Chapter 36 #2
They stood in silence.
“What happens if the demons will all the Thrones?”
“They will cannibalize each other until only one remains, and that one will ascend to take the Fallen Angel’s place as an Archon.”
“Which will cause what?”
“It is the Archons’ very nature that influences the mortal realm. If they are, on the whole, patient, loving, and kind, then reality bends in that direction. If their number tips toward violence, brutality, and selfishness, then so goes the mortal world.”
“Life isn’t kind out there,” said Sam quietly. “Are most of the existing Archons demons, then?”
Exeros smiled. “Some truths even I cannot voice.”
Sam exhaled. “So this process has happened many times?”
Exeros nodded.
“And… only angelic Archons choose to fall to earth?”
“Do you foresee demons caring about the fate of mortals?”
“No, I guess not. So this battle is really… we’re struggling, all of us, to make the world a kinder, better place?”
“The world will indeed persist, regardless of who dwells in the Pleroma. The nature of the world, however, yet remains in the balance.”
Sam blew out her cheeks, her heart pounding, her chest feeling shuddery, her palms tingling. “And the demons are winning. Don’t the angels… no. I guess not. They have to remain true to themselves in order for their victory to mean anything.”
Exeros said nothing.
“Do you think Harald can defeat Eclavistra?”
“No.”
“No?” She glared at him. “Then all this—”
“I have been proven wrong before. And the very act of attempting the impossible can have repercussions beyond anyone’s understanding. Even if I don’t think it possible, I think it important to try.”
Sam blew out her cheeks, the harshness of the Seraph’s words nearly making her dizzy. Her thoughts raced. “You said demons believe in gambling, violence, and are impatient and angry. That sounds like Harald.”
“Harald reminds me of my younger self.”
Sam startled. “Really?”
Exeros spread his scarred hands. “And look where that brought me.”
“But if Harald wins—if he defeats Eclavistra, and then—who knows—the other demons… if he wins the Celestial War—”
Exeros scoffed, but Sam persisted. “If he wins, will… will an angel ascend, or…”
“You ask the hardest question,” smiled the Seraph. “Can Harald win the Celestial War by fighting like a demon? I myself once thought I knew the answer. Now I know not.”
Sam nodded morosely.
“But that is why I am willing to empower you, Netherwarden Knight. Do you know how many of your Class have existed before?”
“I… no?”
“Two. To my knowledge. One was snuffed out young for showing too much promise by the demons. The other changed the entire course of the Celestial War three wars ago.”
“Three wars ago?”
“This war shall end when someone unites the seven Thrones. Another shall begin when and if an Archon chooses to fall again. Just as previous wars have taken place before the current Fallen Angel fell.”
Sam’s eyes widened again. “For how long has this been going on?”
“The cycle of Celestial Wars?” Exeros shrugged.
“For longer than my memory serves. There have been losses, moments when nearly all the Archons were demonic in origin, when the mortal realm descended into anarchy and darkness. Civilizations fell. Technology was lost, knowledge drowned in bloodshed and ignorance. The elves have legends of these times. The dwarves have written of them in their oldest books of stone. But neither of these long-lived races remembers more than one or two Celestial Cycles past. To my knowledge, there have been dozens.”
“Dozens.” Sam put her hand to her throat again. “So many. So much time.”
Exeros bowed his head. “And each time each Celestial War feels crucial and of the utmost importance. It is my thinking now that the design—the plan, implemented by the Highest—purposefully has set existence into motion as a pendulum. But one day. Far, far from now. One day perhaps the Pleroma will be shared only by angelic Archons, and then at last will the mortal realm cease to know unnatural suffering and strife. Then, perhaps, maybe civilizations grow, knowledge accumulates, and all living things live lives of beauty and plenty. It is for that vision I strove. It is for that vision that I am willing to sacrifice myself.”
Sam bowed her head. She felt spiritual vertigo. She squeezed her eyes shut. The scale and scope of the war made her feel insignificant, irrelevant, pathetic even.
A dry hand touched her cheek, a mere brushing of a finger. She startled, opened her eyes, and saw Exeros before her.
His gaze held such compassion that he was transformed.
“Fret not. Our struggles matter. Though we will not live to see the final outcome, we must take comfort in knowing our efforts, our sacrifices, are what will allow that distant future to take place. We shall, in time, be lost to the world. Our names, our battles, our victories, our losses. They will be forgotten, just as we have forgotten the heroes and villains of the previous Cycles. But their efforts bought us the chance to continue the fight. Just as ours shall allow as of yet unborn warriors and saints to fight tomorrow’s wars.
We matter. We are as nothing against the infinite vastness of time, but that endless scope itself is constituted by infinite moments such as this one.
We are nothing, yet we are all. If you can believe that, you will find in yourself an infinite source of strength that no setback will ever undermine. ”
Sam’s breath caught.
For a moment, it looked as if constellations glittered in the black depths of the Seraph’s eyes.
Her skin prickled, and she felt herself teetering at the edge of an abyss.
“Know faith, Netherwarden Knight. You are more special than you know. And it is on your altar that I shall lay my life. If you will have it.”
Sam’s dizziness caused her to sway, but then she inhaled deeply and took hold of her faith. Her faith that goodness mattered. Fairness. Honesty. Loyalty. And the value of strength in the face of oppression.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will accept your sacrifice. I shall do my part. I shall further the war as far as I am able.”
“I know you will.” Exeros floated back, rising into the air. “It is why I chose you.”
And with those last words, he rose and shrank into a single burning mote once more.
Sam hugged herself tight. She remained thus, lost in thought, for a spell. And then, exhausted, bereft, yet at peace, she returned to Harald’s side, and sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.
* * *
The Throne Hunters found the well to the 40th Level only a little deeper into the azure castle, and together, grim of purpose, they dropped into the swirling darkness and were transported.