"Grey" by Leigh *Shwin* Erickson

“Where is she? Where is my daughter?”

“My lord, I-”

“By grace, Kyel, where is she?”

“My lord... I am sorry... she- she fell.”

The night air was freezing cold- which made me very happy. I could see the stars glistening through the far window of the old warehouse. The chill of the night made their silent beauty so much more poignant as cold is wont to do. They seemed suspended in a fold of flawless velvet; the corner of God’s cloak- or at least that was what Grey said. It was so still out it was as if the ice of the air had frozen the world in its motion and we were the only two who existed, Grey and me. So quiet.

We were lying in the corner of the warehouse. I think it was once filled with lumber, but by the time we moved in it was empty and long abandoned; no one went by it much. It made it a prefect spot for two lost souls; two lost souls like Grey and me. We were lying in the corner we had claimed as our own. Apparently whoever closed the warehouse had been either rich or lazy because there were a few planks just lying about. Grey and I had fashioned from them a partition of sorts from the prying world- even if we were alone in it- so that we could have our privacy. As ironic as that may seem. I suppose it might have been more an act of defiance than anything, but that doesn’t matter.

Because it was such a cold night, Grey an I were sleeping together to keep warm. We only had his coat as a blanket and the clothes I wore did little to keep out the creeping chill. We had a routine on nights like this. Grey would nod to me and then to his corner. He rarely spoke. He would shrug off his coat if he was wearing it- though most of the time he gave it to me when it was so bitterly cold- and lay down with one arm stretched out to the side. I would lay down beside him then and cuddle up as close as I could while Grey stretched the coat over us both and wrapped his arm around me. I wanted to talk to him then, but he said it was time to sleep- and I didn’t argue that. You just didn’t argue with Grey. he had a quiet authority around him that made him almost irrefutable. But it wasn’t that. You just didn’t want to argue with Grey; he seemed so much above it. You didn’t want to bother him with something so trivial as a disagreement. Though, knowing Grey, he would probably have listened to you and calmly explained his place until an agreement was made. He was that kind of guy.

I loved lying there, wrapped loosely in his arms, listening to his shallow breathing. it almost seemed like he didn’t need to breathe. Sometime he would stop breathing for hours in fact. At first this alarmed me and I would wake him up, panicking. He was never even out of breath or dizzy though and sometimes he didn’t start breathing again until I reminded him that normally humans have to breathe to live... Eventually I came to know that what was normal for Grey was not normal for everyone else. It was always unnerving though to wake and hear only silence. I was always so relieved when he started breathing again.

He was the only thing I had in the world and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. His presence was so soothing. There was something about his touch... it was as if his skin or his hands or something within him just radiated a liquid peace. You forgot everything in his arms- that’s why I was so happy it was cold.

He was sleeping soundly, thankfully breathing this time. I loved watching him when he was asleep. His lips were slightly parted and there was a feathery wisp of hair that would float up and down with his breath. He looked so vulnerable when his face was relaxed which made me love him even more. Maybe it was some kind of hero-worship, I don’t know, but I loved Grey with all that I was. I guess if anyone deserved my total devotion, it was him. He had, after all, saved me from myself. Out of the ashes of death, quite literally in my case, he drew me from darkness and thrust me into life.

My house had burned. It was the gang. They had started as just a bunch of childhood friends but had, with time and the crazy nature of youth, grown violent and destructive- earning for themselves a terrible reputation. I think every member was wanted by the police for more than a dozen crimes. My brother suddenly came to a stark reality that what they were doing was wrong- but only after innocent blood had been spilt. He had wanted out. But there is no redemption for those condemned by themselves, even if they desire it. There is only hatred for the redeemed.

Everyone dead. My mom; my dad; my little sister- she was only eight. I was thirteen. He was sixteen. My brother was shot by his own ‘family’ just in time to see them set the house alight, all doused with gasoline; just early enough so that he could see it and just late enough that he couldn’t warn us. It was the last thing he ever saw. It was the gun shot that woke me up. It was because he died that I lived; but I didn’t think of that then. I don’t know how I survived the fire. My mind has blocked those memories from me, or maybe Grey did, and I do not resent it for that.

Wandering through the still smouldering embers and ashes of my life, I saw no point or purpose in going on. The broken glass... oh it glittered so keenly; the pain was so real and solid; the blood so red... so alive. I welcomed the black.

He must have found me just as I passed out; maybe he was watching. When I woke, all I saw was grey. He was sitting by me, asleep, and a grey sort of mist seemed to cling to him like the last scraps of a once find robe. I called out to him then, desperate. I called out to my Grey saviour.

He never left my side.

I was watching the frail light of stars as it caught each strand of his silver hair. It took only the faintest light to make his hair shimmer. It was so fair and beautiful, dancing in a ragged cloud around his face, falling to the base of his neck. I reached up and drew my fingers gently through its length, revelling in its texture which was unlike any other head of hair’s- of that I was certain. It felt like the down of feathers in my hand. His eyes flicked open as my fingers brushed his face in the return journey to their rightful place at my side. He regarded my blankly for a moment as he was prone to doing when you woke him up- he had very strong dreams- but then recognition crossed his face and he smiled gently at me and let his eyes slip shut again, settling me more comfortably against him. I felt his skin brush against mine and shivered as the raw skin on skin contact with his aura washed directly into me. I readjusted my head on his chest so I could hear his heart. It never sounded like mine. Mine was a steady thump like most people’s I suppose. Grey’s was more like a chime or a bell, erratic and fey; it played the most beautiful music. He was so warm and I could feel the soothing aura he emanated washing over me. I wish we could have stayed like that forever.

“Grey?” I ventured, unsure of what exactly I was doing.

“Mmm?” His voice was sleep stained, cracking slightly. It made me giggle to hear it.

“Will you tell me that story?”

He groaned slightly but didn’t exactly protest. Grey was a master storyteller and he rarely passed up the chance to dabble in his side passion. I felt him shift beneath me. “What story, ‘El?” His voice rumbled up through his chest, loud in my ear.

“The one about the people with the silver wings.” Grey called me ‘El just as I called him Grey. He never introduced himself to me, keeping the name that I had given him when I had first awoken. It fit him though with his silvery hair and cloud like aura. I later found out that he didn’t remember his name. He remembered very little of his past as it were- he was alone like me. I had offered him my name once, but he didn’t take it. He said that where he had come from people whose names ended in -el could be trusted as friends. It was the mark of a caring community of peace, he said. It was one of the few things he could remember. He said he had felt drawn to me lying in the rubble of my house and he thought the name was an accurate portrayal of my character. So I was ‘El. And he was Grey.

“Again?” He mock protested; but he loved that story. He told me it had come to him in a dream just after he found me. It was one of the first things he could remember from after he lost his memory.

“Yeah.” I grinned. I loved the story as much as he did and never tired of hearing it- which was a good thing considering how many times it had passed his lips- mostly by my request I’ll admit.

“You sure?” He was teasing me now. I craned my neck so I could see his face. In the pale starlight it seemed to glow, the dark of it contrasting sharply with his silver hair.

“What do you think, Grey?” I teased back, emphasising his name for fun. I could see his eyes which almost made me become distracted. They were so beautiful; the blue of an unborn morning flecked with the silver of rain. If anyone had perfect eyes, it was Grey.

“I think that it’s late, but if you’ll go to sleep after that I’ll give in.” He smiled softly and then mumbled, “Like I’d say no anyway.” He ruffled my hair; it was getting long. I liked it this way. I liked how the strands of copper and mahogany would shine in the sun as if I were Grey’s opposite. I suppose in many ways we were opposites, physically at least. My eyes were a dark brown that was almost black, his were the beautiful blue and silver; my hair was gold, his was grey; he was tall and lean, I was short and child-like; but our souls were the same, and that was all that mattered.

I felt him shift again and moved with him as he sat up, pulling me close and spreading the coat as efficiently as he could over the both of us. “All right, I’ll tell you. But remember, I don’t work for loud audiences.” He eyed me sternly though I could see the amusement in his eyes. The story was very dear to Grey. It was as if it were a part of him that he didn’t like to reveal. I felt privileged to know it. It was so beautiful. He drew a deep breath and soon began to speak in the stiff tongue of legend...

“The eternal firmament; an azure swathed black sprinkled with the shining silver of stars and laced with the white of clouds was spread above like a great, soft blanket- or so the mortals saw it. Enveloped by the froth of life itself, the silver winged ones... they knew.

“Under the watchful eyes of the Holy One; the Infinite Being whose cloak flowed out in an ever shifting array of colour and light from beneath the throne to become what the mortals knew as the sky; under the watchful eyes of God, the silver winged ones danced. Submerged in the splendour of eternity, clothed in the grace of immortality, no mortality to mar the perfection of the undying; they danced with the stars as their lamps in the great ballroom of the sky.

“Athravel, master of stars, led Lady Aiella, Lady of Light, in a lilting waltz around the clouds; treading light and fleet in a harmony unsurpassed by any earthly beauty. It was a celebration of her coming out of mourning and, consequently, the announcement of their engagement. Aiella had been engaged to Lord Iriel; keeper of the comings and goings of day and night; the master of dawn and dusk, of sunset and sunrise; but he had been murdered in a terrible scheme to seize his post, a much envied position for its closeness to God and for its authority over the firmament- the two things most valued in the eyes of the silver winged ones. Aiella had been devastated with the news of his death, withdrawing almost completely from the silver circle, and it was only now, several mortal lifetimes after her fiancé’s death that she had allowed herself to be convinced to continue on.

“As a final tribute to the long dead Iriel, the Holy One had hand-fashioned a vibrant sunrise, something seen by few mortals, but cherished by Aiella as a final closure to her first love’s life. She had spent the day in quiet contemplation, accepting at sunset her engagement to Lord Athravel. At the announcement, the Holy One had proclaimed the commencement of the celebration; the Lady of Light was high in heaven indeed.

“The stars were spread in an infinite space around them, lighting the wings of silver shifting in elaborate patterns like swirling cloaks while the silver-winged ones danced. Everyone stole whatever chance they were given to gaze at the honoured couple while they waltzed. Aiella had been in darkness for so long that the sudden renewal of her light captivated and enchanted the entire host of heaven. The light emanated her delight and long surpressed joy; and everyone within its soft radiance was bathed in the gentle yet poignant ecstasy she felt in the intimate embrace of her new fiancé, a loving reprieve after so many years of hollow darkness and mourning.

“It seemed nothing could mar the perfection of the evening. But perfection is not stable and it is so much easier to shatter happiness than it is to inspire joy. The frail beauty of the skies was not to last.

“Murmurs began to wash around the edges of the throng; subtle ripples that marked the approach of something more. The Holy One whose watchful eyes missed nothing, raised a hand and the music ceased, and with it, the dancers. Even Athravel and Aiella drew apart to gaze with the rest of the host at the great gates that held the portal to the skies. A figure, robed in blue and grey, stood still and silent in the open gateway. he made no move nor did he try to speak with any who surrounded him. He seemed content to watch.

“Lady Aiella, seeing the stranger, drew back in what appeared to be extreme fright, hiding herself behind Athravel. Irked at having his evening interrupted, Athravel called out to the figure, ‘Who are you, stranger, and why do you interrupt this, the celebration of my engagement to this Lady? It is obvious that you frighten her which does not please me. I must ask you to reveal yourself or to leave. By my good mercy, it will be unharmed if you do not linger.’

“The stranger seemed to chuckle at this, drawing the attention of every being in the room. Athravel was among the more powerful in their ranks, it did not do to insult him. ‘Perhaps you should let the Lady decide whether I stay or whether I go.’ He bowed low and looked to Aiella.

“Athravel was outraged. ‘Who are you, man, that you provoke my wrath and make frightened my bride-to-be?’ His fury extinguished some of the stars lighting the sky, drawing cries from the assembled and casting the firmament into an eerie darkness.”

“The stranger bowed his head and raised an arm, fingers spread wide causing the very disposition of the sky to shift into light as he lifted his hand above his shoulders. ‘You ask me who I am, Lord Athravel? You do not recognise the man the heavens betrayed?’ He drew back his hood which had cast his face into darkness and let himself be seen.

“Immediately the throng was thrown into chaos. The face the stranger had revealed to be his own was none other than the long dead Lord Iriel’s. Athravel’s star-kissed skin grew ashen as he gazed upon the one who had died. ‘You were dead.’” Aiella remained pale and silent.

“Iriel strode forward, moving easily through the masses of silver-winged ones who parted before him like a wave. ‘They did not kill me, Athravel. I have returned.’ He stopped but a few feet from the ashen couple, not going forward out of either courtesy or disgust it could not be determined.

“Athravel moved to speak but Aiella spoke first. ‘Iriel...’ she moaned, sinking to her knees. Those present could feel the light dim once more as the soul of the Lady of Light threatened once more to fall into darkness.

“‘My Lady.’ Athravel murmured, catching her. ‘Why do you return, Iriel? You are dead to us all and you see how you harm her. Why return if you knew you would inflict this pain on the one you loved?’

“It seemed that Iriel grew faint with these words, his face becoming more pale than it had been, his posture slumping as his soul gave in to the pain he had been trying to stave. ‘I return to say goodbye.’ He said finally, slumping to the ground and landing hard on his knees by Aiella. ‘I cannot stay, even if you or I desired it. I have come to give you this.’ He reached delicately into his cloak and drew forth a soft, white jewel. Athravel gasped for recognising it.

“‘She gave you her soul? Aiella gave you her soul? And now- and now you give it back? What are you?’ Athravel’s face was a perfect blend of confusion, intense wrath, and shock. The soul of a silver-wing was only given when their soul had bonded to that of the recipient. It was the ultimate expression of devotion and love; only precious few silver-wings ever reached that state of dedication. To return a gifted soul was to threaten death to the returnee. It simply wasn’t done.

“Unless something so terrible had happened to the bearer that it needed to be returned.

“Aiella gasped seeing this and tears fell in crystalline rivulets from her fair eyes. ‘What has happened, Iriel? You would not give that up willingly, this I know.’ Her emerald eyes burned into his, demanding an answer that was pure and true, while a look of utter horror and dread creased her fair face.

“Iriel sighed heavily and it seemed that all his strength had left him with her words. Athravel stood silent behind Aiella, his harsh mind beginning to grasp what had inspired Iriel to return. ‘I-’ Iriel could not go on and silent tears seemed to shred his face and soul as he fought for words. ‘Take this and I will tell you. When I say what I must I will be cast from here forever.’ Aiella reached forth a trembling hand and accepted the jewel into it with a solemn silence. Even after death she did not doubt the word of her first love.

“‘What has happened, my love?’ She drew her hand back to her chest and cradled the jewel delicately, her fair green eyes never leaving his of gentle blue. Athravel stiffened at her choice of words but said nothing for fear of harming Aiella; the returning of a soul was a precarious ritual, any interference could maim either of the participants into eternity, and he would not risk hurting his beloved.

“Iriel’s eyes closed under her intense gaze. He shuddered violently as a leaf clinging in its final moments to a no longer welcoming branch. ‘Aiella, to come here is to mark my death. I come to return this to you, for you should be free to give it again and should not be bound to me.’ It seemed to those watching that he nodded slightly in Athravel’s direction even as a tremor of pain washed over his face. “Why do I not simply return to you now and live with you in eternal bliss as was to be? It is,’ and his face fell, “It is because of what I will show you. I love you, Aiella, and I will eternally; and it is for this that I would not have you bound to a monster.’ He stood and looked about the slowly thickening crowd, ‘I do not resent any of you for what you will do when you see what I am.’ He strode forward and bowed low in the direction of the Holy One, ‘Forgive me, Father.’ He murmured even as tears filled his eyes. ‘It is not fitting that I should live. Such is the price of immortality.’ And with these words the grey cloak of Iriel was flung from his shoulders revealing his damnation.

“Immediately the most fearsome of the firmament’s guards sprang into life, spears pointed directly at Iriel’s chest where there would rest a mortal heart; for from Iriel’s back sprang four vibrant wings of black fire, and tattooed across his body was the woven knot of damnation, the marks of a demon.

“‘What has caused this, Iriel Iravear, my son?’ boomed the voice of the Holy One. All motion ceased with His speaking, for rarely did words pass His lips.

“Iriel knelt with the spears but inches from his chest, tears flowing down his face, their scarlet hue betrayed even further his conversion. ‘I am ashamed to say, Father. It is only weakness that has betrayed You and my Lady, weakness and selfishness.’ It seemed almost that he wished to die, something which did not pass unnoticed in the watchful eyes of the Holy One.

“‘Speak. If it is truly that shameful, you deserve no reprieve.’”

“The crimson tears fell and burned through the floor of the sky, through the cloak of the Holy One, falling as shattered stars onto the mortal world below. ‘I wished to live, Father, and so I became what I am. I gave up my soul to acquire one final draught from the well of life. As such, my soul is not mine. But it is not his either. My soul is here.’ With these words he drew forth a cloudy grey sphere the colour of storms. ‘I did not let him have it.’ He bowed his head in a shame that bore no voice.

“There was a moment of silence so think and deep that the very air seemed suffocating surrounded every being while the assembled awaited the Holy One’s judgement. He was still for a moment, every second dragging on like the steps of eternity, but then closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“The guards of the firmament needed no spoken command from the Holy One and sprung instantly to life. Three spears bore a hole deep into the fallen angel’s chest while a fourth was passed into the Holy One’s hands. ‘I will not grant you death, for that is what you desire. Do not think you have slipped away from my gaze, I still see your soul. Instead, I will give you mortality. When your years are spent you may come back here and tell me what you have learned in your time. Maybe then I will see fit to forgive you.’ The fourth spear was then plunged into Iriel’s chest while he fell backwards into darkness. They were removed, but not until the Holy One decreed it; not until they had formed within Iriel a mortal, human heart. Six wings fell from Iriel’s back; four of raven hue and two of shimmering silver. Those present bowed their heads to witness such a horrifying event; the exile of a silver wing was not common nor enjoyed by any, even those who had accused the condemned.

As the last wisp of silver faded away, a cry escaped from Iriel’s lips such had never been heard in heaven, hell, or across the firmament above; it tore through the very center of every present witness and even scarred the mortal world below as a violent clap of thunder which left the mortals stunned and shook the earth to its core. His body was lifted up and enveloped in a vibrant cloud that stunned even the Holy One for its pure luminescence. ‘Truly... he was...’ But the light exploded forth from him and forced every witness back against its power. They saw no more.

And so it was that Iriel fell through the gates of the heavens, cursed to roam the mortal earth until the arms of Lady Aiella, now the Angel of Death, embrace him once more and bear him to the firmament’s expanse once more where he may gain peace in the eternal grace of the Holy One once more.”

Grey sighed as the last words escaped his lips, slumping back against the wall, and allowed his body to slip to the ground. Telling that story always exhausted him- he told me it took a little of his soul with every telling. I never failed to feel privileged after he had shared it with me; I knew Grey wouldn’t tell that story to anyone. It was so beautiful and so sad. So unsettling. I shivered suddenly, remembering the cold, and sank down next to Grey where he was sprawled on the floor. As I settled his coat over us, I noticed how shallow and uneven his breathing was, a sure sign that tonight was going to be one of those nights where I was going to lie awake for hours panicking until with a gasping choke, Grey started to breathe again.

I pulled myself as close to him as I could master; it really was a freezing cold night and I truly needed Grey to keep warm this time. Besides, the story had shaken something loose in my mind that I did not feel like dwelling on, and it would take a strong dose of Grey’s aura to control it. I clung to him, trying not to notice his still chest and trying to ignore the building pressure behind the wall that barred my memories from me. But the image of death his silence made and the force of the story’s shaking left me with little choice.

It consumed me.

I was walking through a mess of embers and ash. I was no longer next to Grey; I was no longer in the warehouse for that matter. I was there, where I didn’t want to be, I was where my house once stood, pacing the ruins; a dejected flower in the jaws of frost. Sweat dripped down my face though I was shivering; the heat of the recent fire still wafted from the ground in sickening waves. Worst of all was the smell; burnt plastic, hair, flesh, food burnt and spoiled- my family, my life. It assaulted my nostrils as a means to rape my brain of thought and confidence; as a means to rape my soul. I began to panic. I couldn’t let that happen! Trying to run across the waste of burning trash, I tripped suddenly over a protruding board and landed, hard, on the ground. Pushing myself hastily to my knees, I screamed as I realised I had just fallen on the charred remains of my brother. I had put my hand through his chest! I had put my hand through his- I had- I had- I panicked, tearing wildly at my flesh and scrambling backwards through the ruins, not caring for the frailty of my skin on the shards of the fire. I screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and-

“Shhhhh, ‘El.” A warm and soothing presence washed over me. I was shivering terribly and convulsively dug into the warmth. “Shhhhh. It’s over. It’s over. I’m here, I’m here ‘El.” The voice never wavered though my vision did. It began to fade and lessen; the stench recessed to the corners of my memory and the world faded to a soothing black speckled with the light of stars.

“Grey-” I moaned, shuddering violently and not realising how I was almost tearing at his flesh in an effort to get closer to his soothing touch. “Gre-e-ey.” My voice was barely a trembling whisper. I flinched suddenly as I recognised the smooth touch of skin beneath my hands. I began to pull away but Grey stopped me.

“It’s all right, ‘El, you need me.” He slipped off his shirt, wrapping it around me- or what was left of it at any rate, and pulled me close to him. He held me tight and whispered soothingly as his grace of a presence radiated directly from his skin. I could only focus on that then, blushing slightly with the contact, and hope that it erased the scars searing across my mind. I was shaking less and less and my breathing was becoming more even and less ragged- though it still could only be called gasping for a long time- and Grey; he was simply there- which was what I craved.

Morning found us still together, though I had calmed and Grey was sleeping. I looked up at him briefly in wonder of his character, marvelling at his hair in the dawnlight- the light that seemed to flatter it the most- but then wriggled out of his embrace and stood, carefully placing his shirt and coat on top of him. It was still chilly and I could see my breath expanding from me in rolling clouds that caught the sunlight like pale gold. I turned and saw that Grey’s form was accompanied by clouds of the same type, something that relieved me- he was breathing. I rolled my eyes at myself for worrying about something that never harmed Grey, but I couldn’t help myself.

Trying to get Grey’s silence off my mind, I eased over to the ladder that led to the roof. I enjoyed watching the sunrise. Sometimes Grey and I would watch it together which was something I loved. I doubted Grey would be joining me this morning, but I didn’t mind. He needed to sleep.

The roof of the warehouse stretched on for a long expanse. The way the almost-sunlight was angled against the sloping boards made it feel like it went on forever. It was really only about fifty yards square, not too big for a warehouse. Maybe that’s why the original owner had packed up and left. Grey and I never found out in any case. I walked delicately over to the far edge, away from the ladder, and nestled myself in the little crook Grey had made. It was designed so you could hang your feet over the edge of the roof and still sit in relative safety. Grey and I both had a thing for flight and this was the closest we were going to get as it were.

It was a beautiful sunrise full of a beauty that was pale and creamy and delicate- and whatever other words those poet people use to describe pretty sunrises- something I vowed I would never try. I giggled at the thought of me writing poetry. I had no talent with words; they died as I spoke them; but Grey did. He could make words come alive and paint with them so smoothly that it was like he wasn’t using words and was just speaking images directly into your mind. I wondered how he would describe this sunrise on paper. It would have been fun to read.

I started as Grey’s hand landed on my shoulder. “‘El?” It took me a moment to realise that something wasn’t right. He was shivering and it didn’t seem to be from cold though he hadn’t put his shirt or jacket on yet. He looked like he was nearly too shocked to speak and I could see the shimmer of tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes. “‘El?” Now he sounded lost.

I scooted over on the boards so he could climb on next to me, which he did, but very mechanically. “What is it?”

He’s coming, ‘El. He’s going to find me.” There was something very frightening about how still his voice was. He looked into the sunset but didn’t see it, eyes widely watching something only he could watch.

I looked on, alarmed. I had never seen Grey upset- he always seemed to hold everything within himself. This was also the first time I’d ever hear him talk about someone other than the people in the stories he told me. I was quickly growing concerned. “Grey? What are you talking about? Who’s coming? What’s happening? Grey?”

He shook himself once as if coming out of a dream and turned from the sunrise to look me in the face. “He’s coming, ‘El.” He looked pale and withdrawn, haunted almost- as if he had just been alerted, not of his mother’s death, but of her suicide. “He is coming.”

I was almost shaking now as the tension grew. It was obvious that whatever Grey had remembered or heard or something-ed had unsettled him terribly- worse than my nightmarish memory had the night before. “I know he’s coming, but who is he?”

“The Angel.” Grey was trembling. “‘El, he’s coming for me.” There was a barely controlled panic rising steadily in his voice.

“An angel? Grey?” The only angels I knew of were the ones in Grey’s story and they had never been referred to as angels, only as the silver-winged ones. Was he- was he okay?

Grey’s already pale face blanched to an almost cloud-like white. “Athravel. Dear God he’s coming for me. I remember, ‘El, I remember it all!”

“Athravel? As in Lord Athravel? From your story?” Was he hallucinating? I was worried suddenly that he might have been affected too strongly by the telling last night, that he couldn’t bear telling it one more time. That he had given up too much of himself through telling it. Or was he still in a dream? Grey’s response didn’t encourage me much.

Yes, as in Lord Athravel. ‘El, last night I remembered what I was, what I am... what I... I don’t even know. Oh ‘El, ‘El! I’m Iriel!”

I couldn’t keep the incredulous look off my face. “You’re Iriel? Grey, that’s just a story. It was a dream. It isn’t real!”

“But it is. It wasn’t just a dream... it was, it is my past. That was my story. He- the Holy One- he sent it to me so I wouldn’t forget. By grace, I’m...” He lapsed into a broken silence, arms wrapped about himself in a tight hug while he shivered uncontrollably.

I was almost as pale as Grey was now with a thousand things running through my head. “How do you know this? How did you remember?” Maybe if Grey could see how illogical this all was he would drop it and snap out of it. That’s what I was hoping anyway.

Grey seemed to come out of himself for a second and he looked at me as if debating on telling me something. “I know because I have seen it. Look at my back ‘El, tell me what you see.” He turned his back to me carefully and hunched his shoulders so his hair wouldn’t fall across it. “If this isn’t proof enough for you I don’t know what is.”

It was hard to see in the young light; the sun had barely poked its head over the horizon. It took me several moments of searching to find what Grey was talking about. When I did, I gasped, struck speechless. There were scars, long and faint with age lining his back from his shoulder blades down. Six of them. I couldn’t speak, could only move over to where Grey was sitting and trace the lines with my finger. They were uncanny in their smoothness and I could almost feel the unfettered and awesome freedom of his soothing soul pouring from them.

“I never knew where they came from. I guess I know now.” He said almost maniacally, the stress and incredulity of it all pouring into his voice as he struggled to accept it. “I don’t have much time, ‘El. He’s coming.”

I shook my head, trying to grasp at it all though it was like trying to seize a boulder with one hand. “Why? Why is he coming?”

“To kill me. By grace, ‘El, he comes to kill me.”

“To kill you? Grey, why would Athravel try to kill you? If you’re Iriel you effectively saved his fiancee. Why would he-”

“Because she fell.” Grey’s deadened voice broke through my ranting.

“What?”

“She fell.”

“Who fell?” I asked carefully, already knowing the answer.

“Aiella. Beautiful Aiella, Lady of Light.”

“Why would she-”

“For me. She fell for me, because of me. Athravel wants to kill me now.”

“I don’t- but- what- why did she feel- why did she fall for you?”

“So she could become the Angel of Death, so she could welcome me back. The story never was clear to me ‘El, because I couldn’t remember. The only way to lay claim to the position as Angel of Death is to fall and to fall for someone. Someone like me. You are familiar with the concept of a guardian angel?” I nodded, wide-eyed. “They fall when mortals are ready to die so they can collect the souls of their wards. It is an expression of pure love, second only to the exchanging of a soul. An expression of love- the love that Aiella held for me- and for me alone. That’s why Athravel wants me dead.”

“How-how do you know this?”

“Because I told him.” A silver papery voice cut across my person and I froze for hearing it. Grey merely moaned and buried his face in his chest. It was obvious hearing the voice inflicted pain in his soul if not in his skin.

“Aiella, go away from here. He’ll find you. He’ll kill you.”

Aiella? Despite my best intentions not to stare, I couldn’t help it. This was the Aiella Grey had described, the Aiella that he loved as Iriel and now as Grey. She was stunning. Her hair was long and white, flowing with unmatched grace down to her feet in light wisps that were never burdensome or heavy. Her face was also pale, and her eyes sprang forth as bright pools of blue, now touched by the black of death, shaped as delicately as Grey’s; they were a pair. She was dressed in a fluttering fabric of white that danced with every movement, hanging from her arms and flitting from her shoulders, becoming a full skirt at her feet. And from her back poured great silver wings- the silver wings of legend. She was breath-taking even in death.

“I can’t, my love. Did you think I would burden you with truth and then abandon you to an angel’s mercy while you are but mortal?

Grey was shivering and shaking. I wrapped my arms quietly around him, trying to stave his pain. I think it hurt me more to see him like this than it hurt him to feel it.

“But, Aiella, you can’t be my-”

“Yes, listen to the man.” A strong and bitter voice crashed through the air as in a flurry a blue clothed angel lighted on the roof, silver wings folded neatly behind his back.

For being the bad guy, he was very impressive. Silver hair tinged with twilight’s blue graced his head, falling just below his shoulders; eyes holding the depths of the universe, graced with the lamps of the firmament within, as was his position to guide. His skin was smooth and dark with night yet lit from within as a starry sky; truly he was Master of Stars. “Athravel.” I breathed, taking in his magnificence.

Grey stared at him warily. Aiella bit her lip and slipped to the side of the roof. I simply stared. Two angels in one day. It was a bit too much...

“Come, Iriel. I believe we have something to settle.”

“Why prey on a helpless man?” Aiella’s voice was laden with disgust, pain, and dread.

“He is far from helpless. You saw to that yourself, Aiella.” He stared at her with a disgust the matched her own. “Do what you must if it will appease you.”

Aiella nodded, sullen. “Come to me, child.” When no one else moved, I realised that she must be talking about-

“M-me?” I stammered, slightly afraid.

“I don’t think anyone else classifies as ‘child’” Athravel’s irritated voice quipped. I hesitated.

“‘El, go to her. She knows what she’s doing. I really don’t want you to be involved in this. Angels have this nasty habit of holding never-ending grudges as you might have noticed. I’d hate to have you on Athravel’s bad side.” Grey’s voice vibrated through his back, ending in a low, bitter growl with the last phrase.

If I trusted no one else, I trusted Grey, so, I closed my eyes for a second, revelling in his touch, and then slipped from the roof ledge, walking to where Aiella stood. “Thank you, child.” Her voice was soft in my ear. “Forgive me for what I am doing. Though it looks terrible now, it will all become clear in the end.” She drew a sharp breath, “Aiethera!” Grey hissed in pain with the word, doubling over on himself. I started to run to him, but Aiella’s hand on my shoulder held me back. “Stay.” She commanded. It was so tempting to run to him, but I knew better than to disobey an immortal being with death’s powers. “You see?” She murmured.

I gasped as four wings exploded from Grey’s bare-back. They were mostly black but held a sort of metallic silver sheen to them as if all of Iriel’s- his- wings had been combined. Even Athravel took a step back seeing this. “You wouldn’t dare...”

“But I do. He is no longer mortal, my dear. Now you still must fight him?” Aiella’s voice, though her words were hopeful, held only doubt.

“More than ever, my love.” They stared intensely at each other, each hating the other in that moment more than anything else in existence.

Athravel broke off suddenly and ran towards the still stunned Grey. He reacted rather quickly considering, side-stepping just as Athravel hurtled past him. I hissed in dread and fear as the fight ensued. Neither being seemed to be above the other; just as I thought Athravel was going to dominate Grey, Grey shot back with something stronger than I had ever seen- and visa versa- truly they were evenly matched. I couldn’t imagine what Grey’s strength had been when he was still pure angel.

Then suddenly they were on the roof’s edge... and tumbled over, wings locked in combat. It was like time stood still while I ran to where they had gone over. In fact, time had slowed literally, Aiella’s doing, as I later found out. I looked over the edge just in time to see them vanish completely, several feet above the ground. “Grey!” I shouted, but only the echo of my panicking voice answered me. I felt Aiella’s hand on my shoulder. “Why did you- what happened?” I half-growled, half-cried.

“They have gone away from this mortal dimension, companion of Iriel. But rest assured, your Grey will not die and will be victorious in the end. Athravel cannot kill him, not while you hold this.” She pulled a cloudy grey sphere from beneath her dress and placed it gently in my hands. “When I gave him back his wings, I stole from him his soul.” She chanted mechanically.

“This is Grey’s... soul?” I ventured, staring at the ashen orb warily.

“Yes. I give it to you for safe-keeping. Iriel, even while his angelic side was asleep, chose you as his companion. It is only fitting that you hold it. Besides, the only way for his soul to return to the heavens now is through death. I am not mortal, I cannot die. Therefore I cannot bring his soul with me through death. You, however, are mortal and will die when your days are spent. If you carry this soul with you, it will pass with you into our realm. Will you do this for me?”

I closed my eyes tightly, fighting off tears. I was alone again. I was alone with this morbid task of holding onto someone’s soul until I died. But still I nodded, if only for Grey.

“Thank you, child. You will see him again. When your days are spent you will see him, I will make sure of it. For your deed you may even earn yourself a place among the silver wings; at Iriel’s side, if you desire.” I nodded, sniffing. “I will see to it myself, I swear it.” She pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “It will be all right. You will find another companion with a soul as clear as yours. You will not always be alone.” She pulled a chain from her neck and threaded it through the orb so I could wear it like a necklace to make it easier. She looked at me intently. “Thank you, mortal, Iriel truly was not misjudging your character by calling you ‘El. You truly belong with us in the silver circle. I name you now, for you will join us. Kiriai I call you, and Iriel has already included you in us by adding ‘El to your name. Kiriai’el I name you, and you shall be guardian of souls. I look forward to welcoming you to our circle, ‘El. I’ll watch over you ‘till then, you have my word.” She bowed and smiled at me. “Farewell.”

I nodded back, still slightly stunned and gulped back a sob as she faded from my view.

So now I wait, Grey’s soul in my hands, Aiella’s chain binding it around my neck. I wait for the day when the Lady of Light will come and gather my lost soul with Grey’s in her arms and take us home to join the silver circle in the eternal firmament, laced with stars and light.