they’re scared and upset, and they want me to protect them. I feel something darker coming towards us.
The montage then changes again and I’m standing in a wasteland with a white fire sword drawn, sealed in my white armour from my dreams. I am standing ready to fight and I know that Mik’hael, Rafe and the others are ready for my signal, but it’s up to me to break the swallowing blackness that is coming our way, to get us a lead.
Then short, almost ripped out, pictures of the battle flash inside my head, pitch black darkness around me as I swing my sword at it, and as my sword connects with something, a large gruesome, familiar looking lizard head rolls to my feet.
The bone deep knowledge and power course through me. Somehow, I know how the universe came to be, how the Earth formed and cooled off, and I was there watching it all and as this power and knowledge spread inside me with a white heat, it scorches me and I scream.
It feels like I’m ablaze, on fire, and I can feel my skin blistering, peeling off, turning to ashes. I want to run, to jump off the cliff, anything to relieve the agony, but I can feel Rafe’s tight hold on me and I can’t even raise my arms to shake the fire off my body.
“Shh, shh. Ariel, it’s okay. You are okay. You need to find a way to control it. You have to”, Rafe’s calm voice commands over my fear.
I feel his presence again in my head, on my skin. He holds me, murmuring something in my ear.
My head fills with pictures of me now, and it feels like I’m watching my family’s home movies. I see my first birthday, from the sidelines, like a guest. I watch my mum, glowing with happiness, laughing. She’s the most beautiful and radiant I’ve ever seen her. My dad is there, filming me, the child, wonder struck by the sight of a large birthday cake with a big “1” candle alight. My mum blows it out for me and they both clap, laughing, kissing me on both cheeks. I don’t have memories of them like that. I don’t think I have ever seen them that happy.
Then I see a small wrinkled baby face, swallowed by layers of cotton. The baby is asleep, nestled in my mum’s arms. My mum is tired and I can feel her sadness through her stretched smile. My dad stands by the window, his back to us, more interested in what he sees out there than his wife and his children.
And as I watch it all, I can feel Rafe next to me. He is silent, watching. He wants me to see my family, my sister, myself. He wants me to remember that I’m here as well.
A new piece of the montage comes in, the day I was taken away. I see Jess, screaming, kicking her little legs in our mum’s arms, trying to get free. She reaches for me, bawling. Tears are running down her face, soaking her favourite unicorn T-shirt. She is desperate. She wants me, she wants me to stay.
And I’m there, being dragged away in the opposite direction by a woman in a suit and I push my feet at the floor, trying to hold on. She’s trying to restrain me as I’m fighting her, refusing to leave my home, my family, my inconsolable sister, as the two of us, desperately trying to reach each other, are dragged in opposite directions by adults who ‘know better’. And as the distance between our outstretched arms increases, I scream from the top of my lungs.
My sister’s desperate face stains my mind. The image burns deeper in me than the raging white fire, that’s taking over my mind, and I know that I’ll never leave her again.
A cool blue wave comes over me, washing over the white blaze, pushing it back. And then they collide. Not like two fluids mixing, immersing in each other, but like two iron-clad solids, like a wall and a hammer. Stone chips are flying off the wall with every new strike of the hammer, and although the arm wielding the hammer is getting weaker, the wall grows weaker too.
The white blaze is weakening. It still blankets my mind, but now it’s cool like a morning fog. It lets the blue wave wash through it. Now they’re mixed together like a rain in a foggy morning up North, like elements of the same season. Both are stirring, floating, intertwined, getting to know each other.