Book One : The Prophecy : I : Vengeance

I

Vengeance

October 1940

On wrongs swift vengeance waits…

Alexander Pope.

Around him, women, children and men ran in frantic chaos, trying to find shelter from the falling bombs that cascaded through the dark night. With his arms dangling over the sides of the stretcher, Theodore was rushed into St Bartholomew’s hospital. The air was filled with noise and saturated in a filthy stench of blood and death as he was quickly carried down a long, clinical corridor towards the nearest theatre. Coming around from his unconscious state once again he looked up into the faces of the nurses that carried him on the hard stretcher, pale and exhausted with tiny splutters of blood upon their cheeks and their once pristine white uniforms. One of the nurses caught his gaze and said something he couldn’t quite make out. Violently he coughed up blood, turning his body onto its side as he tried to calm himself. His once blue uniform was now burnt and badly stained with dark red blood. Recovering from his fit he turned onto his back once more and found himself staring up at a white light that burned into his retinas. With the help of another nurse, he was lifted onto a cold surface that instantly sent a swift chill through his body. Without time or space in which to breathe a young male doctor covered his face with a mask and he once again found himself unconscious.

*

Theodore did not know how long it was that he had been unconscious only that when he awoke it was daytime and a heavy beam of light shone through the large Georgian windows of ward M4. Opening his eyes fully he saw that his left leg was up in stirrups and his left arm was in a cast. The veil that had shielded him from physical pain instantly dropped and his body seized when aware of the deep pain that radiated throughout him. Theodore cried out aloud for help and was immediately attended too by a petite nurse who came bounding over to him, her cheeks rosy with exhaustion.

“There, there sir, calm down,” she soothed working at a drip that fed into his right hand. “The morphine will help.” And so it did, Theodore felt once again sleepy and fell into a lifeless dream from which he wished he would never awake. And so much of his first week at Bartholomew’s passed undisturbed with Theodore drenched in exhaustion, thankful that he was unable to keep himself awake. His dreams had not been completely without harm, for at times he found himself once more in the cockpit of his spitfire, soaring through the skies of London alongside the rest of his squadron, group 11 of the RAF. Theodore had over the past two years made his way through the ranks of the RAF, finding himself apart of group A, a prestigious group of elite pilots, mainly made up of upper class men. He had loved every moment of his RAF career so far, despite missing his new wife and mother terribly. He had not seen Eveline or Estelle for thirteen months, the last time being his wedding day in which he was heralded off after the signing of the register to head back down to Kent. When asleep he replayed that terrible night, when his spitfire had been shot down by a German Messerschmitt, killing his close friend William.  He had ejected himself from the cockpit, forcing his parachute to open and with heavy injuries tried without success to land within the maze that was London, alit with fire. Unfortunately he found himself being hurled into a building which upon contact he had been forcibly knocked unconscious.

When not dreaming of the terrible events that had occurred that night, he found himself dreaming of Eveline, the thought of his young wife forcing him to stay alive. He succumbed to the memories that evaded his mind, memories of her and memories of their lives together in Keswick. He would find his heart beating hard when reminiscing of the times in which he and Eveline would have as friends ventured across the wild fields of the Lake District, or rowed across the beautiful lake of Derwentwater. But most of all he found his whole body and spirit come to life when thinking of the day of their wedding which took place in the small church of Keswick. She had looked beautiful, wearing a simple gown of cream with wild flowers in her auburn curls. Theodore had to admit that she had seemed wary and nervous, but so were all brides he agreed. He proudly wore his blue RAF uniform and waited for her to walk up the aisle in the arms of Estelle, she nervous and he impatient. Her eyes had glowed throughout the ceremony and he in turn found himself close to tears, ashamed at his unmanly need to cry with joy to finally have wedded his childhood sweetheart. Many of his friends who had married had been killed during raids over France and the Channel, leaving their young wives and families behind. Theodore vowed to himself upon that day that he would not leave this world whilst his wife drew breathe.

As he immersed himself in his memories he could hear a voice calling out to him.

“Captain are you awake?” a male voice enquired, his warm breathe close to Theodore’s face. Theodore groaned inwardly, not wishing to awaken from his peaceful dream. “Captain you must awaken.” Theodore unwillingly opened his blue eyes, looking up into the face of a young man, his eyes also blue, yet darker than his own. Theodore noticed that his leg had now been freed of the stirrups and now lay under the cover of his sheet, beside the other, unharmed leg.

“Who are you?” Theodore asked, his mouth and throat dry from the morphine. Turning his head he looked for water. The young man at his side suddenly brought forth a glass.

“Come you need to sit up first,” he announced to the groggy Theodore. “Here let me help you.” Carefully and with slight pain, Theodore allowed the young man to help him up, setting him against a few pillows before holding a glass of water to his dry and chapped lips. “Drink slowly,” he ordered softly as Theodore sipped on the fresh water. As he took in a few small mouthfuls of water, Theodore let his eyes roam about the ward, filled with soldiers , many asleep and some awake, motionless with their eyes upon the ceiling as though in some terrible state of trauma.

“What day is it?” Theodore asked as the young man set the empty glass down upon a side table.

“It is the 29th of October, Captain.”

“I must send word to my wife, she will be worried,” Theodore said quickly, a wave of anxiety now taking a hold of him as he suddenly found himself wide awake, his mind set to rights.

“Calm Captain, I will make sure your relatives are made aware of your current position.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Galean,” The man announced, sitting up regally. Theodore observed the stranger before him with confusion. He seemed almost unearthly, tall, and lean, with a look almost resonant of a Viking. The man had thick, blonde hair that fell about his strong and hardened face.

“Why are you here Galean?” Theodore asked quietly as a nurse passed him by giving him a smile.

“I have been by your bedside these last few days waiting for you to open your eyes,” Galean began seriously, sitting forward as though afraid that others may eavesdrop. “I am here on a matter of urgency.”

“What has happened?” Theodore asked quickly. “Is it my wife?”

“In part yes, she is no danger I assure you,” Galean cautioned quietly, seeing the distress in Theodores eyes.

“Have you come from the RAF headquarters in Uxbridge?”

“No, I have come on behalf of someone greater.”

“Who?”

“God.”

Theodore looked at the young man for a moment before lying back upon his pillows, forcing his gaze away.

“Be gone you fool. I am not in want of God.”

“I implore you to simply listen to what I have to say,” Galean urged attentively understanding the young captains reaction. “I am no preacher here on the account of converting you. I am an angel.”

“Are you insane? I said leave me. How can you speak of God? Have you looked around you?” Theodore said with feeling, afraid of the man that sat beside him, unmoving and free of fear. “There is no place for God in war.”

“Theodore George Sampson,” Galean said sternly, his eyes now alight. “I am here to protect you and your wife.”

“How do you know my name?” Theodore enquired quietly, fear taking a hold of him.

“I have always known your name,” Galean replied lightly. “And that of your wife; Eveline Celestine Black.”

“What do you want from me?” Theodore cried out, trying to summon a nurse to his bed without luck.

“I want you to listen to me,” Galean replied calmly, unabashed by Theodore’s attempts to gain notice from the nurses. “They will not come unless I ask them too.” Theodore stopped waving his hand and turned to Galean.

“Speak.”

“You harbor gifts quite unknown to those who surround you, am I right?” Galean asked, a flash of curiosity in his eyes. “Do not be scared of speaking the truth, for I too harbor gifts quite like your own.” As he spoke he wavered his hand over the empty glass, filling it with water. Theodore’s eyes widened in awe at the small act of power and suddenly began to take serious note of the man.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Theodore whispered as he was offered the glass of water once more.

“You were not always like this,” Galean said, his hand travelling down from Theodores face to his feet.

“What do you mean?”

“You were not always man.”

“I have always been a man,” Theodore argued defensively, unsure of Galean’s point.

“Tell me, do you remember your parents?”

“They were killed in a car crash,” Theodore retorted, straining to find images of his parents, his brows furrowed together.

“What were their names?”

“I…I,” Theodore struggled as always to find his parents faces and names, an inner struggle never to be shared with anyone, not even Eveline.

“You do not remember them,” Galean said softly, standing up from his chair.

“I have been told trauma has that effect on children,” Theodore announced sheepishly.

“Is that what you believe? That the trauma of your parent’s death has created a blank void within your memories?”

“How else can I explain it?” Theodore asked patiently, watching as Galean stopped in front of his bed, placing his hands upon the frame.

“Maybe you never had parents that died in a car crash….”

“Impossible.”

“And yet you bare gifts that your fellow men cannot possibly know of, gifts that set you apart from man.”

“Are you telling me that my parents are alive?” Theodore quizzed Galean, disbelief saturating his body.

“Your parents, like you were not a part of this world. They now rest among the stars, this you know,” Galean said seriously, the rest of the ward becoming darker.

“What do you want from me?”

“I am here to bring you to our master, long has he awaited your presence,” Galean announced, turning away from Galean and pointing to a door that suddenly appeared before him, filled with light.

“I do not wish to meet your master,” Theodore trembled, shocked that the rest of the ward was not awash with fear at what lay before him, life was simply moving forwards as his own stood very still.

“You can trust me, old friend,” Galean smiled, holding out his right hand.

“You are no friend of mine,” Theodore said loudly as he tried to still his moving legs, now slipping out of the sheets and bed, his feet pressing down onto the cold floor.

“Come….”

Theodore could not stop himself from moving towards Galean, his body covered in a thin nightdress, his feet bare.

“I don’t want to follow!”

“And yet your body says likewise,” Galean smiled knowingly as Theodore came to stand before the open door, his tall frame matching Galean’s.

“You are forcing my body to move when it wishes to stay still,” Theodore said bitterly.

“I am not controlling your body, this I promise. Take my hand Cael,” Galean ordered as he waited patiently for Theodore’s hand.

“My name is Theodore,” Theodore retorted, his hand falling into Galean’s.

“Not among your people it isn’t.”

Galean carefully stepped through the door guiding Theodore through the light. As they passed through the light, Theodore felt something simmer within him, he felt a change occur within the very core of his being. Once through the door he noticed that they had stepped into a large cathedral.

“Where are we?” he asked Galean who let go of his hand and turned to him.

“St Paul’s cathedral.”

“Why am I here?”

“I told you, to meet your master,” Galean re iterated as he walked towards the altar, kneeling before it and muttering something aloud, a language Theodore did not understand and yet felt akin too. The door vanished and they were left in darkness, the light of the London fires filling the cathedral as the loud noises of British and German planes passed over head. Strangely his body felt perfectly fine as he made his way toward the altar.

“My body, it feels different,” Theodore said quietly as he stood beside Galean’s, whose eyes were searching the cathedral.

“That will be the water taking its required affect.”

“You drugged my water?”

“Would you prefer to feel pain in this present moment?” Galean turned his eyes to Theodore.

“I would have preferred the choice.”

Galean smiled deeply at his response, reminded of his old friend.

“How did you find me?” Theodore asked.

“I never lost you, so there was no need to find you.”

Theodore choose not to reply as the cathedral suddenly erupted in a white light, causing him to be momentarily blinded, his hand upon Galean’s arm for balance.

“Do not be afraid Cael,” he murmured as the light faded away revealing the outline of a tall being, coming forward to meet them at the altar.

“Who is that, which such light can flow?” Theodore whispered, suddenly afraid.

“All light comes from Him.”

Theodore felt his body shiver as the outline of the tall being came into sight. A man, who seemed timeless stood before them, tall and regal, robed in a fine golden cloak. Galean suddenly fell into a deep bow, bidding Theodore to follow suite. His knees upon the cold marble floor, Theodore let his gaze rise so that he could take in the man’s face. Gazing up, Theodore felt a spike of awe rip through his being. The man had vivid golden eyes and hair that fell down his back. His face was smooth of lines and yet his eyes almost felt as though they had seen time itself come into being.

“My King, I have brought you Cael as requested,” Galean announced, lifting his own blue eyes to his master.

“Arise,” the man announced firmly, his hands clasped before him in patience. Theodore arose cautiously, unable to take his eyes off the man who now walked around the pair, making for the high altar, his eyes observing the golden walls, engraved with scenes of the bible. After several moments he turned and faced them once more. “Cael, you doubt who you are?”

Theodore found he could not talk and stood silent until he felt Galean nudge him gently, his eyes soft and urging.

“I am confused my lord,” Theodore announced quietly, hanging his head as though he was in shame.

“Are you willing to let me show you who you really are? Cael son of Theadreda and Arimathen.”

The man held out his hand to Theodore.

“I am scared,” Theodore said, his voice filled with breathe.

“Do not be scared Cael, come take my hand.”

Theodore lifted his eyes and nodded, stepping forward with his right hand outstretched. Soon it was within the man’s and he found himself being pulled into a circular current of darkness, the cathedral disappearing entirely from view, everything moulding into one. With a thud he fell onto moist grass, his knees burning from the fall. Beside him he could feel the presence of the man, standing quite still and silent. Theodore raised his eyes from the grass and observed his surroundings. He was upon an island, surrounded by a great lake of water. Away to the west, the sun was setting behind a great range of snow topped mountains, at least two hundred leagues from the lake. Before him stood a tall and ancient tree, its beautifully twisted branches falling over an equally ancient throne. Quickly he stood up and found the mystical man by his side.

“Were am I?” Theodore asked as he took in the fullness of the island, all bare but the tree and throne.

“You are in the Garden of Calhuni,” the man announced, turning and walking closer to the throne.

“Where is this place?”

“This is the Garden of Calhuni which lies within the three kingdoms of Calnuthe, on the planet of Unas,” the man replied quietly, turning his eyes to the lake. Theodore followed his gaze and found his eyes upon a small boat, making its way to the island. Inside the boat were a young couple and their small baby, wrapped in an ivory blanket.

“Who are they?”

“King Elieor of the three kingdoms and my daughter, Unyae, only surviving heir to the kingdom of Heaven.”

“But that would mean that you…,” Theodore turned to the man and suddenly felt inferior, wanting to fall onto his knees out of duty.

“That I am God.”

Theodore could not utter a word and so simply stood until the couple and their boat had reached the shores of the island. Looking up into the face of God, Theodore found sadness in His eyes and wondered what was amiss. Without a word, the man turned and walked away from Theodore and the couple, standing at the far shore with His head bent as though He had felt shame. The couple climbed out of the small boat with their child, struggling to reach the throne which lay beneath a great and ancient tree, as though they were both ill and their legs were unable to function properly.

“My father, he will come,” the young women, her eyes also golden cried as she was helped by her young husband.

“Even if He does, there is no hope,” the King cried out as he forced his wife forward gently.

“He can save us. He will not forsake us!”

“He already has,” the young father said painfully as they finally reached the throne, falling before it. Theodore stepped forward and gazed down at the baby.  A strange feeling ran through him, as though he had been on this island before as though he had held the small child within his arms before?

“I’m scared,” Unyae cried into her husband’s shoulder, holding the young child close to her chest.

“Do not be afraid Unyae, I am here,” Elieor soothed as he coughed up black blood, wiping it from his mouth with his sleeve.

“I cannot feel my legs any longer,” Unyae whispered into her lover’s cloak. As though hearing her parent’s cries, the baby began to cry aloud, her small hands reaching upwards as though needing to wrap her arms about them.

“Stay with me Unyae!” Elieor cried out, placing his index finger into his child’s hand. Theodore knelt before the trio and watched on in horror, what had happened to them?

“Elieor what if he takes our child?” Unyae cried out, coughing wildly into Elieor’s chest, black blood also spilling from her mouth.

“He cannot enter the garden,” Elieor said quietly into her long, auburn hair, hair that reminded him so very much of Eveline.

“There is no one to help her Elieor!” Unyae cried, clutching her child closer to her, despite her strength ailing rapidly. Theodore stood up and quickly strode over to the distraught and distressed man.

“You must save them!” he said loudly beaconing the man to turn to him. “Please!”

“They are already dead,” the man whispered, turning his golden eyes to Theodore.

“Then why am I here?” Theodore urged angrily, turning to face the trio now silent but still moving slightly.

“You will see.”

Theodore groaned and turned, walking back to the trio once more kneeling down before them. Unyae let her head fall back against Elieor’s arm, her golden eyes darkening.

“I see the stars,” she smiled before her last breathe escaped her lungs.

“No!” Elieor cried out, his eyes also darkening. “Unyae! No!” Theodore felt a tear fall his eye as the young man cradled his dead wife. Soon after, the young King also fell silent, his body falling against the foot of the throne, his head falling backwards. Behind him he felt the presence of the man and turned his head upwards to look into his eyes. The man lay a hand upon his shoulder. A moment later, two balls of ethereal light escaped from the young couple’s mouths and ascended into the night sky, suddenly causing a great explosion of light to fill up the darkness as it propelled itself into the night sky. Soon the light died and Theodore was once more knelt in darkness before the dead parents and crying child. Theodore leaned down and touched the babe’s cheek. Her eyes were round and golden, even in the darkness they shone brightly, reminding him once again of Eveline.

“I have been here before,” he muttered out loud, suddenly remembering this night. Behind him two lights formed and he turned his eyes. Two men strode up from the water, robed in white. “Galean,” he whispered, his eyes upon the ethereal form of Galean, who now stood beside him. Beside Galean stood a man so similar to himself he almost thought it was him until at last in that moment he suddenly opened a door that had been tightly shut for a very long time and realised that it had been him and that he had been here before. In shock he got up and walked away, his head in his hands.

“He was right!” he said aloud as Galean picked up the child and nestled her within his arms. “I am not man.”

“No, you are Cael. You are one of my angels,” God announced calmly, his eyes upon the angels who now strode off, leaving the island in a burst of light. A whole stream of memories infiltrated Theodores mind forcing him to fall onto is knees once more. With each memory that erupted from the once tightly shut chamber within a deep and isolated corner of his psyche, Theodore felt himself revert back into his actual form and being.  Galean had been right, he had no human parents, and he had in fact changed into a small boy in order to protect Eveline, the child he and Galean had borne away from this island, this world.

‘I am Cael.”

*

“Master!” Cael bowed before his King and God, Heiden.

“Arise child,” Heiden ordered, helping his angel up. “We must return.”

Together they plunged once more into a current of darkness before they stood once more upon the high altar of St Pauls. Turning he found Galean and opened his arms.

“Friend!” he cried out, embracing Galean tightly. “How could I not see?”

“You did not want to see friend,” Galean announced into Theodore’s shoulder. After a moment they detached themselves from the embrace and turned to their master.

“What happened to her parents?” Theodore asked his master.

“They were poisoned by her surviving son, Heidan.”

“Heidan?” Theodore turned to Galean.

“He is the son of Lagar and Unyae,” Galean explained darkly.

“But how? Unyae was married to Elieor surely?” Theodore asked his master with concerned eyes.

“When Lagar killed my wife and sons, he raped my only surviving child, Unyae,” Heiden exclaimed seriously, unmoving and bent, his face shielded from sight by a lingering shadow. “I had sent her to Unas for protection, unaware that she was with child. I had her bound to the garden of Calhuni and there she gave birth to the son of my eternal nemesis; Lagar, Lord and King of Hell.”

“You did not know this?” Theodore quizzed his King.

“I was blinded by my grief and she held her tongue, not wishing to cause me further pain.”

“What happened to her son?”

“She mothered him until he became too strong, too consumed with rage to be in her presence any longer,” Heiden said darkly. “He left the garden and travelled south to the Kingdom of Ruarr. The Ruarrian King, King Valmor had been executed by the tyrant Islaer, servant of Lagar. Heidan became his protégé until he became too powerful and power thirsty. He had been told of his mother’s marriage to the High King Elieor and the birth of their daughter, Celestine or as you know her to be, Eveline.”

“He killed her parents didn’t he?” Theodore asked quietly, his eyes travelling between Galean and his master.

“Yes,” Galean replied seriously. “He had taken the disguise of one of the royal courtiers and poisoned their wine upon Celestine’s name day.”

“When the court heard of their deaths, Heidan with his army of followers invaded Calnuthe and the city of Caci, taking the throne of Elieor and the Kingdom of Calnuthe,” Heiden said through gritted teeth, turning from his angels and bringing his strong hands down upon the golden table, the force of his act causing the cathedral to shake.

“And we brought Eveline here for safety,” Theodore added, the cathedral now still and silent as the men ruminated on these terrible and dark thoughts. “She is safe yes?”

“No, she is not safe. Lagar has entrusted Belem and Lagmar to finding Celestine,” Galean replied, walking to and fro.

“But how do they know she is here?” Theodore cried out, alarm filling him instantly at the thought of his wife being in danger. His wife he pondered, the words going over and over in his head. As the words rolled around in his mind he suddenly felt his body turn stiff. Angels were forbidden upon penalty of exile or even death to marry any child of their God and King.

“Lagmar has appointed many shadows within the army and city. When you fell from your spitfire and thus were rushed to hospital, a shadow recognised you at once,” Galean said with much sorrow in his voice. “If he is anything like the others he will have passed on this information to Lagmar who will by now know of Eveline’s existence, especially now that you are both married.”

At this all eyes fell upon Theodore who suddenly felt afraid.

“It is forbidden to marry any child of my bloodline,” Heiden said firmly, coming to stand before Theodore, whose eyes fell to the marble ground in shame.

“I did not know that I was who I am when I married her,” Theodore pleaded keeping his head bowed.

“She is meant for another,” Heiden said, his eyes finding Galean whose brows furrowed in confusion. “A man who claims a blood right to Gabriel.”

At this Galean’s eyes widened in horror. His wife and child, Marsalia and Rosai had been murdered twenty years ago. He had met his wife when he had taken up his commission as an angel, leaving his Father the High King of Meer, the Northern Kingdom beyond the mountains of Calnuthe after the death of his mother. She was his intended and no other.

“She is my wife,” Theodore said softly.

“She was never meant to be your wife, but that we cannot change,” Heiden said sadly, knowing only too well the consequences that such a bond would conceive.

“They will know where she is, I must return to her at once!” Theodore announced, lifting his eyes to his master, pleading him to understand.

“Indeed you must,” Heiden proclaimed. “You and Galean must bring her here to St Paul’s.”

“Why here?” Theodore asked, turning his eyes to Galean who shrugged.

“There are few places in which to hide, St Paul’s is one of several. Bring her here so that she can be enlightened as to who she is,” Heiden proclaimed wisely. “And I must be the source of her enlightenment.”

“How will we know you are here?” Galean enquired slowly, feeling the heavy burden of the journey ahead.

“You may call for me, only when she is within this cathedral, do you understand?” Heiden looked at both of his angels.

“Yes.”

“The less she knows the better, for her own safety,” Heiden ordered before he turned from his angels. Theodore stepped forward but was stopped by Galean.

“No,” he mouthed as Heiden was once more eclipsed by white light, thus disappearing and leaving the cathedral once again under cover of darkness. Theodore turned to Galean.

“He killed my parents.”

“I know.”

“I won’t allow him to kill Eveline as well.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to Cael.”

Galean watched as Theodore walked about the high altar in his nightdress.

“What do we do?”

“We need to meet with Lier before we do anything,” Galean said, his hands clasped in front of him calmly.

“Before we return to the hospital ward tell me of your father and brothers? Are they well?” Theodore stood before Galean, a foot taller due to the steps.

“Firstly we are not returning to the hospital it’s too dangerous,” Galean replied his blue eyes bright. “Secondly my brother Beon has waged war upon my father.”

“Why do you not return to your homeland, you are the heir?”

“I cannot return until I know she is safe, if she perishes then the Southern Kingdom perishes along with her,” Galean said seriously, running his hand through his blonde hair.

“What if she does not wish to return to Calnuthe?”

“That I cannot answer,” Galean sighed, his shoulders heavy with burdens he could not easily sweep aside. “I fear her time spent away from her people will not work to her advantage, especially as her half-brother has taken her throne.”

“I would think that is enough reason to go back, if not to claim revenge on behalf of her parent’s death,” Theodore said darkly.

“Revenge is driven by anger and anger can turn a good person into a being that lurks within the shadows,” Galean lectured quietly. “We cannot want that for Celestine.”

“Why does Heiden not kill Heidan? Surely that would simplify matters?”

“You forget, Heidan is his grandson.”

“Who wishes to have nothing to do with the light, who killed his daughter.”

“We must remember how it is that our God is different from Lagar, what makes Him stand apart from those who serve the darkness.”

“He is also a God who can be angered and who can wage war.”

“If Heidan killed Heiden, Celestine may not be so forgiving, she may harbour hopes of redemption,” Galean said quietly, seeing the anger in his friend’s eyes.

“He is beyond redemption in my eyes.”

“In your eyes he is, we know not how Celestine will view things.”

“My wife will want vengeance.”

Galean and Theodore stood firm, their eyes lingering upon one another, divided by opinion, bound by Celestine.

“Come we must away,” Galean said after a moment of silence.

“I need clothes,” Theodore retorted.

“You shall receive everything you need. Take my hand.”

Theodore clasped onto his friends hand and closed his eyes as they were sucked into a dark void. With a thud they found themselves in a poorly lit study, filled with books, paper and maps.

“Still the same,” Theodore smiled, following a quiet Galean out of the study and into a darkened corridor. At the end of the corridor a door stood ajar, letting a little light steep out into the cold hallway. When they reached the door, Galean opened it fully and entered Liers sitting room. Leer sat upon a leather chair in front of a small fire, unmoving.

“I was wondering when you would both appear,” he said quietly, his brown eyes upon the flames.

“We are in need of your counsel,” Galean announced, looking around the room with curiosity. Out of the many homes he had been accustomed to visiting, this was his favourite. Knowledge never looked so literal.

“You wish to know the whereabouts of Lagmar and Belem?” Lier asked, turning his eyes to the young angels, frowning at Theodore’s attire.

“My spitfire was shot down,” Theodore explained quietly, feeling quite naked beneath the fine nightdress.

“I see,” Lier said with a slight smile. “I wondered when I would be seeing you again. Of course I had heard of your heroics in the sky, but never did I imagine in all my days that I would see you.”

“Well here I am,” Theodore opened his arms dramatically.

“Go upstairs, there you will find clothes. Dress quickly and come back down we have much to discuss.”

Theodore turned on his heel and disappeared into the dark corridor, leaving Galean alone with Lier.

“Come sit by the fire, for you are weary and much burdened, Galean son of Ballour.”

Galean sighed outwardly and took a seat opposite Lier, his hair once raven now grey and fine.

“Beon has indeed lifted his sword I hear,” Lier said softly, watching intently as Galean’s eyes fell to the flames of the fire.

“He believes my father killed his wife, Turtha,” Galean replied, crossing his long legs.

“Of course he does, how else can he carry the guilt of his wife upon his shoulders? Knowing that she had been poisoning your father’s wine,” Lier muttered darkly.

“She was acting on the orders of a black witch,” Galean said with a glum expression upon his face. “Why Beon fell under her spell still confuses me.”

“Beon was always moved by power it isn’t that hard to understand his motives, men moved by power hate to stand in the shadow of those greater than themselves.”

“My parents brought us up as equals, power never entered their equation,” Galean said as he fiddled with his long fingers.

“They may have wished for their sons to believe in equality but even they knew that such a goal was wishful thinking and could only be determined by the characteristics of those involved,” Lier said with great empathy. “Beon was never a child who took part in the act of sharing.”

“Even so, I never thought him capable of this.”

“That he should want what you have? How could you not expect this of him?”

“I had thought that the fullness of our parents love would have transcended all thoughts of treason and greed,” Galean said, his eyes lifting from the flames and resting upon Lier, who sat forward, placing a frail hand upon his own.

“Then you have a good heart, naive at times I grant you, but good none the less.”

“I feel myself pulled in two directions,” Galean admitted quietly.

“You sense that you should be both defending your Kingdom and Celestine? There is no shame in how you feel.”

“My lack of commitment to my people and Dulthe in particular has left them both vulnerable to power driven men.”

“You and I both know that every heir to the kingdom of Meer spends time in the service of Heiden, it is nothing out of the ordinary Galean,” Lier replied solemnly. “Should you return to Meer? Yes I think the time has come to seriously consider returning if you wish to protect your people and throne.”

“I will return when Celestine is safe and out of harm’s way,” Galean said with an air of finality. Lier examined the young man’s face, strong and fair.

“Yet something lingers…,” Lier sighed. “Tell me what is that stirs beneath your calm exterior?”

“Something that passed between Heiden and myself in St Paul’s,” Galean admitted.

“What passed between you?”

“Theodore proclaimed that he had married Celestine,” Galean whispered, leaning forward slightly so that their heads met. At this Lier gasped ever so slightly and placed a hand upon his quivering mouth.

“He married Heiden’s granddaughter without telling him?”

“To be fair he had no idea who he was, so we cannot place all the blame upon his shoulders,” Galean sighed.

“What else occurred?”

“Heiden exclaimed that Celestine was bound to another, a man whose bloodline can be traced back to Gabriel’s,” Galean whispered, looking around to make sure the coast was clear of any eavesdroppers. Lier sat back into his chair, his eyes on Galean attentively.

“And you think he meant you?”

“When he said those words he looked at me directly,” Galean admitted, letting his head fall into his hands, tense and stressed.

“Interesting,” Lier muttered under his breathe.

“It is of course entirely wrong that he should presume I am that man,” Galean said with authority. “I wish for no wife. I have had my fill of love. And if he indeed referred to me as that man then he is wrong. Theodore is my best friend and I would never presume to take his wife from him.”

“No one is presuming that you should do such a horrid thing, but…,” Lier removed his hand from his mouth. “There must be truth in Heiden’s words, for he would never utter a lie.”

“I do not believe in fate as you do Lier. I am not bound to this woman despite her position,” Galean argued hotly. “I will help him to bring her to safety and then I shall return to my own people. My heart died with my family a long time ago, never to resurrect itself, not even for Heiden.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Lier lied seeing the anguish in Galean’s eyes as he sighed deeply. Galean and Lier sat in silence until Theodore returned promptly unaware of their conversation.

“Right let’s get down to business shall we?”

*

“They congregate at the old Barnes Cemetery,” Lier said as they leaned over a map of London, his index finger upon the cemetery.

“And our purpose in going there is?” Theodore asked aloud.

“We need to know if Lagmar knows about Celestine and what better way to do that than walk into the fire?” Lier said with perched brows, his eyes dancing.

“You mean to say that we angels will purposefully walk into a cemetery filled with shadows?” Theodore asked, his face pale and withdrawn at the thought.

“Yes, you and I will enter the cemetery as shadows using our abilities at disguise for safety,” Lier said to the Theodore with certainty.

“And what pray will Galean be doing whilst we walk purposefully into a pit of shadows?”

“I shall be on the train to Keswick to collect your wife and mother, bringing them south to the city of Bath,” Galean said quietly, a wave of anxiety passing through him at the thought of meeting Celestine.

“But she does not know you,” Theodore retorted dryly.

“Which is why you will write a letter explaining to her that I am your friend and that you wish to meet both herself and your mother in Bath for the month,” Galean replied flatly.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t go to Keswick instead,” Theodore muttered.

“Lagmar would spot me a mile off,” Galean explained. “I would only harm the mission.”

“Lagmar and Galean have a particular dislike against one another,” Lier intervened.

“As do I,” Theodore said with feeling. “He did murder my parents after all.”

“Yes he did, but you however did not murder his son,” Lier replied curtly. Theodore looked across the table at Galean, whose eyes where upon the map.

“You killed his son? Why?” Theodore asked.

“He raped my wife and set my daughter alight, remember?” Galean said coldly. Theodore and Lier stared at Galean with open mouths and horrified gazes.

“Not even I knew that,” Lier whispered.

“Yes I remember,” Theodore added darkly. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, it was entirely out of your hands,” Galean said through gritted teeth, wishing the subject to be closed.

“Still.” Theodore whispered. The men stood quietly unable to speak. Galean feeling the tenseness of the air, stood away from the table.

“We have little time in which to contemplate my woes. I will make for Keswick in the morning.”

“I will get to work on writing a letter,” Theodore announced. “Do you have paper and a pen?” he enquired, looking across at Lier.

“Of course, you will find both in the study down the corridor to the left.”

“Thank you,” Theodore replied, exiting the room slowly, turning to glance at Galean with a heavy sigh. With Theodore gone, Lier closed the door and turned to Galean.

“Such disaster and you keep it from an old friend? Why?”

“You were aware that I killed Lagman?” Galean said under his breathe needing to seep into the wall for sanity.

“Of that I was aware, why you killed him not so.”

“What benefit would it have brought?”

“Understanding. It would have brought understanding.”

“It is a subject I still cannot bring myself to talk about,” Galean said as he placed his hands upon the hearth, his eyes upon the dying embers.

“That I understand,” Lier said softly. “Does your father know?”

“He knows that they died, not that I killed their murderer.”

“Will you tell him?”

“No.”

“Why ever not?”

“How would it aid his current state?”

“He would understand why you stayed away for so long.”

“He knows why I have stayed away,” Galean said abruptly, a flicker of pain igniting within him.

“He knows of one reason as to why you have stayed away, he does not know of the other reason.”

“Enough!” Galean cried out unable to take much more. “As I have said, it is a subject not even I can talk about. Let us leave it for now. I am tired and in need of some sleep, may I use one of your guest rooms for the night?”

“Of course you may,” Lier said quietly as Galean walked away from the fire and made for the door.

“I will be away early, I must return to my house to pack for the journey.”

“I will have breakfast ready for you.”

“Thank you,” Galean whispered before taking his leave.

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