Chapter 35
Gavriel
Ihad been flying for what I knew must be weeks, but feared was far longer.
My wings never tired, but my arms did. The only saving grace was that Feather was incredibly light.
My shoulders still burned, though the wings of light didn’t hurt me at all.
They were a miracle I had never expected, or imagined could exist.
From the corners of my eyes, I could see them stretching to both sides of the horizon.
The creatures that I had feared to meet in the Abyss were terrified of them, and stayed far away, which was probably the only reason we hadn’t been attacked.
Rafe had called Sanctuary a defensive weapon. It was that and more.
Our last words to one another played through my thoughts over and over as I flew.
His promise to find some way through. My vow to never give up looking for him.
If he did fall into the Abyss, I would learn the song that would gather his parts together, and I would remake his soul.
I could do it. If I could bear the light of an entire realm, then what would stop me from using the voice I had been given, and the love I had formed over all my years, to recreate my beloved friend?
I had failed him once, and I would not do so again. I spoke to my beloved, though she could not answer me, and sang every song I could think of, as if I could keep her tethered to life with my voice alone.
But at some point in the flight, I felt Feather give a small sigh, then go utterly rigid in my arms. Over the next few minutes, she grew as cold as the Abyss around us. I glanced down and saw her eyelids had closed.
She was dead. There was no other way to comprehend her state. No other explanation.
My heart plummeted and my wings began to sputter, as if their power were being drained. As I careened to one side, the fire of Sanctuary responding to my panic, I felt something small shift in my pocket.
The naming chime. I’d taken it from the Maker Hall, intending to give it back to Mikhail.
It hadn’t seemed like the sort of thing to leave behind.
Now, I scrambled for it with one hand, holding Feather close to my chest with the other, as I tumbled into the void, pinwheeling on failing wings of light.
My hand closed around it. I yanked the chime out of my pocket and pressed it to Feather’s chest, taking a great breath, and began to sing.
I sang her name, the whole, long ridiculous thing.
After I’d sung through it twice, my wings steadied.
The next time, the chime seemed to grow warmer.
After another dozen repetitions, the absurdity of her name filled my voice with laughter.
At the sudden jolting of my abdomen, Feather shifted slightly, and her icy lips fell against my shoulder blade.
That small contact, that unintentional kiss, gave me hope.
I’m not giving up, my sweet nemesis, I thought. There was no answer, of course. But I didn’t need one. The chime was giving off a small pool of warmth as I sang her name.
Another week or two passed, and her body grew heavier, as if she was turning to marble in my arms. However, I never stopped singing her name, and the chime never grew cold. I refused to look down at her again. I knew, if I did, I would give up.
And if I had learned anything about my soulmate, it was that she could not be predicted. Except in one thing: just when you believed all was lost, a spark of light—so small it could be mistaken for a piece of glitter—would shine. And then, the world would become a conflagration of joy once more.
It would happen again if I kept on going. But keeping on was the hardest task I’d ever attempted.
There was no way of knowing if I was getting closer to the Celestial Realm, or deeper into the void.
There were no guideposts; there was no bridge of light as the Celestial Messengers over the millennia had reported.
There was only the vast emptiness, and the vital work of keeping my beloved soulmate safe in my weary arms.
I sang and prayed, and finally, my mind went dull.
My memory faded as the void crept closer, pressing in on me with invisible hands of hopelessness and exhaustion.
I had sung her name so many times, it almost felt like I’d drained it of all meaning.
My mouth grew cold, the void too thick to draw into my lungs.
I tried to make a note, but my voice had been silenced at last. The void grew avid and hungry around me, the moment it had been waiting for now at hand.
My heart fluttered, my wings lost their brilliance, and every wound I had began to throb with remembered agony.
What should I do? What could I do? I was alone. I had no one to help me.
Of course, that had been my failing all along, or one of them.
Instead of turning to others for help, letting those who loved me know I was drowning, I’d tried to pretend I could do it all myself.
I hadn’t told Seraphiel how scared I was.
I hadn’t shared with Mikhail how close I’d been to despair.
I hadn’t confided in Feather that I didn’t hate her.
I’d wanted her, and wanted the chance to love her.
If I had communicated my needs with them, perhaps all of this could have been avoided.
But how could this be the end? I remembered the vision I’d had, that had felt like prophecy.
Feather had called me away from my work writing writing a song I knew I had never attempted.
She had told me something… Ah yes. “Never forget, my sweet Lightbearer, that harmonies are where the magic happens.”
But who was here with me to sing a harmony? Only me, and… My face creased into a trembling smile. Singer of All Songs? I called out in my mind. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do it on my own. Sing with me?
There was a long silence, where even my heart stopped beating. And then I heard a faint voice, as if the song were coming from the other side of a distant galaxy, to answer my question. A snippet of music, there and gone again, like a firefly in a vast night sky.
I squinted in what I hoped was the direction of the sound, and heard it again. I sucked in a breath. It wasn’t the voice of the Singer of All Songs… but it was almost surely Her answer to my prayer.
It was the forbidden riff. The notes that many on Earth had believed heralded the apocalypse, although there was no such thing slated for Her creations.
We’d laughed about it in Sanctuary when one of the Protectors had come back from a mission to investigate rumors of the existence of demonic music on Earth.
It had turned out to be only a song, but one so beloved and reviled, that even strumming the notes—which were growing louder as I flew—was an offense in some places on Earth.
Silly humans. As if music could ever be an offense against the balance.
Well, except for that Justin Bieber fellow.
My wings grew brighter, my own voice stronger as I joined in. My arms grew lighter, and I was almost certain the naming chime on my mate’s chest flared with renewed warmth.
By the time the lights that I knew would be waiting for us swam into view, I was humming along with dozens of distant voices, singing about glitter, signs, songbirds, and spirits. Dawn and laughter, paths and wonder. Whispers in the wind, white light and gold, and a queen.
I’d just sung for the second time about bustles in hedgerows, when I recognized faces on each side of me. The Guides of Sanctuary held their hands up, spools of soulfire burning in them as offerings while they sang.
Tradition—whose presence shocked me, as I had believed them gone forever—and Perception both smiled at me as I flew higher, sweeping between them. As I went past, they joined me, folding in on each side and using their light to lift me up.
My aching shoulders began to heal. The pain abated. The song went on.
As we flew, passing between more pairs of singing souls, I wondered at their presence out here in the void.
Had they never made it to the Celestial Realm?
Was it closed to them somehow? I knew the Guides had been corrupted in Sanctuary, but souls arrived at the Celestial gate cleansed of all transgressions.
Perception spoke into my mind. Gavriel, we all chose to leave the Celestial Realm, to bring you home. He nodded at Tradition, whose voice held a subdued humility I had never heard before as they agreed.
It was rich and low, and filled with sorrow as they stared at my lifeless mate.
“Gavriel, we were not the Guides you needed and deserved in Sanctuary. And yet you saved us all. She saved us all. And so it seemed right, that we take this rare second chance to fill our roles in truth. No matter the cost.” He smiled down at Feather’s silver hair.
“She taught us that. She taught us how to love.” Tears streamed down his face. “When did she d—”
Perception held up a hand and gently instructed, “Tradition, I believe we should continue singing the great Led Zeppelin anthem until she has been reunited with her other mates.”
Tradition’s eyes shone. “Yes, of course. The holy Earth classic, ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”
Perception’s wink caught my eye, and I laughed my way through the next verse, as we picked up speed, passing dozens, then hundreds, then over a thousand gleaming guideposts.
The whole of Sanctuary had come to find us. Every soul she had saved, everyone I had served, even if I had been unfit for that particular task. Their eyes fell on Feather in grief, and me in wonder as I flew the last few yards, the light of my new wings illuminating every face around.
When my foot finally touched the cloud surface of the Limen, I felt a small body tackle my leg almost instantly. “Precious?” I smiled at her as she flapped upward to start peppering my face with kisses. “You’ve grown!”