Excerpt: The Widening Gyre

Gabriel’s wings continued to beat apace, faster and faster. His whole body felt as if it had been wound tighter and tighter since they had heard the chiming call of Metatron’s abandonment. He did not have the elder seraph’s faith that Metatron was seeking a way to end this; abandonment it truly was, for Metatron knew as well as they the cost of the last battle. Thousands of angels had perished when Lucifer fell, and thousands more sent with him into the sucking darkness of Hell. The glowing fury of God’s rage had burnt out yet more angels, faithful ones, who could no longer hear the call of God’s love over the despair His rage has caused in them. But now was not as then; then, there were a thousand thousand who fought. Now it would be only the two of them.

Metatron knew his aid could have turned the tide, Gabriel said, his words bitter. He would acquiesce to this brother he loved. And die for it. And he left us to face it alone.

Yes. Michael said, the word infused with compassion and love. He reached out his right hand to brush Gabriel’s cheek and his touch burned like fire.

Gabriel released his sword’s pommel to grasp his brother’s hand fiercely. Throwing his great wings wide for balance, he brought the two smaller pair around his body. The heat off the wings lanced through him, warming him for the first time since they had been abandoned. He pointed the tips of his toes in pleasure. With careful, measured movements, Gabriel brought the sword forward, raising it high so that the pommel was level with his face. Equally deliberately, Michael mirrored his movements. They were paired well, the Lord’s favoured.

Gabriel slid his left hand up the sword, so that it rested flat on the blade above his grip. Held in such a manner, the carved pomegranate that formed the sword’s pommels lay upside down; the tiny crown of the fruit pointed toward the seraphim’s feet. Truth and betrayal had always marked their work, and the pomegranate commemorated these things. Truth of the knowledge of good and evil, the truth of the ancient priesthood of Israel, the truth of the kingship of Christ. Betrayal in the same names, the man and woman driven forth from the Garden at the point of a sword; the merciless scattering of Israel; the betrayal of Christ by one he loved, necessary but painful all the same.

And here, at the end of all things, truth and betrayal yet again. Well and so, let it begin.