Fall From Eden, a Spiritual fanfic

Redemption

His gleaming raven wings spread behind him as he crouches on the crystalline rock. The subtle curve where his neck and shoulder joins would inspire many works of arts, if people could only see him, but divine beings are ever fickle and reveal themselves only to people they consider worthy. They no longer rule the heavens, but they have never let us forget that they were once our masters.

And now this former master has a chain around his ankle, shackling him to the crystal sung into existence. The fetter is made of supple iron and silver, some gossamer moonlight woven into the curious metal: an alchemy far beyond any human craftsmanship. The Lord of Heaven decreed that it be his sentence, and for untold seasons of millennia, the angel has sat here, watching the universe tilt slowly towards anarchy.

"It is not fair," he whispers, that voice mesmerizing in its liquid sullenness. "Why should you humans be allowed to ruin your world? Come, sweetling, free me of this prison, and I will show you wonders untold."

The transparent walls around him blur into a murky tableau, revealing all other angels suspended in the air like frozen sculptures. Some are in mid-flight, their wings in glorious color, battle cries ripping from their throats - if only they had voices. Still others hang upside down, their wings drooping, water blazing along the edges of the feathers. And yet some more have vivid bruises mapping their marble faces and bodies, a splash of violent color marring their granite beauty.

"We were all punished," the angel whispers, still in that dry paper-thin tone. The chain on his ankle rattles as he shifts his position on the perch. "For what sin, you ask? For the sweet sin of loving you humans too much. The Lord of Heaven is overly proud and suffers no dissenting worshippers, not even from his ranks."

He scratches a mark on his glittering boulder, a flaw that immediately fades once he removes his talons. One for every day he has stayed in this dreamless confinement, one for every day he has told himself he is a great champion of humankind. A lie, a truth, what do they matter? Here, they mean the same thing.

"I am so hungry..." he sighs.

With a swift grasp of his talons, he swipes at a fellow angel hanging above his head. He tugs on the feathers and tears into the cartilage, the bones snapping under his teeth. The clear ichor trickles from his mouth as he closes his eyes in bliss. Angels do not bleed like us, but the ichor in their veins is sweet and potent: a dizzying drink that divulges grand visions of what was and what is and what will be. And when the images come, they flaunt themselves in a panorama all around us, ever disappearing if one stares directly at them.

The second angel sprawls across his lap, a doomed present for him as he toys with the feathers. "He was my friend once," he says, stroking the wings with a surprising tenderness. "We played in the Garden of Eden, we dipped our feet in the waters of the Flood, we cherished your people..." He gazes upwards at the other divine beings nailed to nothingness. "How were we to know our love would not be returned?"

Desire roils in his fathomless stare as he shivers his wings. He stretches his talons outwards, his mouth parting slightly as if hoping for a kiss. "I loved your people once, before you abandoned us," he pleads, his gaze softened by memories of his doomed romance with humanity. "Will you not love me again?"

He's still waiting for that answer.

AUTHOR NOTE: This is Kendal's fault once again. Yes.