Glory's Veil

There’s no need to go pounding your head against a wall, Scorpio, your day will be challenging, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The planetary configurations today will push you to lay the foundation for the projects you’ve been planning over the last six months. Go with the flow. People sometimes think that you are good at lighting fires but lousy at keeping them going. It’s time you proved them wrong!

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Chapter 1 - Escape

All men die. It is the fleetingness of life that makes it precious. It is what you do with that precious gift that earns you passage. Wither that passage is to Paradise or Perdition was entirely up to him, and him alone. Ayleon stood at the Misty Gates, staring off into the ephemeral swirling clouds, holding vigil in the same place he had stood for thousands of years, through the last several ages, almost all the way back to the beginning of human history. This was the singular purpose to his creation, and continued existance, to guide the souls who’s threads had been spun out of The Tapestry of all life and who’s souls now needed to be sent on from this world and into the next. His father created them, spun their stories, wove them together into a painfully beautiful tapestry, but in the end, they all came to him eventually.

In the mists some distance ahead of him there was a swirling as a semi solid form moved and disturbed the currents in the air. Another soul, come to him in their final hour. He stood still, patiently waiting still and calm, so as not to startle them as they approached. He did not create this realm, and even in all his years he still did not know all of it’s secrets, but somehow in all that swirling mist, they always found their way to him. Some resisted, and wandered, but the mists would always bring them back to him, in the end. The figure became clearer as they neared. A young woman, early on in her years. Dressed plainly, her hair plaited simply. She wore a linen dress. *It must be summer* he mused as she approached.

“Welcome, little one” he said as she neared, her steps slowing and eyes eyes widened when she finally spotted him in the clearing of the mists around his gates. “Do not be afraid” He held his hand out to her.

“Where am I?” She asked, she did not take his outstretched hand, but clasped her together at her chest and looked around and behind her. “How did I get here?”

They all asked that, it was meant to be disorienting, but few actually were aware of the moment of their deaths. “You are at the gates my dear, I am here to guide you on. Every soul must be judged, and guided to their afterlife”.

Her eyes widened “The gates? Am I dead?”

He nodded, and motioned with his still outstretched hand for her to move closer. She looked first from his face, to his hand, and behind her again. Slowly, she stepped forward and placed her hand gently in his. At the moment of their contact, a jolt ran though him and he flinched, grabbing her hand tightly. He could here her cry out in alarm but distantly, as the story of her life rolled through him. All of her memories, and some that were not hers, but the memories of her parents at her birth, those of the close friends and family members who’s lives had touched her closely, then spiraling outward to the lives of everyone she had touched. Every kindness, every discourtesy, every laid bare to him. She tried to pull back her hand, but it was over in an instant. He looked back down at her again, his face like stone, betraying no emotions.

“You have been Judged” he said to her levelly, watching her face for a response.

She could not feel pain in this realm, as her body was gone, at least not physical pain, and yes she still flinched at his words. Her ephemeral face seemed to blanch ever so slightly, her eyes widening in shock and fear. She tried again to pull away from him, but he was un-moving, their hands connected at a spiritual level, linking their souls. no one escaped from him once they took his hand, not until he delivered them.

Her life had not been perfect, her spirit was stained, but the number of times she had chosen virtue over sin lifted his heart. He was seeing less and less of those nowadays and he was glad to be walking to paradise this time. He decided to smile for her, to put her at ease. “Come, it is a long walk to Paradise” he said.

She let out a breath that he had not realized she had been holding. They did not need to breath here, but some habits remained into this realm. As the gates started to open, a shadow burst forth from the mist and made a mad dash to the gate. Ayleon had seen this thousands of times, some realized where they were and knew that the judging would not go in their favor. They tried to escape their fate, but none had ever succeeded. Still holding the woman’s hand with his left, he threw out his right arm and the man met Ayleon’s outstretched arm with his chest, immediately recoiling him backwards, flat on his back on the ground. The man lay there, blinking, not speaking, trying to collect himself as the reality of his failure sank in. The spirits hair was unkempt, his clothing loose on him, but clean. The layers wrapped around him in a way that provided free movement without impeding.

“You have not been judged” Ayleon said to the man firmly, but in the monotone of repeating words said a thousand thousand times over the eons. “You must wait” his voice reverberated around the clearing as though the mists took his words and threw them back. The man sat up, and glanced again at the open gates as Ayleon passed through them, still holding the woman’s hand. she looked at the man on the ground, then back up at Ayleon, then through the gates, and she stepped forward.

“I will not wait here to be judged by the likes of you!” The man on the ground shouted, climbing to his feat as the gates began to swing shut. “You don’t know me”

Ayleon just stood, waiting for the gates to finish swinging shut. His eyes never left the mans face as he looked around behind him and back into the mists.

“Wait, and be judged” Ayleon said to him as the gate stilled, closed once again.

The man stood and reached out to touch the gate, a tone sounded and he was thrown back again, landing unceremoniously in the center of the clearing. “Wait” Ayleon said again, and turned with the woman. “Come” He said to her. She only nodded, glancing over he shoulder at the man and the turning to face forward as Ayleon began to lead her though the mists to Paradise.

Ayleon could feel the man behind him glaring at his back, could feel the heat and rage within his soul rolling through the gates at him. There was no where for him to go but back into the mists. They did that sometimes, the ones who were afraid, and rightly so. But the mists always brought them back to be judged.

The path to paradise was long, winding through the mists beyond the gate. There was nothing to see, nothing to look at while they walked hand in hand in silence. Time moved differently here then in the world, and there was no way in the disorienting mists to know how long it had taken. He did not even have a beating heart to count as they walked. He focused on the pull he felt toward his goal, making infinitesimal adjustments to their direction as he felt the corrections we necessary. He did not need to see his way to reach their destination, it was his purpose to guide and so that was what he did.

“What’s it like?” The woman asked, looking around in the the empty grey mists that swirled around them. A source-less light made it so they could see, but there was nothing to look at, nothing but the two of them.

“I don’t know, I have never passed though the veil to the other side. There is no return for me anymore than there is for you, Laura” He said to her. She hesitated in her steps and he squeezed her hand and looked down at her. His smile this time was warm and the corners of his eyes creased with it. “Bus it know that it is everything you have dreamed it to be.”

“How do you know” She whispered.

“Because i can feel it, calling to me. Whispering into my soul that it is peaceful, and happy. A good place to rest for the remainder of time”. His voice took on a wistful tone as he felt the veil nearing through the mists.

Where before there was just grey mists and a source-less glow, now there was light beaming up ahead. Heat radiated pleasantly and they had not noticed before that it had been bordering on chilly in the mists. The warmth created a kind of haze in the mist that rose upwards. The Veil of Paradise.

Ayleon walked up to just within the edge of the rising mists, nothing could be seen but the glowing light. No sound penetrated the veil, but an overwhelming feeling of piece and tranquility washed over him. He stood there at the precipice as it called to him, but it was not for him that the call came. It was never for him, he was only the guide. HE looked down at Laura, the kind and generous woman next to him, who had died bringing a child into the world. She had not asked after it, in the disorientation she probably did not even realize it was not still a part of her. She looked into the Veil, mesmerized, and stepped forward. As she began to fade through the haze he gave her hand one final squeeze, his farewell to this happy spirit he had only know for a moment, but who’s memories he would carry, with all of the others, for all of time, and released her to Paradise.

He wanted to linger for a moment, to bask in the pleasant warmth of this place, but the pull the guided him through the mist had released him. This place was not for him, he was only the guide. He turned to head back to the gate when a tremor shook the ground. He fell to one knee to keep from being thrown to the ground *what in creation was that* he thought as he rose to his feet and took of at a run for the gate. he came to it quickly, he distance from the gate to the two veils was never the same, he always arrived when he needed to, and so he was there at the gate quickly. It opened for him at a wild swing, unlike it had before when he had entered with Laura, expediting his exit, and closed behind him just as quickly. The man who had tried to force his way through was gone, but the mists were pulsing still in a way that felt, wrong, somehow. It made the hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand up, like static in one of the storms he would watch his father weave together. Something was wrong. He sent his awareness out into the mists and could not feel any wandering souls nearby. In all of his years he had never lost one int he mists, they always brought the souls back to him eventually. They all faced their fate in the end.

Ayleon took off at a run again for his Father’s tower. Through the mists there was nothing anyone could see but he knew he was inclining slightly, and eventually he broke through the mists into rolling green hills and sunshine. There in the distance was a gleaming tower of grey stone, reflecting the light of the shining sun merrily. From a window at the top a rainbow could be seen, as light was collected and sifted into the window. He ran up to the door at the base of the tower and threw it open. Inside a winding staircase of white stone lifted upwards. He took the steps two at a time as he climbed to his fathers workshop.

As he got higher he could hear the sounds of the tools and machines the weaver used to made and bind the threads of every living thing in the world into the beautiful tapestry that was all of life itself. Ayleon had climbed these stair fewer and few times over the years, as his wisdom grew he needed to speak less and less with his father, and left him to his work. This was the reason why Ayleon had been created, to allow the Weaver to work in peace. As such he was not sure how he would be received. As he crested the top of the stairs and stepped onto the landing, the door into his father’s workshop opened on it’s own, allowing him quick entrance.

“Father, something’s happened” He said, stepping quickly into the room.

“Yes, it has” Was the deep reply of the old man that Ayleon knew to be his father and creator. It was only the two of him here, he had no mother, and needed none. The weaver had needed his assistance as the number of lives he had woven grew and began to pass on from life and wander aimlessly in his mists below.

“What is it?” He asked. His fathers aged hands never ceases, time moved on as they spoke, the stories continued.

“A soul has, returned” The Weaver replied, pausing slightly as if tasting the words. As if they were new to him and he wanted to make sure he was using them correctly.

“Returned from beyond the veil?” Ayleon asked.

“No, returned to the land of the living” The Weaver replied.