Prologue
I know why you are here.
I know whose story you want to hear.
I beg you, please be patient, and indulge me for just a little while, for what I am going to tell you is important to that story.
Shut your eyes.
Imagine a place that is infinitely large, shrouded by clouds that bathe in a white light. It is a light that is as old and eternal as the very atoms that make up everything in this universe, including you and me.
This place is heaven, and in heaven you see two angels. One has wings the color of midnight. The other has wings with a more contemporary white color.
Both of them are sitting down, facing a golden box.
They have not been told what is inside that box, only to watch over it, and never to open it. As it is in the nature of angels to obey their lord and to never question his actions, they simply did what was asked. For centuries, they acted as the protectors of the relic, dutifully guarding it from anyone who wanted to steal a curious peek inside.
And just like that, thousands of years went by.
The earth turned. The people that God had created spread over the lands. They picked up shiny stones and sticks to make axes and spears, then arrows and swords. They elected strong leaders to help guide them to fertile lands, but then their leaders confiscated all of that land and drew lines in the soil, putting down borders and walls. First in wood and stone, later in ink and paper.
The concepts of property and nation were born, and with these came everything that became the rotten core of human society.
As greed settled into the hearts and minds of the humans, and drove them into quarrels, then fights, and later, devastating wars, one of the angels saw what was happening, and slowly became more and more disheartened by it all.
"Why does our father do nothing about this?" The angel with the black wings asked. "They are killing each other, and for what? For handfuls of dust! It is irrational! It is utterly grotesque!"
"Are you watching the humans again?" The other, white winged angel responded. "We are supposed to keep an eye on this relic over here."
"I am keeping an eye on it, but I can't just shut my eyes on what is going on down below. This cannot be in our lord's plan."
The other angel shrugged in return. "The humans create their own fate. We are not supposed to meddle with their affairs. My dear brother, why don't you stop thinking about it, and keep yourself on the task at hand?"
The angel with the black wings tried very hard, but it was impossible not to be distracted. Of the two guardians, he was the most kind of heart, and once he had acknowledged the existence of the world's evil, he could no longer keep it out of his mind. So for decades he pondered, questioning the nature of these strange biped apes, who always seemed to try so hard to create their own version of hell on earth, while God had provided them with all they needed to create paradise. When his intellect failed to provide him with a rational answer, the angel started doubting his own purpose.
"Why are we even here?" He asked a century or two later. "Why do we have to guard this relic, while down on earth so much suffering is taking place? We have been gifted by our father to perform the most remarkable miracles! We can let it rain on parched lands to save the peasants from starvation. We can stop one army from slaughtering another by sending down a flock of birds to scare the men off the battlefields. We can set fire to the chamber of a tyrant when he turns to bed at night, and put an end to a long wicked reign. Why don't we do all that instead of just sitting to watch over this silly little box?"
"As I have said before, we cannot meddle with the humans." The other angel replied, getting agitated. "And really, you should not mock the important task that our father has given us. Now hold your tongue and keep good watch my brother!"
The dark winged angel did not speak for a very long time, but in silence, his mind kept turning. When he opened his mouth again a thousand year later, he was determined that he had found the right answer to all of his questions.
"You do believe that we are guarding something important, don't you?" He asked the other angel.
His heavenly brother let out a deep sigh of exasperation. For him, this most awkward conversation had already dragged on for far too long. He was more the type that preferred professional silence. "Yes, yes I do believe it is of significance." He admitted grudgingly, thinking that perhaps if he kept his answers short, the other angel would soon shut up about it.
"Why else ask the two of us to guard it." The dark winged angel grinned.
"That is correct." The other admitted.
The dark winged angel paused for a moment, then continued. "Do you think the answer is inside that box?"
"Answer to what?"
"The answer to all of these problems." The angel made a grand gesture to the blue globe below. "To all that misery and suffering caused by humankind."
"It's not our duty to question what is inside. We have not been told what it is, and we should not want to know." The other angel replied, going through his usual mantra of unquestionable doctrines again. "My dear, merciful brother." He tried with a lighter, more friendly tone. "This incessant pondering about this subject really does not do you any good. I beg you, let it finally rest."
"No, no, no listen." The dark winged angel argued. "I have been thinking it through for a very long time now. So please humor me and listen. I have a theory."
"You…have a theory?" The white winged angel arched one of his perfectly formed eyebrows. It was most uncommon for any of the heavenly hosts to have an idea of their own. The last time that anyone came up with something original…well…let's just say that it had not exactly worked out well for the entire angelic brigade.
"Yes! Yes!" The dark winged angel continued most enthusiastically. He was completely oblivious that his companion was getting increasingly alarmed by his unconventional behavior. "You see, if our lord is indeed as perfect as we believe he is…"
"He is perfect in every way. I would never doubt that."
"And thus the plans he makes are equally without flaw..."
"They are. That is most certain."
"Then the two of us, must also be part of some sort of plan." The dark winged angel held in his breath, waiting for his white winged counterpart to catch up with his thoughts.
"Yes…I guess we do all serve a purpose and play a dutiful part in our lord's designs." The other admitted most warily.
"Exactly." The dark winged angel said. He was almost biting his tongue to force himself to restrain his excitement. "Now what if my purpose is to make an end to all of this human misery. What if our father has placed this relic in our care, because he knew that I would see what was going on down there on earth, and also knew that I wouldn't be able to endure it?"
Before he could be stopped, the black winged angel had already picked up the golden box.
"What if God wants me to open this? What if this box keeps the solution to of all the woes of humankind?" He paused, and holding the relic in his hands, he gazed with great anticipation at his white winged brother.
"You want to open it, don't you?" The other angel finally said.
"And you will not let me?" The dark winged angel asked, realizing far too late, that he had not been able to persuade him.
The other angel sternly shook his head.
It was said that on the day that the two angels fought over the box's possession, the midday sun was hidden behind a black shield, and that the darkness became so great that farmers had to work in the fields by torchlight. When night came, a storm settled over the land, and brought out between the rushing rain clouds, a dark and ominous sky, littered with stars. The clock struck 12 when in the west a falling star was seen, burning fiercely, a miniature sun with a flaming tail, cutting through the black canvas like a hot glowing knife. To all who witnessed it, it was considered a very bad omen.
Nine months after these strange events, at exactly the first stroke of midnight, my mother, screaming of pain and exhausted after 5 hours of long labor, finally gave birth to a baby boy. At first, when his tiny legs appeared, kicking in the air as if he was already trying to run, the wet nurses still believed that it was going to be a normal and healthy child. It wasn't till after my mother gave the final push and the child fully entered into this world that the women folk found out that the infant was in fact, not much normal at all.
I was born as a deformed little lump that from the waist up resembled more a twisted sapling than the fruit of a our noble family tree. The most superstitious of my father's servants would later blame the falling star for my parents' ill fortune. My mother, they said, had been given such a fright by the very sight of these evil omens on the day that I was conceived, that her womb must had contracted, misshaping my father's seed, which resulted in my most imperfect state.
Preposterous as these old fishwives tales may be, they were right about one thing. My birth did have something to do with what had occurred that day in heaven. Only, it wasn't till much later that I found out how that exactly was.
TBC
