Thirteenth of The Blue

V

A CLOUDLESS SKY WAS lit up by the morning sun that was a ball of white light threatening the landscape below. The morning light crept on the land from the east with the swiftness of a breeze. The dark seawaters when hit by the sunlight instantly turned to opalescent blue as if a wizard is making his works turning colors from something to another.

            Deep from the placid blue waters, a hammerhead shark swam beside a sea urchin the size of a fist. It eyed it sideways, its mind deciding whether it belongs under its chain of foods. Deciding it is not a prey, it then it continued its course, leaving the little red creature on its wake and was instantly looking for a different prey. It went up to the surface as it spotted something peculiar.

            It slowed down relying only on its momentum as it eyed something that merely do not belong, a white and long thing that looks alive and is dancing with the rhythm of the sea current. But as it neared towards the object, he found it disinteresting either and swam away to the deeper part of the Pacific Ocean.

            Archangel Michael looked down at the departing sea creature as it moved away. He is draped in white tunic that was tied with a knot formed on his left waist by a long wide strap of same color. From the knot, a long part of the strap is spilling way below his toes that is touching the wavy seas below. That part which is dipped down into the water attracted the hammerhead shark which is infamous as one of the  killing machines of the deep blue waters.

            Archangel Michael is one of the high celestial beings leading a choir of angels which is equal to a division of the heavenly force. There are many arguments about him all throughout various religions which believe in beings of the afterlife. But none of the myths and beliefs seems to fit. His name means the likeness, or even, the kindness of God. He was depicted in some arts as a dragon slayer and on a popular brand of alcoholic drink in the Philippines; he defeated Satan with a Kris, a sword with a wavy blade.

            Like the popular arts, Michael is a true warrior representing the heavens and not just a mere messenger. Long and straight silver hair that reaches his shoulder tops his nearly oval face which is armed with a pointed chin. The existence of masculinity is not abundant on his face and he looks like one of those female angels. His brow was white and thin, and is the only facial hair except the curly eyelashes guarding his eyes which have the color, calmness and rage of the seas. And unlike the depictions about him, he holds a spear with a blue ribbon just below the barbed tip. His built was lean with no evidence of strong muscles. He was a true warrior but the air of a dragon and evil slayer is not around his being.

            The shark is nowhere to be seen now, perhaps went submerged deeper into the water. He looked at the cloudless sky while flapping his wings that were larger versions of the doves’, to keep him afloat. He has been waiting here before the sun came up from the easterly horizon. Those whom he is waiting are not late. He is just early as he always arrived at meeting places an hour or so ahead of time since he was assigned on Earth to prepare for something.

            They are here, he thought as two tiny specks appeared up in the sky which are fast approaching, becoming from something nil into what seem to be a pair of birds. But birds they are not, they are human figures and most religious factions would prefer to call them, angels.

            Angels, a degree lower than archangels means the messenger from God. There have been many beliefs and accounts about them but like Michael, only few will fit. There were accounts of them since the era of mythologies and can also be heard in the ranks of Zoroastrianism, Abrahamic Religions, Jewish, Christians and even in Islam. In some instances, they may have acted as messengers, but not this time. This time, they are warriors sent for a war against the force of darkness.

            The two angels, speculated to be females, ceased their almost supersonic flight at his very front and are now flapping their wings to keep them from plunging deep into the waters. Their flaps are producing soft fanning sounds like that of a big weaved fan winnowing air. Unlike Michael, they are fashioned like ancient winged knights in silver armors and chainmail.

            Their feet, legs, arms and body were all wrapped in shinny silver armors wrought from unknown metal. Where there is absence of the metal armors, there is chainmail. A pair of birds’ wings is engraved on the amethyst shaped like a heart in between their breast. Their hair, reaching below shoulder levels, looks wet and dances with the whip of breeze and one of them disperses something that looks like shinny glitters in the air. Helms are wrapping around their heads like metal headbands with glass shield covering their eyes and half of their faces. The glasses of the helms are somewhat tinted in silvery white like those of the cars’. Only the b****y red lips and the rosy pink cheeks are the exposed part of their body that even their hands were clad in gauntlets which look like exoskeletons.

            “You are early,” one of them uttered void of any emotion but in a voice that was still so soft and sweet it may be envied by singers.

            “Am I not always, Spring?” The archangel looked up and around, expecting to see things that were not there at all.

            “We are not followed,” the other told him while looking up and around too like she does not believe her own words.

             “Certainly, Bloss,” Michael confirmed looking at the two of them again. “They won’t waste time scouting around. They are busy preparing. This is their war after all.”

            “Why are we meeting like this?” Spring, the one dispersing glitters in the air asked the high angel. “We should not be hiding from them.”

            “We are not hiding,” Michael looked at her right on the eye shield, reaching the irises concealed within, his voice having a trace of calmness and easiness.

            “Why did you call for us after all?” It is Bloss’ turn to ask their superior.

            “I just want to cast my last move in the chess game before the thirteen blues come.” He looked at her with those kind eyes. “The enemy is prepared, in fact waited for this moment twenty one years in mortals’ standard time.” He looked at Spring, an action that suggested the next words will be pertained to her. “I want you to move closer to Geiki. No more guarding him from a distance in the person of a perfect stranger.”

            “Understood,” a short respond from Spring.

            “And, Bloss, I want you to be ever closer to our boy. Make way to be with him until this is all through. Never let him out of your sight and always be on your guard without breaking your cover. The only one allowed to show her true form here is Spring.”

            Bloss just nodded, a part of her wanting to protest and reject a some of the plan, if not the entirety, of the order. Why is it that she is not allowed to break her cover is a real mystery to her.

            “I know your thoughts, Bloss,” Michael sympathized with her. “You want to protect our kid. But since the beginning, your only mission is to guard him under the cloak of cover. It is Spring’s duty if it ever comes to assault and counter-attacks. You two are a pair on this ever since the start. We cannot lose the element of surprise, I do hope you understand.”

            “Yes.”

            “It is getting late,” Michael looked at the sun that is now a high white ball up the eastern skies. “Let’s all get back to our positions.”

“Indeed,” Bloss’ last words before she flapped her wings so hard that she was instantly a speck in the western skies.

            Spring hesitated, not wanting to follow her fellow angel anytime soon. The glass eye shield before her eyes suddenly disappeared upon will as if a popped bubble. She looked at Michael straight to his eyes, locking it with hers, which are a pair of blacks. She is wanting for more from their superior.

            “Nothing more, Spring,” Michael calmly stated void of any emotions. “We should be getting right on our way.”

            A nod from Spring and both of them are instantly airborne like a pair of scared birds driven aw