The Fallen

Chapter Four: Choices

Draven sat on a bed of pillows in the candlelit tent at the edge of the city. Nashti’s hips swayed as she took slow steps toward him and let her thin veil fall from her face and shoulders. The light from the small fire at her back flickered on the tent walls. When she was close enough, she knelt before him. Draven’s heart was beating so rapidly he thought it might explode out of his chest. Nashti put her hands on his thighs and batted her dark eyelashes.

“Stop.” He pushed her hands away and got to his feet. He walked to the center of the tent and turned to face her.

Nashti had turned and was leaning against the pillows. She looked at him, then around the tent. “I do not please you, lord?”

Draven laughed and shook his head. “That, that’s not it.”

Nashti stood. “Then, the tent is not to your liking. Tell me what you desire, and I shall change it, lord.”

Draven winced. “Lord? Rearrange everything to meet my desires?” 

Nashti was silent. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it.

“Is this really the way?” Draven asked. “A caravan of strangers comes to your home, and the men of your city give away their daughters as if they were cattle?” He took a step toward her. “You just do whatever some man says, and that’s supposed to be normal?”

“Everyone has a place in a civilized society,” Nashti said. She took a step toward him.

“Doesn’t seem very civilized to me.” He took another step. You spent the day serving strangers, and now you’re willing to throw your body at the mercy of someone you don’t know.”

Nashti took another step. “Someone I want to know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

She closed the gap between them and reached for Draven’s hand. Her touch sent a shiver throughout his body. His breath came out in a shudder. He turned his head and pulled his hand back. “No.”

Nashti stroked his cheek. “Is it the custom of the lords of the far north to resist their desires?”

Draven gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. He gazed into her grey-green eyes and imagined getting lost in them. She tried to put her other hand on his chest, but he turned his back to her and walked toward the fire. A tall shadow crossed in front of the tent. Draven turned and hunched down. He motioned for Nashti to be silent and lie on the pillows. She did, and he crept toward the back flap of the tent. As silent as he could manage, he pushed the flap aside and sprang out into the darkness.

He slammed into someone. They both grunted, and Draven fell on his back. He looked up into the pale face of Morane. The big watcher reached down and helped him to his feet. Draven brushed himself off and then glared at his friend.

“Why are you sneaking around my tent, Morane?” The pale watcher was silent, looking back and forth between Draven and the tent. Draven held up his hands. “Well?”

Morane stroked his chin. “You didn’t eat anything at the banquet tonight.”

Draven felt his heart drop. “What?”

“The servants took your trays while they were still full. You hadn’t touched them, and you didn’t drink anything either.”

“And you were so worried about it that you decided to sneak up on me in the middle of the night?”

“Where were you when we took the oath, Draven?”

Draven tried his best to make his eye roll authentic, but his mind was racing and panic was setting in. “At the back. You know I don’t like being that close to Semyaza.” He chuckled. 

“I looked,” Morane said. “I didn’t see you.”

Draven smiled and held up his hands. “Okay, you caught me. I was having a little too much fun with my new invisibility power.”

Morane nodded. “Hmm. Tell me again why you were granted that ability?”

Draven shrugged. “I told you. One day the watchers will observe man from down here, not just from the Astral Plane.” Draven was careful not to say anything else. He knew his words were true, but he didn’t want to answer any more questions and be in a compromising situation where he would be forced to choose between the truth and a lie.”

“So all of the watchers will be granted this?”

Draven laughed. “Well, maybe if we hadn’t left Mount Hermon.” He slapped Morane’s shoulder. “Guess we’ll just have to go without that ability when we take it back by force.”

“So you’re still up for the task?”

Draven could not answer that question without lying. It had only been a day, and he had ruined his cover. He decided to play this game in a new way and folded his arms. “Why are you questioning me? When have I ever done anything to make you not trust me? What if I come sneaking around your tent with a bunch of accusations? Huh?”

Morane smiled. “You’re right.” He looked at the tent once more and back to Draven. “That’s a beautiful woman in there. Have a good night, Draven.” He started to walk away but turned back. “One thing, though. I didn’t make any accusations. I only asked you questions, the last of which you didn’t answer.”

Draven was silent as Morane walked into the night. 

Enoch stepped back from the ledge and took a deep breath. He waved his hand as Michael had shown him, and the scene outside Draven’s tent vanished, replaced with Angor forest. He scratched a summary of the scene into his book and then sat in the tall-backed chair one of the watchers had brought him. He set the book on the table next to the chair and scooped up the small, half-eaten cake he’d been nibbling on for the better part of the day. The watchers told him the cake was made of something called manna. It tasted like honey and was surprisingly filling. He finished the cake and sighed.

“I cannot imagine anyone ever getting tired of eating that,” he said to himself.

“I am glad you enjoy it,” Michael said as he approached. Enoch was mesmerized by the confident stride of the archangel. He started to rise, but Michael motioned for him to stay seated. “Do you need anything?”

Enoch shook his head. “No, thank you. But I am curious about something.”

“Draven?”

Enoch nodded. “From what I’ve seen so far, it seems he stayed true to the task you gave him. Even when confronted by Morane.”

“So far being the key to what you have just said, Enoch.”

“You seem upset when his name comes up.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped slightly. “They were all my brothers, Enoch. Their actions indeed upset me. And more. Their betrayal is an ever-open wound in my heart.”

“But not as painful as Draven’s?”

Michael was silent for a moment, staring out over the horizon. Finally, he looked at Enoch with a grim expression. “You have much to record. I will not disturb you any longer.”

“But you are not—”

“Uriel will provide whatever you need,” Michael said, interrupting. He turned to leave but called out one last time to Enoch. “Write what you see, Son of Jared. Not what you feel or wish to see.”

Enoch stared after the archangel until he had disappeared into the temple at the edge of what Enoch could see. He clutched his book in one hand and the quill in the other as he stood and walked back to the ledge. He waved his hand, expecting to see the village of Ubel again. To his surprise, the scene before him transformed from Angor Forest to the Astral Plane. It was disorienting, to say the least, but Enoch found himself standing between the wraiths of Michael and Draven over three hundred years in the past. He scrambled back, gasping, then calmed himself and began to write.

“You are troubled,” Michael said. “I did not expect to see you so soon, Draven.”

Draven lowered his head and then nodded.

“Come, rest.” Michael put his arm around Draven’s shoulders and led him to an outcropping of large boulders that had been carved into chairs and decorated with red cushions and gold pillows. They sat across from one another. 

“They are fallen,” Draven said. He sat at the edge of the seat with his elbows on his thighs and his fingers laced together. 

Michael leaned back and flopped his head into a pillow. “So soon?”

“The people of the city were completely enchanted by Semyaza’s displays of power and knowledge,” Draven said. “We looked like fools. They should’ve seen right through us, but they hung on every word.”

“What do you mean by his displays?”

Draven looked up, and his eyes were glazed with tears. “There was a lot of argument over whether gifts should be given to the leaders of the city. Semyaza and Ezeqiel finally agreed to share hidden knowledge with them, and they impressed the people of Ubel with feats of strength and speed.” He laughed, although it came out like a wounded sob. “They even made a shimeera fly.”

Michael sat forward. “What! Are you telling me the truth, Draven?”

Draven sprang to his feet. “Are you going to accuse me of lying, too?”

Michael held his palms out toward him. “Draven, please. What has happened to disturb you so?”

Draven sat and pushed his locks back. “Semyaza has begun teaching the people of Ubel to extract the stronger ore from the mines and, once they do, he will teach them to craft it into weapons and machinery.”

“They seek to make themselves gods on Earth,” Michael said. 

Draven nodded.

“And the citizens have accepted the watchers?”

Draven snorted. “A lot more than just accepting. They welcomed us with open arms, fed us, and then the men of the city offered their daughters up like pottery. They treat their women as objects. Like cattle.”

“Were you tempted?”

“Yes, but I did not give in. To maintain appearances I went into the tent of a woman.” He held up a hand when Michael raised his eyebrows. “Nothing happened. She is asleep, but Morane suspects something.”

“Ah,” Michael said. “So he is the one who accused you.”

“Yes, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Perhaps you should not go back.”

“What about gathering as much information as possible?”

Michael shrugged. “I never thought they would sink this low in one day, and you have already given us a great deal of information. The next gathering before the Most High is soon. We can observe what happens between now and then from here.”

“What if they teach the people more of the hidden knowledge?” Draven asked. “We need to know what they’re doing.”

“The risk is great now that Morane is suspicious. We cannot put you in a position in which you would be forced to choose between revealing your mission or lying, Draven.”

“Just give me a little more time. I might be able to persuade them to come back.”

“Come back?”

“Yes. Michael, don’t you want to see them repent? To come home?”

Michael stood. “They are forbidden from returning to this holy mountain. For their sins, they will be banished to darkness for eternity.”

Draven stood. “You are not the Most High.”

“No, but I do know that He will not grant them a pardon for what they have done or what they will do.”

“How can you be so sure? Does He not delight in mercy?”

“Indeed,” Michael said, nodding. “He granted mercy to Adam when he transgressed. He granted mercy to Cain after he slew his own brother. And what did Cain do? He taught his children the ways of evil, and Ubel’s wickedness is the result. Do you not realize what abominations will come from the joining of the Malakim to the daughters of men?” Michael sighed. “I fear there may come a time when the Creator regrets His creation.” 

“That’s a terrifying thought,” Draven said.

“It should be. For what they have done, our brothers will not be granted mercy. They were given the space and freedom to repent before they committed this sin. Now they will learn that the Most High will not abide by the transgression of his commands.”

“Then let me try to persuade them to stop before they make things worse.”

Michael walked a few paces away and looked out over the horizon. “Do you not think I know of your affinity for the humans?” 

“That’s not what this is.”

“Perhaps you must learn this on your own.” He turned and faced Draven. “Go then, but know that if you succumb to the temptations of the world you are entering, you will be banished from this place.” 

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to learn about mercy,” Draven said.

“Return before the gathering, or do not return at all.”

Draven laughed and shook his head. “When did Michael become so cold?”

Michael didn’t respond. He stood in silence for a few moments and then stomped away.

Enoch waved his hand, and the scene disappeared. He slumped into his chair and let his book close in his lap. He stayed that way for a long time, staring silently into a lightning storm in the distance. The last words Michael had spoken to him looped through his mind.

Write what you see, Son of Jared. Not what you feel or wish to see.

*Please note this is a work in progress. The final story might be extremely different. All feedback is welcome!