Chapter 15
One and a Half Aeons Pre-Great War
“…elements of botany, carpentry, smithing, glass-working, and masonry into a tranquil tapestry for routine travel, relaxation, and recreation,” Lila finished, summarizing her presentation for the committee of architects gathered in the architect common room.
The blue ceiling overhead was so dark, its painted blueprint of Heaven looked like someone had flecked the Void with gold.
Lila swallowed. She couldn’t read any of the architects’ expressions; their mouths were flat and stern.
Had they liked her presentation? Had she rambled? She bet she had rambled toward the end. She’d gotten too anxious, had said too much.
But why did the committee stay silent?
Lila clutched her reference scroll tighter, crumpling it.
Finally, the most senior architect in the group cleared her throat and spoke: “Thank you, Lila, for that enjoyable presentation.”
Lila smiled and straightened, feeling proud of herself for once.
“However, you should understand that we are unable to offer you admittance to the architect program on account of your partner not applying.”
“Castor doesn’t want to be an architect.”
“Yes.” The architect’s voice was clipped. “That’s a problem. We cannot admit you without pulling you away from the purpose of your…pairing.” Lila heard the word ‘existence’ creep onto the architect’s tongue, then slip away.
“I see. Well, what if I do both?” Lila tried to keep her voice from shaking. Surely, after all of this—after allowing her to apply and listening to her proposal—they would not be so cruel as to deny her on Castor’s account.
“Both?” the faceless architect replied. She was fast becoming a blur, but Lila blinked away her tears. They would not get to watch her cry. She would not be humiliated in that way too.
“Yes. I’ll take advanced carpentry with Castor and architecture courses at the same time.”
“Even so, when you graduate, you will be expected to work with Castor, not alone as an architect. What would that accomplish?”
“I don’t understand. I just want to learn. Please.”
“Lila…” The master’s face softened. “You are very talented, remarkably so for someone of your origin, but we can’t make an exception for you alone. Truthfully, we only listened to your presentation at the request of your instructor, Master Theo. But the rules being as they are—”
“Well, why can’t the rules change?” Lila demanded, an edge to her voice that was probably rude. She didn’t care.
“Hush, child,” one of the male architects admonished. “The rules are as they have always been. As the Creator commanded them to be. Everyone knows that. It’s hard to understand, but they’re there for a reason. Now you’ll have to be on your way. We have another student interview right after yours.”
This last verdict was issued quietly, but urgently, and Lila had no choice but to retreat the way she’d come in. She stumbled blindly up the steps, out the open door to the main reading room, past the sign that noted interviews were in progress, and down the central aisle of the massive building.
Though Lila rarely cried in public, hot tears spilled down her cheeks at the fresh insult, and an incoming student, his interview materials in hand, raised his eyebrows in alarm at her distressed state.
He opened his mouth, but she shoved past him before he could question her and broke into a run, darting around Library patrons with arms full of scrolls and the odd chair that sat askew in the aisle.
She fled past the same tables where she’d worked tirelessly on her presentation, certain that someone would finally see her as Lila and not just Castor’s extension.
She’d been tricked again by her own foolish hopes. And she hated this place. She hoped she never saw another collection of scrolls.
The portico was empty, but instead of pausing for breath, she leapt off the top of it and swooped into the aether.
From above, she could see Heaven as it was in the diagram painted on the common room’s ceiling.
The Artisanal Courtyard lay at its center, twelve paths diverging from it that led to twelve clusters of workshops, each assigned to a respective guild.
The path stretching north from the courtyard led to the angels’ homes, collectively known as The Dwellings.
Further up this path, the partially finished Great Hall sat at the northernmost tip of Heaven.
Then, out to the side of the Great Hall, lay the Library to the east and the instructional buildings further east. The last building, to the west of the Great Hall, was the warrior’s compound, known as The Fortress.
But down south, at the East Edge, lay nothing of interest, and nothing was where Lila headed.
She touched down near the obelisk, and the Void met her presence with indifference. With silence. It did not care about her origin. It did not care about her desires. It did not care if she had no soul or five souls.
It would swallow her whole as easily as it would anyone, and for this, she respected it. She felt connected to it, even.
Stepping over to the thin, shimmering gold barrier that separated Heaven from the Void, she held her palm up to its translucent surface, stopping a mere thumb’s breadth from breaking through.
It would be so easy to tumble over the edge, to embrace oblivion, to wrap its tranquility around herself like a lover, to shred into a thousand ribbons and unfurl there forever. The Void did not care about the purpose of her existence. Rather, it would relieve her of its burden.
She could be free.
The Void demanded nothing but surrender, and Lila edged closer to it, the bell of her white skirt nearly drifting into the inky darkness. She wondered how it would feel to fling herself, arms outstretched, robes billowing, her body open, at peace. One moment there, one moment gone.
She closed her eyes and imagined it, let the whisperings of power mist over her skin. She could undo herself with a twist of her limbs. An outstretched hand. A step too far.
That, alone, was a power none could take from her.
Just a bit more. If she had the courage, she only needed to go a little further. Already, she felt the aether thinning, her breaths shallowing.
One more step. She could do it. She could leave this place and all its plans for her, like she’d dreamed of for so long.
Lila willed herself to move. But before she could do anything, a melodic whistle, far off in the distance, drew her attention. Glancing behind her, she saw the hazy image of another angel approaching.
It was enough to send her hurtling back to reality.
What had she been thinking? If she no longer existed, then neither would Castor. And frustrated as she might be, she could not make that decision for him. She would not.
There was no way out.
A chill pricked Lila’s arms. Retreating from the Void, she scurried back to the obelisk and peeked around it at the incoming angel.
Luc.
Of course, it was him. Because nothing could sharpen her blow of disappointment like the appearance of the angel who was never denied anything.
Behind the obelisk, Lila scowled. She dropped down to the base of it and stared into the Void, suddenly violently opposed to leaving.
This was her Void. He’d have to find another one.
A moment later, Luc’s voice came from above: “What are you doing here?” Even in his annoyance, his words poured out like rich wine into a silver goblet—a deep crimson wine, bejeweled and beguiling.
Lila winced at the sound.
“Thinking,” she said, crossing her arms. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re in my spot.”
At this, Lila turned her head. She could see why their classmates called him the brightest angel in all of Heaven, why some of them fell all over themselves to gain his attention.
It had partly to do with his intellect, of course, but his appearance was even more beautiful, as if someone had carved him from the smoothest marble, expertly sculpting every bone and muscle.
If he were a painting, Lila might have been compelled to cry, but he was only Luc, and he wore an arrogant scowl as he peered down at her.
With him, he carried a large bundle of scrap paper, tied with twine, along with some Library scrolls.
Clearly, he’d intended to be there for a while.
And now, he could not.
How sad for him.
“You have a spot?” Lila scoffed. “At the edge of the Void? Nice try.”
“If you must know, I do my best thinking staring into nothing. Alone. In case you haven’t noticed, this is the only obelisk here.” Luc drew himself up, as if to lay claim on said obelisk.
“Then lean your back against nothing like we common angels do. Perhaps it will improve your spine.”
“Says the angel slouching.”
“Go on.” Lila slouched down further, leveling a cool stare at him. “Move me. I dare you.”
Luc contemplated her, his frown shifting to amusement in a way that unsettled her.
“You know what, Lila? Have it your way.” Settling down next to her, Luc unraveled his scrolls and produced a pen from his robes.
A small tablet of wood served as his traveling desk, and he laid a blank scrap of parchment on this, propped up one leg to support it, and began sketching an indefinite object.
First, a large oval. Then, a smaller oval next to it. He connected an arc to this shape.
Lila sat up straight, her irritation boiling over. So he thought he could get her to leave by forcing her to abide his presence?
Ha! He would regret that, and he would leave first. She’d make sure of it.
Peering over at his drawing, she waited until he was nearly finished to make her observation.
“I could do better than that.”
“It’s called a draft.”
“Still, I could do better with my eyes closed.”
“Then do it. With your eyes closed.” He offered the tablet to her, condescension in his eyes.