Aaron remembered what he had done for the dying Ezekiel—how his newly awakened power had forgiven the fallen angel of his sins and allowed his return to Heaven. This ability, this power of redemption, was what the ancient prophecy that had taken over his life was supposedly all about, and whether he liked it or not, it was his job to reunite the fallen angels of Earth with their creator.
He found himself drawn to the dying angels, his entire body beginning to tingle as if some great electrical charge were building in strength inside him. Aaron was becoming familiar with these feelings. He moved amongst the withered bodies, their life forces taken by the voracious appetites of a creature of chaos, and felt an incredible sadness overtake him. How long—how many centuries has the monster been drawing them here? he wondered gazing down at what were once things of awesome beauty—now nothing more than empty shells of their former glory. Those that had fallen from grace, soldiers in service to the Creator, twisted mockeries of angelic life created for servitude: They were all here, lying amongst one another, all desperately in need of one thing that he was capable of bestowing upon them.
Release.
Aaron felt their great sadness—their disgrace, as the churning supernatural power inside him settled in a seething ball at the center of his chest. He knew precisely what to do; it now felt like second nature to him—like breathing, or blinking his eyes.
He laid his hands upon them, one after another—the vortex of power swirling at his center coursing down the length of his arms into his hands. Whether they be Orisha, fallen, or heavenly elite; Aaron touched them all, igniting their dying essences with the force of redemption. “It’s over now,” he said to them, their bodies glowing like stars, fallen from the night skies to show the fabulous extent of their beauty.
Camael stepped back, bathed in the radiance of their transformation, and Aaron wondered if it was only awe that he saw expressed upon the angel warrior’s face, or was it envy?
What the angels had become, as sustenance for a monster’s hunger, was no longer a concern—burned away to expose the final flames of divine brilliance that still thrived in each of them.
“You’re free,” Aaron said as they hovered above the cave floor, reveling in the experience of their rebirth. He spread his wings of shining black and opened his arms. “Time to go home,” he proclaimed, and with those words spoken, the dank, eerie darkness of Leviathan’s lair was filled with the light of the divine, and any trace of evil still alive within the monster’s dwelling was routed out and annihilated in purging rays of heavenly brilliance.
The vivified angels gravitated toward the Archangel Gabriel, orbiting around the messenger of God, bathing him in their luminous auras—and through the light, Aaron could see that Gabriel was growing stronger, gaining sustenance from his angelic brothers.
Aaron felt at peace as he watched the long-suffering creatures of Heaven reunite, and let his angelic countenance recede back into his body—sated, for now. The arcane sigils that were etched upon his skin started to fade, and his wings furled, gradually withdrawing beneath the flesh and muscle of his back. Both Camael and his dog had joined him, not wanting to interfere in any way with the once-imprisoned angels’ communion.
“They’re very happy to see one another again,” the dog said, tail wagging happily.
“They have been too long without the company of their own kind,” Camael said, his eyes riveted to the scene before him, and Aaron questioned if the warrior was not in some way speaking for himself as well.
The Archangel Gabriel was restored to true glory, armor glistening as if freshly forged and polished, wings the color of a virgin snowfall opening from his back. The wingspan of the messenger was enormous, and he curled them around the children of Heaven, drawing them closer to him.
“We have much to thank you for, fellow messenger,” the archangel said in a rich, powerful voice that vibrated in the air like the lower notes played on a church organ. “The monster has been vanquished—and our freedom regained.”
Aaron was speechless; even after all that he had seen over the past life-changing weeks, the sight before him filled him with awe. They all floated in the air now, Gabriel as the center of their universe, all those who had survived their ordeal, enwrapped in his loving embrace. He was taking them back—the Archangel Gabriel was escorting them home.
“Know that my blessing goes with you on your perilous journey, brave Nephilim,” the angel continued, “and that your acts of heroism shall be spoken of in the kingdom of God.”
His dog nudged his hand with his head. “Did you hear that, Aaron?” he asked excitedly. “They’re going to be talking about you in God’s kingdom.”
Aaron petted his ecstatic friend, still mesmerized by the awesome vision before him.
“With these acts, you have done much to expunge the sins of the father and to fulfill the edicts of prophecy—”
Aaron was so caught up in the melodious sounds of the angel’s proclamation of thanks that he didn’t immediately catch the meaning of the last sentence—but it gradually sunk in, permeated his brain, and alarm bells began to sound.
He hadn’t even heard the final words of gratitude spoken by the messenger. The Archangel Gabriel had lifted his head toward the ceiling of the cave, the heavenly glow about them all growing in intensity. Bringer of Light had appeared in his hand, and he pointed the mighty blade toward the cave roof—toward their celestial destination beyond the ceiling of rock and the world of man above.
Aaron charged forward, shielding his eyes from the blinding light of their ascension. “Wait,” he cried as he tried to find the Archangel within the radiant spectacle. “Did you say the sins of the father?”
He could just about make out the outline of the angel messenger at the center of the expanding ball of light. Through squinted eyes he saw that Gabriel was looking at him. “My father’s sins?” Aaron asked, wanting desperately for the emissary of Heaven to clarify what he had said. “Do you know who my father was? Please…”
The light burned so brightly now that he had no choice but to turn away, or go blind.
“You are your father’s son,” Gabriel said within the light of Heaven. “At first I did not see it, but then it was oh so obvious.”
His back to the departing creatures now seemingly composed of living light, Aaron begged for answers from the messenger. “If you know who he is, can’t you tell me something—anything … please!”
Aaron could feel the pull of the celestial powers as the angels were drawn up to Heaven. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and throw himself into the light, to prevent Gabriel from returning to God’s kingdom—until the Archangel told him what he knew.
There were sounds like the world’s largest orchestra tuning their instruments all at the same time—and he knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Gabriel and the others were gone form this plain of existence, taking their valuable knowledge with them.
Aaron fell to his knees upon the cave floor, both physically and emotionally drained.
“You’re the messenger,” he said, holding out all hope that he would be heard. “Give me a message … give me something.”
There was a sudden flash of brilliance—and the cavern was filled with an eerie silence as the denizens of Heaven returned to their homes—but not before he heard the whispering voice of the Archangel Gabriel in his ear. “You have your father’s eyes.”