A Dying God (Book 2)

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Ariel- a warning

Noise disrupts my slumber. I discover it is much harder to wake. I observe my arm where wires rest comfortable, taped and secured, well managed and cared for. A needle disappears into my skin, a clear see-through tubing rolling down, revealing the subtle detail of my drug-induced nap. I am impressed such common medical practices have upgraded to its vigorous standings. I wonder how far the human race has come to procure these advancements. I also am curious about Angel improvements. They placed me, a being immune to disease and ailment, into an involuntary sleep by the use of human produce. Is my Soul really so feeble to be prone to flimsy attacks as that?

I sit up and observe the woman that rolls in a metal cart. She wears an odd outfit. My memories of life stem from six hundred years ago. We wore animal skins and leather despite knowing other ways of dress existed. She is covered in a material much like my own. Cotton is its genetic makeup, woven with thread and buttons. I don’t know what to make out of it and thus I ask, “What do you wear?”

The woman eyes me and then looks down upon herself. “Jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Jeans?” I question, the word falling off my lips awkwardly.

She stands before me, pointing to her legs. “Jeans.” Her gaze wonders to the mirror and I look as well. I do not make a comment on my observers despite desiring to do so.

I feel slightly better. I am not as misplaced as I was. Hundreds of years are absent from my memory but I am Ariel, God’s Lion, a Transcending Erelim Elder, and with that verification I can function.

I observe my attendant, “What is your name?”

The woman pushes the cart, paying little attention to me. “Justine. I’m a Asuras Fallen. I brought food.” She adjusts it directly in front of me. Justine unveils the silver lid that covers the plate. A wave of warmth rises from the awkward provisions.

I hear her voice vaguely, “What is your last memory? It would help us help you.”

My face leans in to the peculiar pieces of steaming meat. “I am the Ruler of the Icelandic Range. Five thousand Angels are within my territory. Seventy-Five Elders bow to my whim.” I reach up only for my chain to halt my procession. I wonder what type of deer this is. Perhaps it is fish. It is an odd coloring. The Ruling is in a different part of the world. It is probable they have an assortment of diverse animals here. I haven’t visit this section of Earth for a reason. Partly to keep my Soul intact.

“What year is it?”

“1403.” I look up to her, “Will you unchain me or must I stare at it all day?” I sense her hesitation. Her countenance makes it easy to understand her. I rattle my head, an attempt to rid my face of stray strands of golden curls. A smirk pulls at my lips, “Do not fret, little pup. I am aware of my long catatonic slumber.” She tightens her features, insulted it seems. “Tell me, how many years did I lie unresponsive?”

Justine turns her back and it is my turn to be affronted. I narrow my eyes studying her movement. She stops at the entrance where a faceless arm hands her a set of twinkling keys at which she then returns to my beside. “That is not information they want to reveal quite yet, your grace. Your mental state--”

“Yes.” I cut her off, holding up my chained wrist. “I am aware. Your superiors are wise.” She grasps the chain, refusing to touch my skin to my dismay. I lack physical contact and I was hoping she would grant me a slight touch. “They gain my respect despite rejecting me.”

The moment my wrist is free I wave it with mirth, reaching up to rest my fingertips against my lips, closing my eyes, basking at the tingling of shocking frigid skin. “It’s…cold.” My body shivers. I blow hot air out curling my hand, pressing it against my cheek.

The other chain sounds and breaks my attention as Justine unlocks the other. I look at her, “Your respect however is yet in my grasp.” The bracket falls as deadweight to the ground, smacking the stone. She leaves it, as if it waits to be used on another day.

Stepping to the foot of the bed, she flips up the blanket to unlock my ankles. “I don’t know what you mean, your grace.”

My fingers lace together on my lap. “Words are pretty, Justine but they do not lift a sword and they do not slay an enemy.” The moment one foot is free, I pull it into my chest, my hands wrapping around my toes, embracing it as if it is a friend I’ve not seen in ages. “You know who I am, yet you’ve shown no deference since the moment you entered.”

The last chain falls away and I am a ball curled in the bed with my arms wrapped tight around my knees. I touch each limb, loving my own skin as I have never done. I stare at her as she rests the keys on the cart. Justine adjusts the cart back in front of me. “Would you feel better if I bowed to you, your grace?

Narrowing eyes, I frown, “Do not bother. Appeasement works only for the doleful and I am not such a creature. I can only hope your superiors comprehend our transaction and they will heed this caveat, thus relieving you of duty.”

Her eyes widen, suddenly surprised. It is a childish response in my opinion.

Since she so obviously does not understand, I explain crudely, “Impertinence is a disease, infectious and poisonous, proliferating and multiplying. If it breeds in you then no doubt it breathes in the seven Angels behind that glass wall and the three Fallen standing outside the door. It reveals that I am not safe which I am positive they do not want me to feel for the repercussions of such a realization will not be in their favor.”

I unfurl. Setting my toes upon the cement floor, it jolts my sensitive skin and I squeal. It almost makes me laugh. I’m feeling cold. Do they understand the implications of that as much as I do? And though it should make me sad that I can sense this meager awareness, I find I am thrilled by it.

Sitting directly in front of the metal cart, I rest my hands upon its surface, looking down to my estranged meal. I wonder how I can eat this. I should have asked before I ruined our moment together. I look up at her and she still resides.

I quickly swiftly break the estranged silence, “’Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again.’” Words fall from my lips, strange words I’ve known from sometime before yet cannot place them. The door shuts and I am mournful I am alone. Yet, I would rather face solitude than tolerate insubordination.

The younger generation needs continual reminders on who it is that rules them. Without a hand to hold, they will defy. I am a lax Chieftain but never mistake me for a reckless one.

Under the napkin, I find my fork. It brings a smile upon my lips. It was a rare occasion I used such a device. My days were spent in the unlearnt world of Wabanaki, living in undisclosed locations amongst the human breed known as the Abenaki Indian tribe. We lived beside them and in moments of war we lived with them but for the better part, we kept our distance, separating: human to human, Angel to Angel. Interceding on human lives is against the moral codes of our Lord Father. To do any more would be a sin. We hovered over their precious lives with diligent care and we helped where we could but we did not stop life and never did we halt death.

A thriving band south desired to live differently. A young Angel named Yuma who was a Asuras while I was a Hikmah sought to live amongst mankind. He had it in his head that he could assist without intervening and still keep his heart at a distance. He reminded me of my Soul Mate, a man I very much loved and hated. I sought at first to disband Yuma’s misguided circle of dumb-witted fools. It would have taken very little to destroy him but he continued despite my warnings. His family grew. I even found a few of my own kind abandoning the Icelandic Range to join his own.

I placed a faith in Yuma. I allowed him on my lands. I protected him from the ravenous Fallen. Kio encircled us from every direction. Tymician---

Agony grips my head. My fork drops on my plate and I cannot swallow the food in my mouth. There is so much radiating pressure I cannot feel the rest of my body. Thoughts muffle and I cannot concentrate. Pain. Brutal and never ending, wave after wave.

“Erelim Elder Ariel.”

My eyes flip open, lifting my head up. Tears blur my vision and I look around, lost. I’m misplaced, frightened. There isn’t anyone in this room yet I’ve heard a roaring voice capable of cutting through the dispelling throbbing.

“You are--” It’s a near metallic sound, coming from the ceiling, “Experiencing a minor migraine due to triggers in your memory. We ask you to think less upon your past. These episodes can cause your unstable potential to breach the blockades we have procured.”

Sniffing, I push the cart away and adjust myself upon the bed, flicking out my hair and laying down upon the bed. They do not want me to remember for obvious reasons. I know of many things that they are guilty for. I am not as blind to believe I am secure. The sooner I am better, I can fathom my escape. They will not let me leave willingly. The fact that I still lie here after so many years tells me my clan thinks I am dead. Everyone thinks I am dead. Perhaps even God himself. Tears fall over my temples. I might as well be in Hell.

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