Hello everyone! I apologize for not updating for so long, but apparently, my muse has snuck out of my basement. I've been so uninspired, and I knew that if I went ahead and wrote the next chapter when I really had no desire to write, then it would end up being crap and you people would have no desire to read it. Its also been vary hectic for me lately because of the switch between semesters, and exams, and I was REALLY, REALLY sick for a week.
So here's my latest baby, it's extra long, so please be nice, and leave a review.
Chapter Thirteen: FallenHeaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear
Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
The lonely light of morning
The wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I have held so dear.
I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
Heaven bent to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turned their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
You'll slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed
Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
-Fallen by Sarah McLachlan
"Impossible!" James shrieked, as he got to his feet and began to pace back and forth. "It's not true."
"To my everlasting shame, I assure you, it is." Mavet gazed seemingly indifferent through the middle of the table, but Severus could see the pain in her eyes.
"Why do you say these things as if you are ashamed of them?" Sirius countered. "Harry is a wonderful child, and you act like he was a mistake!"
"I am in exile, Black, exile!" Mavet hissed menacingly. "Do you want to know why? It is because of the Nephilim." Mavet was in a rage now, there was fury in her gaze and tears streaking down her face, as she retold memories of countless centuries ago. "I was ordered to exterminate them, and I refused. I refused a command from the Holy Light Itself, and they very nearly damned me to Hell."
"Ah, and now you claim that this was Salazar's fault," Godric said with a righteous grin. "I've always maintained that Slytherins were bad eggs, but you took care of him, now didn't you?"
In a flash, Mavet had jumped to her feet, and Severus was seriously debating whether or not to hold her back.
"You vile creature!"
"Stop! Just stop." Lily had taken control of the situation again, and grabbed the Angel's arm, fixing her with a pleading look before any damage could occur.
"I don't have time for this," Mavet said angrily as she shook herself free. "We have to hurry, Severus, we have less than twenty-four hours before the Thrones will be allowed to act."
"I'm coming with you," Lily said at once.
Mavet looked to be considering the matter. "I cannot bring you to Earth, you understand."
"Yes, I know," said the redhead, "but I have more to talk about with you, Milady. Both of you," she added with a pointed look at Severus.
"Very well then," Mavet allowed, "But you must be able to keep up with us on your own. I don't have much time."
Lily nodded and summoned a broom to her side. Where the broom had come from, Severus could not tell, but it seemed to him that the laws of physics were quite a bit more abstract up here than they were back on Earth.
Two of the three figures spread their wings gracefully as the three of them leapt into the air. Lily hovered for a moment, and turned back to James. "I'll be back soon," she said consolingly, and then turned to catch up with Severus and Mavet.
Severus, for one, found it easier to travel through the air in Heaven, than on Earth. Another part of the strange physicality of the ethereal realms, he assumed. He traveled farther and could propel himself more forcefully, he discovered, wing beat for wing beat. "You've been keeping quite a bit from me, Angel," he said quite forcefully, and Mavet frowned. "Why didn't you tell me about the Potter boy?"
"Because you just referred to him as 'the Potter boy'!" Mavet yelled angrily. "Honestly, Severus, what would you have done if I had told you? What would have been different? You would have been just as angry earlier as you are now, I assure you."
"I would have torn him limb from limb," Severus muttered viciously to himself.
"Excuse me? You would have what?" Severus had forgotten that Lily was merely two wing beats behind him.
"I would have murdered that brat of a son of yours in cold blood," replied the Potions Master without missing a beat. There was just enough sarcasm in his voice, however, that Lily decided to drop the matter altogether.
"He would have killed you, Severus, had you even tried," Mavet muttered under her breath, but her words were only for herself.
"And you never told me exactly what we came here for," Severus continued to Mavet. "I know you needed to return in order to heal, or recharge, or whatever it is that you Angels do, but aside from that I'm still in the dark, so you might want to shed some light on the many subjects that you've managed to conveniently forget."
Mavet turned her head briefly to give Severus a dry, cynical stare, and then reverted her gaze to the white horizon as she began to speak.
"Angel society is run in a very militaristic sort of way. Everyone has a rank, and a position, and a job to carry out. We also like to dress to our status. The Metatron, who you met earlier, is the highest of the Hosts of Heaven. He wears white, and only white, and he is the only one with whom the Source communicates with."
"The Source?"
"God, the Heavenly Father, the King of Kings. whatever it is that you choose to call. It. Anyway, beneath the Metatron are four-generals, I guess you could call them-we call them princes. These are the Seraphim, the highest of the Angelic Choirs. The four of us, myself included, preside over the elements and make sure that they are at all times balanced. I am the Regent of Fire, but aside from that, I am the Angel of Death, and Captain of the Powers."
"And what is it that these Powers do?"
"They are a sort of ethereal law enforcement. A brigade of Aurors, if you will. Their Choir ranks just below the Thrones, which are the guards and servants of the Metatron. The Thrones police Heaven, mostly, while my Powers tend to the. lesser regions such as Earth and Hell.
"Then below them are the Virtues, a Choir that deals with Dogmatic Law, and below them, the Archangels and the Grigori. The Archangels act as messengers and soldiers. The Grigori are the lowest rank of Angel, often called Watchers. I doubt that requires further clarification," she smirked, remembering the simple, yet occasionally obsessive nature of the Watchers.
"I see," Severus replied dryly. "And the rest of these Angels insist on wearing white?"
"Ivory, not white," Mavet corrected. "Only the Metatron wears true white. And it is only the Archangels and Grigori whom you saw in the village of Heaven. The Thrones wear golden armor, and the Powers wear silver."
"And who are you going to meet?" asked Lily from her broom.
"The remaining Seraphim, hopefully. I need enough support from the higher ranking Angels so that I can recruit an army."
"Ah, so you're going to pit your army of Angels against Lucifer's Demons of Hell," Severus surmised. Then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "One on one, who would win, an Angel or a Demon?"
"It depends on the rank of the Angel. No lone Demon could ever hope to survive an encounter with a Seraphim, while a Grigori would be just slightly more equipped for escape than a human muggle. About the same as if a Demon attacked one of you wizards."
"Ah."
"Mmm. The ocean," Lily murmured. "I haven't been out here in a while."
Indeed, the ocean was now visible on the horizon, and it was not long before it occupied most of Severus's field of vision. He wondered if this was the only ocean in Heaven, or if it connected to the physical realm of Earth in some way.
The three travelers skimmed the shoreline for a short while, until they spotted two antlike figures, and a disturbance of sorts within the rippling shallows of the sea.
Severus landed heavily, having not had time to properly acquaint himself with Mavet's graceful in-flight habits. The Angel flared her wings elegantly, allowing observers to marvel at their size and effortless power, and fell to the sand with a soft crunch, landing spring-like on her talons. Lily calmly held her broom at her side as Mavet approached the two strangers. One was tall, taller even than Severus, with clear blue eyes and short white hair, though his face had a boyish quality to it. He was dressed much like a casual aristocrat of the 1800s, with a loose and billowy white shirt, and tight brown trousers, with chocolate leather boots that belted up to his knees.
The second stranger was perhaps the shortest of all of them, with the exception of Lily, and was dressed in a much more current fashion. He wore a loose scarlet tank top and black cargo pants, much akin to the current muggle casual-wear, except that he had a katana buckled at his side. His face was angular and stern, with watchful tawny eyes, and his hair was long, more vibrantly red than Lily's, tied up in a ponytail with several loose pieces falling around his face.
Both strangers were Angels, Severus noted, easily identifiable by their great white, and red wings, respectively. Mavet approached them with a quick bow directed mostly towards the white-winged Angel.
"Greetings, Ariel, Mephistopheles. I assume that you know why I am here."
"Oh, of course, how could we not?" spoke the red-winged Angel, Mephistopheles, with disdain. Severus found it odd that while Mavet spoke with a British accent, Mephistopheles sounded American. He wondered if this was a matter of preference or not. "I suppose you are the single most watched individual among the Grigori, and they talk of nearly nothing else." Mephistopheles grimaced, annoyed. "Personally, I would love to accompany you to Earth simply to get away from those scum, but you know I would anyway, out of loyalty."
He crossed his left arm over the right side of his chest, and bowed deeply to her, spreading his magnificent fiery wings.
"Thank you, Meph."
Mephistopheles looked affronted at the nickname. "What have I told you about calling me that?" he sniffed.
Mavet merely grinned, and then turned to Ariel. "What do you say, old friend? I especially need your help with this mess."
Ariel tilted his head in consideration, but then a new voice spoke from behind them.
"I advise you to think wisely before pledging your allegiance to the Exile, Prince of Air."
There was a bubbling, rippling disturbance in the sea and a long, giant shape broke the surface, arcing high over even Ariel's head.
Severus's first thought was that of a sea serpent, for that was exactly where the new voice had come from; the giant blue sea monster, more like a snake than a fish, raised its scaly head with visible banana-sized teeth, and peered at the visitors on its shore with wide, yellow eyes.
"Leviathan," spoke Mavet dimly, and the sea serpent lowered its great head to the black-winged Angel, puffing a great cloud of steamy breath from its nostrils.
"How dare you pollute my beach with your presence, Exile. Be gone at once." The great voice of the sea serpent was more attuned to a smooth, eloquent melody, than the hissing or rumbling of a reptile.
"I have been granted sanctuary by the Metatron himself, Leviathan, and I have business to conduct that must take place within a twenty-four hour span. I will not leave until it has been resolved."
The great monster seemed to consider, and then sigh, with another expulsion of breath. "Very well, then, but make it quick, Death. I would like to point out, however, that I condone none of your business whatsoever." This was said mostly to the other two Angels standing on the banks. The great monster reared its head and seemed to shrink, its glowing form shifting to that of a winged woman of stocky build, who was just shorter than Mavet. Her long, wavy hair was a pale cerulean, as were her wings, and her eyes were like ice. She was clothed more to the expectations of Severus, in a long, white robe with the consistency of a muggle nightgown that just barely touched the froth of the waves as she stepped, barefoot, upon the shore.
Leviathan sat herself daintily upon a large moss-covered rock, crossed her legs and looked pointedly at Ariel, awaiting his decision just as eagerly as Mavet. Mephistopheles, however, simply glared at her and swiveled around to face her, bringing him side by side with Mavet.
"Why are you always so difficult? You've hardly done anything but swim around in your bloody ocean, so who are you to criticize? You blame Mavet, but none of this is truly her fault."
Leviathan looked affronted. Apparently she wasn't used to being spoken to in a manner such as this. "How dare you, Archangel! I am a Seraphim, and my position demands respect! As for the Exile, if she hadn't split, then maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Maybe." Mephistopheles continued, seemingly oblivious to Leviathan's rank. "Or maybe we'd all be serving a throne born of mutiny in a fire-blazing Hell. So excuse me for liking the way things turned out." Mephistopheles' voice was dripping with sarcasm, and his tone had dropped to an angry hiss. Severus liked him already.
Mephistopheles crossed his arms, and looked expectantly at Ariel, who seemed torn between siding with Leviathan or Mavet. He cast an apologetic look towards the Regent of Water, sensing what it was that he had to do. The white-winged Prince of Air pressed the palms of his hands together solemnly, spread his wings, and dipped his head towards Death.
Mavet was about to thank him, but Leviathan was quicker. "Very well, then," she huffed, "I trust you'll remember my advice when the world ends and the three of you are left sitting outside the gates." And with that she stood, flipped the hem of her gown, finlike, as she turned, and disappeared into the frothing, ebbing sea, from whence she came.
"Always wasting time, that one." Mephistopheles said, staring out to sea after her. "How long have you been here anyways?" he said, turning back to Mavet.
She thought for a moment, and considered. "An hour and a half, maybe two."
Mephistopheles seemed satisfied with this answer, and glanced quickly at Mavet's sword belt. "Where's the Blade of Fire?"
"Lucifer has it," replied Mavet glumly. "And I didn't tell Leviathan about the Blade of Water because there's still a chance it could be useful."
Mephistopheles looked confused for a moment, until he noticed the silver hilt barely visible beneath Severus's outer robe.
"And this is yours, Ariel," she continued as she undid the buckle at her hip and tossed the white Angel his weapon. Before he could acknowledge his thanks, however, he noticed something peculiar upon the horizon, and grabbed Mephistopheles' shoulder in hopes of alerting him to the sight. Within a moment, the five figures on the beach had turned to face the East, where several glinting shapes grew steadily larger. They were Angels in flight, and they numbered eighteen.
"The Thrones," Mephistopheles murmured angrily, followed by something unintelligible other than the fact that it was probably vulgar in nature.
"They can't touch me for another twenty hours at least," Mavet reasoned aloud, wondering why they could be headed towards her.
"Yes, well, Michael has become something of a vigilante while you've been away," Mephistopheles muttered dryly.
Within several minutes, Severus could make out the individual feathers on each Angel's wing as they came swooping in over the heads of the five on the beach. They circled for a moment, and landed in formation as a semi-circle, cutting off the possibility of escape in every direction save the sea. The majority of the choir of the Thrones had brown to sand coloured hair, though there were several pairs of dark blonde wings. They wore golden armor across their chests, elaborate, yet identical swords at their waists, and golden, winged helmets that reminded Severus of ancient Rome. Strangely enough, something about their present situation reminded the professor of a Death Eater's circle. Maybe it was the way that the Throne's helmets hid everything but their eyes, which burned fiercely through slits in their visors.
Then the leader of the group, a solidly-built muscular angel with amber-gold wings stepped forward and removed his helmet. His face was strong and square, like it had been chiseled from stone, and his eyes were a more luminescent shade of ochre. His gaze drifted suspiciously over the group, and then immediately shifted back to Mavet.
"Exile," he growled in a deep angry voice, tucking his helmet under his arm.
"I have been granted sanctuary by the Metatron himself, Michael," said Mavet slowly and calmly. "You may not harm me for another twenty hours at least.
The captain of the Thrones sneered, and rested his free hand lazily on the hilt of his golden sword. "The Metatron has been doing many things that he ought not to, as of late."
"According to whom?" Mavet countered.
Michael tried to remain calm, but his features didn't seem to be hiding it so well. "You and your human will come with me, Exile. I do not guarantee the compliance of my Thrones should you choose otherwise."
At that, the rustling of metal could be heard as the golden-clad Angels fingered their weapons.
"Is that a promise?" asked Mavet snarkily as she raised her hackles so that she was now almost as tall as Ariel, and leant in close enough to Michael to feel his breath on her face.
Bat, ten seconds. Ordered a voice in Severus's head, and he noticed that Mavet had begun the deliberate flicking of her tail. Mephistopheles had noticed as well, and for a second, his sienna rust eyes met with Severus's inky black, before returning to mock obliviousness.
. nine. ten. WHAM! Mavet had moved before Severus could fire even a single neuron, and she was latched onto Severus's arm, pumping her magnificent wings, carrying them higher and higher. But Severus had already begun the change, and as he shrunk and twisted and reformed, he observed Mephistopheles and Ariel in a desperate attempt to fend off the oncoming Thrones. Lily had quickly made herself sparse, though there was no way she could keep up with Mavet at her impossible speed, several Thrones nearly clipping her broom as they swerved past after Death.
Severus was all bat now, his little claws holding tight to Mavet's collar as the heavenly wind whipped past them. Where are you going?
My fortress in the Void.
Severus gave a little mental 'ah' but said nothing more. He peeked over the Angel's shoulder and was able to make out three of the Thrones, through the steady beating of black wings and undulating black hair. He was pretty sure that Michael was not among them. You may want to pick up the pace, he warned her. You've got three of those idiots behind you. A sudden thought occurred to him. How do you kill an Angel?
You don't. Mavet's answer was grim.
Severus glanced once more behind them, and noticed that the three Thrones were catching up. Strangely enough, he was able to put together the reasoning that because Mavet was a Seraph, and was built more efficiently that other Angels he'd seen, she should be able to out fly them no problem. How he had come to realize this, Severus did not know, but apparently he was thinking too loudly because Mavet began to answer an unasked question.
Its because I'm carrying you. That's what's slowing me down. Spirits have a sort of mass in the ethereal realms, regardless of what physical shape they take. We're almost there, she added, as if this would cheer Severus up.
In a split second Mavet flipped over to glance backwards at their pursuers, and made an executive decision by diving backwards into the bristling forest canopy below. Catching a thick branch in her hand, she hung there for a moment before dropping to the forest floor. The Thrones followed, and Mavet took off through the undergrowth, however, on foot she was much more speedy and agile than they were, extra spirit or not. Up and down, twisting and forward, she darted, a gymnast aided by her dexterous talons. Her wings were gone now, disappeared into the flesh of her back, they would only hinder her here. Severus could no longer see the Thrones behind them as the forest began to blacken and thin, the environment fluctuating around them as Mavet traveled.
She stopped suddenly, at the edge of a clearing, drawing her remaining broadsword (the silver one with the emerald hilt) as a precaution as she scanned the scenery. In the centre of the clearing was perfectly circular pool, but it looked more like molten lead than actual water. Nevertheless, Mavet began to stride carefully towards it.
Severus still clung tightly to Mavet's neck, and when his highly sensitive bat ears twitched suddenly, there was not enough time to warn her before one of the gold-adorned Angels sprung at her from the foliage.
In a flash, Mavet's sword was drawn, flashing like quicksilver against the gold of the other Angel's sword, and moving faster than its physical right should have allowed. With a lunge and a sharp 'clang' Mavet sent the poor Throne flying. He crashed into the trunk of a large tree and slid to the floor, but was up and running only seconds later. Mavet had just enough time to sheath her sword and dive swan-like into the rippling pool, feeling something just graze her ankle before she disappeared.
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