Book 3: Sunflower Soul

Chapter 1

Heaven’s Youngest Wing

The familiar echo of my Uncle Gabriel’s hearty laugh floated through his studio doors. I could see the edge of his pastel-pink-tipped, white wings through the gap in the arch doors.

Slowly, I opened them, not wanting to disturb him.

He stood, paintbrush in his mouth, staring at his latest work, his foot tapping on the floor as his mind worked to solve the next part of his painting. His glimmering golden eyes looked upon his work, then, upon hearing me enter, he put his brush down.

‘Ah, my favourite niece,’ he chirped.

‘You are not supposed to have favourites; the others will get jealous.’ I laughed.

I stood next to him, admiring his latest painting: a stunning painting of the Silver City in its glory. The tall marble towers held the grace of those who first built them: my Uncle’s, my Aunt’s, and my mother. They were the Archangels of Heaven, those who first saw the splendour and crafted a home in which all Angels would one day dwell, as I did now.

I would not change a thing about it. Like my Mother Hanael, I found beauty in all that I saw, from the tallest tower to the smallest blade of grass, in things other Angels did not see. I gazed upon his painting; it was stunning, the towers so accurately depicted, but as I looked closer, below the clouds, along the ground, something was missing.

‘The painting needs life; it needs us.’ I let out a gentle laugh.

Gabriel moved to my side, his tanned hand resting on my tiny shoulder. After a moment of inspection, he let out a chuckle.

‘You are right.’

Gabriel took up the brush, his dark auburn eyebrows creased in concentration as his hands worked. I stood, watching patiently, eagerly excited to see what his mind put on the parchment.

A wide grin fell upon his chiselled face, and he stood back in pride. At the centre of the Grand Piazza, below the marble spires, a tiny figure stood, so small against the giant buildings, an Angel with a smile on her face. My mouth dropped open, and tears welled in my eyes as I realised the figure was me. My wings settled behind me, the cobalt plates clicking softly into place, layered like the scales of some creature I had never seen.

My Uncle Gabriel never ceased to surprise me. I flung my arms around him, trying to stop myself from being too excited.

‘Oh, thank you, Uncle Gabe. I love it.’

‘This painting will sit in the home of the scholarly Elf Voylette; it is a gift from your father. Barachiel should be along soon to collect it.’

‘Even I have heard of her; my father has spoken of her dedication to recording the history of the species. It is amazing.’

‘Ha. That does not surprise me; your father has always been fascinated with Elven culture. It would not be shocking if he discovered he had a touch of Elf in his genes somewhere far back.’

‘Really! That would be amazing.’ I squeaked with delight.

‘Haha. You really are your father’s daughter.’

‘I like to think I take after you a lot.’

His proud grin widened. Uncle Gabriel never had children of his own; he was not cut out for it, he would say, but he loved to be the doting Uncle. He was rarely alone and usually had one of his nieces and nephews with him; more often, it was me.

‘I am proud.’ He took a gentle bow, but as he stood up, his golden eyes gave a gentle glow.

‘What is it?’

‘There is a meeting between the Gods. They have summoned me to witness. I will be back.’ He planted a kiss on my forehead as his feathered wings unfurled.

‘Hurry back.’

***

I took a brush to a fresh canvas; my skill was not comparable to my Uncle’s, but I found tranquillity in painting the world I saw. It was not my speciality; I did not think I had one. I could paint, sculpt, and carve with adequate skill, but I had not found what I was truly gifted in.

I smiled at my creation. My favourite spot in Eden, beneath the tree of life, where the heat of Heaven could not reach, a gentle shadow cast from the tree, where the reddest apples grew.

As I placed the brush in the jug of water, I felt the air swirl. In a flurry, Gabriel flew in, his brows arched in worry. His golden eyes grazed over me, not really seeing me. He did not speak as he landed; Gabriel went straight to the largest, unused canvas, picked up a brush and began to create a form I had never seen.

I watched in awe as he painted with a fervour I had never seen before, his hands moving in an almost hurried grace.

A figure, taller than I had ever seen before, with crimson skin that seemed to shimmer on the page. Steel eyes stared at me, as if they were alive on the parchment, and long onyx hair reached down the creature’s back.

‘Who is that?’ I could not take my eyes off her.

‘That is a Primordial Demon.’

I had been taught about them; they were evil, corrupted beings who resided in Hell.

But as I looked at her, the Demon did not look scary or evil; instead, she seemed to hold a hauntingly beautiful grace, the way her lips curved into a respectful smile as she knelt on the page.

‘She is striking.’ I breathed.

‘Her name is Abaddon. She came before the Gods to request sanctuary from Hell for her line. She seeks peace and safety. It is baffling, a Demon who strives for tranquillity.’

‘Wow. Were the Gods surprised?’

An amused laugh escaped his lips. ‘They were. A first for me to see, I will admit. But they are going to weigh her request; I am not certain of their choice. They asked us to think about it, to help them decide. I am unsure of what to say.’

‘The idea of a Demon striving to leave Hell, for a quiet life, is both laughable and beautiful.’

Gabriel’s head dipped in agreement. ‘I share your inquisitive nature, but given the history of Demonkind, I am cautious. It could be a ploy to trap the Gods.’

I stared at the painting, at her muscular, feminine frame, those eyes that seemed to jump out of the page, hair that coiled itself around her body, as if protecting her somehow. I wished my mother were here. She would have seen the same thing I saw in Abaddon’s face; she always saw what others missed.

‘I do not feel that it is a trap.’

Gabriel’s gaze fell upon me, a curious expression on his face. ‘Why do you say that?’

I did not take my eyes off Abaddon. ‘I do not know, but my heart tells me that giving her sanctuary is the right thing to do.’

He stood beside me, looking at her form as I did. He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘I think you are right.’

‘Will you tell the Gods this?’

‘Yes.’

A gentle knock at the door pulled us away from the painting.

‘Come in,’ Gabriel called.

Barachiel took a step inside, his sky-blue eyes looking fondly around the studio.

‘Good afternoon, Gabriel, Glidred.’ He gave a bow. ‘I have come for the painting Ryksten has requested.’

‘Ah, yes. It is finished; let me wrap it for you.’ Gabriel took the painting of the Silver City from its easel and disappeared into the back room.

A vibrant smile crossed Barachiel’s face. ‘It is a pleasure to see you, Glidred. Your father sends his greetings.’

‘Thank you. Is he enjoying his time in Alfheim?’

His body shook with glee as he laughed. ‘If he had the time, he would stay longer, but alas, your mother needs him home.’

‘Perhaps next time my father visits another world, I can accompany him.’

‘I think he would like that.’

From the backroom came Gabriel, the painting carefully wrapped and tied neatly with a golden ribbon.

‘I do hope the Elven scholar enjoys this.’ His golden eyes lit up. Gabriel loved the idea of his work reaching other worlds and species.

‘I have no doubt she will. I bid you both farewell.’ Barachiel bent low, and we did the same.

Though it was customary for Angels to bow to Archangels, many of us felt it just to do the same. We were not their betters, just different.

Turning to face my Uncle, I gave voice to the question that had been building in my mind. I was nervous to ask, but my heart pulled me to form the words.

‘Can I come with you when you tell the Gods your thoughts about Abaddon?’

Gabriel reached up to rub his chin, his brow furrowing as he pondered my request. His eyes searched the painting, as if Abaddon’s captured form would give him the answer. The muscles in my body tightened, my wings gave a soft flutter as I waited with all the patience I could muster.

I bit my lip. Please, oh, please let me come, I thought.

He let out a chuckle, the light in his eyes becoming brighter. ‘Oh, alright, you can come.’

My feet left the floor, my wings vibrated in glee as they took me up, and I soared around the studio, careful not to knock anything over.

‘Thank you,’ my voice was almost a song. ‘When do we leave?’

‘Soon. Meet me at the Gods’ meeting chamber when the sun rises tomorrow. For now, go home and rest. I have work to do.’ He gestured towards the doors. With a flick of his wings, the wind pushed them open.

Out I flew, waving to him as I disappeared from his view.

I could not believe it. I was going to physically see the Primordial Demon, the first of her kind who chose peace over pain.

***

Rows upon rows stretched out before me, each filled with beings in service to the Gods: Valkyries, Elven leaders, Dwarven elders, Muses, Satyrs, Centaurs and more. Some I had only read of in ancient texts. I fought the urge to jump in excitement, but keeping still amongst the diverse crowd proved more difficult than I thought.

We sat in the front row, our bodies directly facing the Gods. To sit in divine presence, my mind grew fuzzy, my thoughts scattered. In my chest, my heart pounded at the sheer celestial splendour.

My eyes settled on an ethereal figure; her skin was glacier, with hair that flowed in silver-blonde waves that almost touched the floor. Even from here, I could see the spark in her ice-blue eyes; they glowed with a curious fondness. She offered one of her golden apples to Heimdall, who sat beside her. His eyes were as gilded as Idunn’s apples. Where Idunn was warm and serene, Heimdall emanated a warrior’s aura. Tall and imposing, with a face that rarely smiled, he stood as the last of the audience sat.

‘I thank you all for bearing witness. I would call Hestia to render her verdict.’ He gestured to the modest, veiled woman who was seated beside Demeter.

Rising from her seat, Hestia’s dark hair fell from its loosely tied ribbon, coiled around her tiny elbows.

‘I decree that Abaddon and her kin be granted sanctuary,’ she spoke with such elegant simplicity.

Heimdall spoke another name. Saraswati.

She was unlike any God I had seen. Four long, golden arms came from her curvaceous body; in a simple, pure white saree, she curtsied to all. Ink hair swept past her shoulders, and her lower left arm brushed it back. Known for being wise, I hoped she would agree with Hestia. I crossed my fingers, silently praying.

‘If we do not give them safety, we condemn them to remain in the clutches of the rebels. They deserve a home for themselves, but let them live in seclusion, protected from others. All save for us cannot enter or leave.’

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd. I looked to Gabriel, who nodded, but held a deep sadness behind his dimly lit eyes. I did not want them to agree to that. How could I ever get the chance to meet the mysterious Demon who defied her nature, if their home was closed off?

I watched the Gods speak in turn, rendering their verdicts. My heart rose and sank so many times I thought it would break. When each God had taken their turn, Heimdall called forth a few dozen beings from the audience. Gabriel squeezed my hand as he stood and took his place beside the others.

I recognised a few in the line. My uncle Mikael gave me a wink as he noticed me. I smiled, waving at him. Next to him, Sváfnir’s soothing aura flowed, her pale grey eyes drawing me into a gentle rest. My eyes grew heavy.

I shook my head, forcing myself to keep alert. All Valkyries naturally emanated an energy that, when not controlled, put most beings to sleep. She stood tall, her wings, the colour of twilight, fluttered with the heavy weight of exhaustion.

The last figure among them I recognised was Tamamo-no-Mae, who was said to be the most beautiful Kitsune in existence. With long, sleek, silver-white fur and eyes as dark as the ocean’s abyss, she was indeed a sight to behold. But my eyes were drawn to her nine smooth tails, almost as long as her body, curved at the tips as though ready to protect her at a moment’s notice. I had seen a five-tailed Kitsune, but never a nine-tailed one. It was said they could see into the hearts of other beings, and even the threads of fate themselves.

Mikael stepped forward first, a beam of pure white light surrounding him.

‘I agree with those who refuse her aid. We caged the rebels for a reason. Are we to now trust Abaddon has turned against her own? No, we cannot take that risk.’

I did my best not to let my disappointment show. I should not have been surprised; as Heaven’s defence, it was Mikael’s responsibility to ensure our safety.

As Gabriel stepped forward, I gave him a reassuring smile.

‘I speak not only my words, but the words of Heaven’s youngest.’

All eyes turned their gazes to me; my very soul laid bare for all to see. Gabriel returned my smile, his eyes beaming brighter than I had ever seen them.

‘Despite only being half a millennium old, she sees beauty in that which we do not. For my years of life, I have never met another like her. Upon first sight of Abaddon on my canvas, Glidred felt not fear, but a desire to know her. We say, give them the chance to show what good they can do, what beauty they can create. I agree that they should live a secluded life, at least for a time. Perhaps one day, we can allow them to visit our worlds, and we theirs. I would offer myself to see what they would create.’

I blinked back tears. To have my thoughts shared with those far above me, to be able to help decide Abaddon’s fate, was a gift I was not sure I deserved. My Uncle honoured me with such a present.

More agreed than I thought. My Uncle Gabriel had a way with words; his lilting voice reached the hearts of those who listened. One by one, those in line made their decision known. I clasped my hands, hoping the choice would fall in Abaddon’s favour.

I jumped from my seat, cheering when the last vote was cast in approval, my voice feeling louder than the others. Wings spread out in triumph, so fast and wide they almost hit Midir, who sat on the other side of where my Uncle Gabriel had been. A playfully amused laugh escaped his thin, pale lips as he moved aside, almost knocking over Bastet.

As Heimdall blew his horn, the hall fell silent.

I lowered myself back into my seat, and my Uncle Gabriel and the others in line returned to their original places.

The doors behind us opened; their creaking echoed, floating through the air as Abaddon walked lightly through the path which led to the centre of the hall. My breath held as I watched her. She was much taller than Gabriel’s painting portrayed. Despite her powerful frame, Abaddon moved with the serenity of one whose being was forged for love and harmony. I could not imagine her steel eyes ever holding anger or hatred. Her hair held a will of its own, curling around her shoulders like a shield.

She took her place, bowing to the Gods in front of her.

‘Abaddon, do you have anything you wish to say before we render our final verdict?’ Heimdall’s voice was sympathetic.

Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath; her speech, when it came, felt like a song to my ears.

‘I thank you for taking the time to consider my request. Regardless of what you decide, my kin and I are grateful. Despite the nature of my kind, you gave us more attention and thought than my creators.’

A humble Demon.

It was ludicrous and yet so fitting.

‘Before you give your verdict, I offer this to you, as your hopeful disciple.’ She took a large orb out of her cloak, and a dark grey mist swirled from inside it. I did not know how I knew, but in that moment, I felt the essence of her memories within it.

She held it up so all could see; gasps of awe swept through the crowd. Never before had a being’s memory been able to leave their mind.

‘I give to you not only the memories my kin and I have, but the ability to store your own.’

‘Why do you give this to me now when it could have persuaded others to grant you asylum?’ Heimdall looked upon her with curiosity.

‘I wish to be judged on what you see before you. To give a gift in hopes of being accepted is a ploy Loki would use. I refuse to be like my creators.’

With each word that left her lips, I was more certain my intuition was right. She deserved her chance.

Like many, Heimdall was taken aback by her humility.

‘We have concluded that you will be granted a place to call home. One where no others may enter, and you may not leave, for now. In time, we will gather again, and perhaps you shall journey to other worlds.’

I could not quite see from here, but I swore I saw tears in her eyes as she bowed deeply in reverence. ‘You grace us with your kindness. My kin and I will ensure we are worthy of such generosity.’

Heimdall dipped his head in respect. ‘We will call upon you shortly to craft your new home.’

Applause rang through the guests, each pair of hands seeming louder. Abaddon turned, a gentle smile upon her crimson face, tears trailing down her cheeks. She could not look at anyone. I could tell she was overcome with emotion; her hair covered her face from our sight, not wanting to let her vulnerability show.

One day. I will meet her.

‘It is time to go,’ came Gabriel’s teary voice.

‘Do you think she will be okay?’ I could not take my eyes off Abaddon.

He knelt beside me, his arms reaching around my shoulders, pulling me close.

‘I do. We made a difference to her kind today, and one day, I think she will help us more than we could know.’

I leaned into his warmth, certain he was right.