Angelsin

Chapter 2-2

""Don"t do it, please!""

"No, of course not!" replied Ruiel ruthlessly, grabbing the base of the small wings and plucking out the silver feathers wrathfully.

A cry of a child"s wail, unheard before, resounded through the hell. Little Mark was unable to escape the firm grip. From his black beady eyes, the crimson teardrops streamed achingly on his white face. Tightly, hugging his mother, he yelped with each peck. Without effort, Ruiel plucked out the feathers that never before saw sunlight. Now only a couple were left at the wing bases. In the most delicate spot. A final whine and the job was done.

Little Mark collapsed limply against his mother. His tiny, n***d feet quivered on the stone.

Weeping, Almira held her son, who had lost his weak glow.

Ruiel was satisfied with the sight. The child"s wings ached so fiercely that there was not a drop of strength remaining to hide the n***d, b****y display they presented. He heaved a sigh.

""This child was born from the darkness of hell. Here down deep, he can"t learn to fly."" He glanced at Almira, standing with the child in her arms. ""In a few years, he"ll be better."" And the angel turned his back on the woman. Snow-white, shining, diamond-edged feathers glittered on his vast wings. ""Get Abaddon to come and take your son to Earth and teach him how to fly.""

Almira"s teary eyes grew wide and trembling, and she exclaimed:

""Abaddon!"" She didn"t have to think twice. Happy to be able to release her son on Earth. Into a world that her child"s eyes have never beheld nor his senses imagined. Finally to step into the world of the light.

After some minutes a loud whistling noise followed, a flapping sound of wings from one of the dark tunnels. As the Seraph approached, Ruiel gazed at her, looking smaller.

With serious black eyes, Abaddon peered at the tortured wings of the little boy. Shaking with tears, Almira hugged him tightly. Only seven years old, the child didn"t glow as he had a few years ago when his mother hung his cross over his neck.

""Ruiel..." turned to him. "Why?" asked the angel, bewildered. Though he also knew very well that at some point, before a child becomes a full-grown angel, it sheds the soft filial feathers. It is true, that this is a much more gradual phenomenon, which takes years if not decades or even centuries while the feathers are exchanged. But the process demands exposure to sunlight.

A wicked smile crossed Ruiel"s face, and he moved closer to Almira, with nowhere to retreat. She was backed into a corner. Ruiel caressed Mark"s tousled black hair. He wiped the tears of blood from the little boy"s slumbering face with his big fingers.

"For a while, take him far from here" Ruiel added, flashing light of long-forgotten fondness in his blue eyes. ""Near to Heaven,"" he said, and then wiped away Almira"s clear tears. ""This is a child born to reign. But only when he has witnessed everything will he know how to become great. He will only be able to shine if his wings are touched by the light of the sun," and then he lifted the child from Almira"s arms and gave it to Abaddon. ""The powers inherited from his mother will soon show themselves. Then he will be able to return here on his own. Keep him safe until then.""

""Strange to hear you say that" Abaddon hugged the child. Ruiel"s smile hid a stern fatherly one.

""He is not human. In his soul, only a faint grain of dust was left to mimic a man.""

""Protect him," Almira gently and joyfully kissed her sleeping son"s cheek.

The Seraph regarded her smiling face with wonder as if she had breathed a sigh of relief. Turning his back on hell, he took the child from there, and carefully laid the sleeping boy on his stomach, barely winged and sleeping.

▼

Mark has woken up in the mountains inside a cottage. Scents that he had never felt before caught his nose. Fresh scents of woods, meadows, and blossoms wafted in the cold mountain breeze. There were strange noises from all directions. A strong blast of wind creaked and rustled in the age-old cottage.

Climbing off the worn mattress he suddenly sensed softness beneath his bare soles. His black curls limped as he curiously ran against the window in his little white kilt. He was amazed to discover that the cold glass warmed rapidly under his small hands.

Behind the glass it was bright. He squinted for a long time as his black eyes accustomed themselves. Wordlessly, he looked up as the trees bowed to the strong wind. The stream water sparkled in the sunshine, which warmed his cheeks even through the glass.

All at once, the door opened.

""Woke up?"" Abaddon smiled at the joyful face of the little angel in heaven.

""Where is Mom?"" the small child wanted to know in a stern voice. Oh, that"s a change, said the seraph to himself.

""Your mother had to stay in hell. Ruiel released you so that you can learn to fly.""

""Fly?"" The boy asked, turning his eyes emerald.

""Yes. But for that, the feathers must grow back. You won"t be able to disguise those wings for a good length of time. They will also be somewhat heavy. In the meantime, you will live here with me in the mountains. Get out for a while," said the seraph, beckoning the child.

Opened the door and waited. As soon as the child appeared in the light, his entire frame glowed.

Even his eyes turned black again.

""Amazing! It"s... wonderful!"" the child said with a reverent and joyful smile he had never seen before, then raised his hands to the sun.

""Mark, who is Ruiel?"" asked the seraph with a serious look, and the child smiled at him. He stretched out his bare wings a fraction. Still shaking with pain, he wanted the sun to warm him.

""Well, my daddy!"" he said brightly. The sound of his tinkling child"s voice floated softly in the wind towards the seraphim, who gazed in wonder at the little angel. An indomitable brightness and an angelic fondness assailed his soul. This force compelled him to swear an oath, to bow down before the child. His eyes burned red, then a smile of surprise spread across his face, petrified with surprise. Oh my," he involuntarily spread his ashen wings. He raised the powerful wings, six meters in span.

The small child was amazed.

""Why do you have so many wings?"" he asked quietly.

""Because I am the son of a seraph,"" Abaddon smiled. ""I only use all of them when I must reach the heavens.""

""And you have to go there now?""

""No," sighed the seraph. ""They appeared only because your "daddy" had given you something powerful," he said with a smile, stroking the little boy"s head. ""More than anything...""

▼

""Shining angel... have a look!" rang in Ruiel"s ears a child"s thin voice. ""I am a blue flower!"" The Devil closed his eyes. Somehow only the swirling shape of a small girl emerged in his mind. Her playful little dress was spinning high on the flowery field of the Garden of Angels, then she flopped to the ground, dizzily. Giggling brightly. ""I wilted.""

▼

Abaddon gazed at the sky gravely.

""See this world," he smiled, turning to face the shaggy child lying beside him. Mark raised his hand to the sun. The massive tree"s leaf shadows played a dance with the sun, fracturing the scorching rays in a glimmering twinkle.

""I"ve seen it before..."" sighed Mark, ""Mother has shown me the whole world.""

Abaddon"s smile on his lips was sad.

""Well, then come!" he stood up, and Mark watched him, puzzled.

""Where? They haven"t sprouted yet!" he peered at his wings. But the white plume showed only at the tip of the wings.

""You don"t need them. And anyway..."" Abaddon headed in the direction of the little wooden house, ""it takes a lot more time. Are you able to hide them?"" Mark did not answer. A dim light passed over his wings, covered in reddish skin, and disappeared. ""Let"s go...""

But Mark stumbled as he walked, falling to his knees upon a sharp rock. The unexpected pain cast tears in his green eyes, and he remained still. Abaddon, puzzled, leaned over to support the child. The small legs showed crimson lines of blood running down the white skin.

"It hurts so much!" finally cried Mark, and Abaddon"s eyebrow arched up.

""Here, let"s nurse this..." he picked up the sobbing child in his arms.

▼

""Keep blowing..." mumbled the crying Mark while the cold water washed off his little knees.

Abaddon sighed and shook his head, chuckling softly. ""Something funny?" asked Mark, wiping his tears.

""Everything," Abaddon smiled.

▼

Two years later...

Alaska"s frozen landscape in blinding whiteness... In the crowded market of the small town, Abaddon tugged the thick scarf over Mark"s nose and turned to one of the vendors.

""Do you know a place to stay?""

""Well, it depends. How many nights, several people?" the bearded man watches the couple in front of him thoughtfully.

""It would extend over a longer period. This winter, for me and my son... I have a few additional requests..."" Abaddon reaches into his pocket and takes out a bundle of money.

The vendor stares at him, confused.

""Why don"t you check into a hotel?""

""One room will be fine.""

""Where"s the child"s mother?" the vendor looks at Mark.

"In the South.""

""South?" he wonders, then returns his gaze to the child. Mark"s little hands are touching the expensive furs. ""Don"t touch them!" he says loudly, and Mark"s hand stops in mid-air. He peers at Abaddon, frightened, but the man pulls him closer.

""Stay...""

""Looks like the one under Mom..." says Mark quietly.

""Fur? In the south?" laughs the vendor, seriously looking at Abaddon and then at the money held out to him.

""What kind of fur is that?" asks Abaddon.

""Do you want that too?" says the vendor, counting the money.

"Fifty thousand," says Abaddon, and reaches for the fur. The soft touch of the hair evokes warmth.

"Vicuna"s fur," the vendor grumbles

""How much do you want for it?""

""It"s not for sale,"" sighs the vendor, then reaches for the expensive mane.

""Is it yours?""

""No. It was ordered in advance. It"s sold. The initial owner"s descendant will come for it. And by the way..."" the salesman notes, ""It"s the most expensive piece of fine fur.""

Abaddon smiles.

""Whose is it?""

""No name... Not even my elders know. They don"t even talk with us. I"ve never seen how it looks, I just know that every third year, there is someone, who brings the old one, takes the new one, and always pays with diamonds. What"s the extra request?""

""Has it already passed three years?""

""Too many questions, stranger..."" grins the vendor, and Abaddon sighs.

""My son needs a playmate. And we"re tired...""

▼

The sled is floating down the hillside. Mark chuckles as he adjusts his hat, his face pinched by the frost, but laughs constantly.

""More!" he jumps down from the sleds and runs again, Abaddon is pulling the string of the sled, and Mark is hurrying up the hill when all of a sudden silence. Abaddon turns back, and Mark is nowhere in sight. He hurries ahead, following in the child"s footsteps, then stops. A polar bear is blowing air in front of Mark.

""Hey, hey..."" he says quietly, but the snow crunches under his feet. ""Don"t move..."" he whispers. ""Breath..."" but as Abaddon approaches, the bear shakes his head with a growl and rises to his feet.

A piercing child"s scream echoes into the night, followed by a loud c***k of the rifle. Mark"s lips are silenced by Abaddon"s hand, but the powerful paw of the bear catches him on the back as he jerks the child away. One more shot and the bear turns away.