Epilogue

Epilogue

Lana (many millennia ago)

              “Apolliana. Awaken my child.”

              I look up at the barren walls of my prison and see The Creator materialize before me. My thoughts fly around my head like whispers that I cannot manage to hear, and my body aches painfully. I curl up in the corner of my bed, my torn wings fluttering behind me and my small bloody frame trembling. My eyes hurt from the light now beaming around us. It’s been so long since I have seen anything but darkness. There have only been a few situations where I’ve died and experienced respite. But I soon reemerge into my angelic shell and cycle back into my madness. I don’t even know how long I’ve been locked inside this non-existence. Many would say that angels cannot be vicious, but I’m drowning in my pain and death. My long golden hair covered in blood and gore falls around me like a bloody pelt, and my torn robe hangs off my mangled form. I try not to blink too much, but the light is unbearable.

              Memories of tearing through angels besiege me as my rage threatens to consume me again. I look at my soiled hands and see dried blood rings beneath my torn nails before I look back up at the two beings standing before me.

              “Is it time…is it time for me to die? Is death coming?” I ask dazedly as I rock in place and quote words that I’ve heard The Creator say.

“So will it be with the resurrection of the dead? The body that is sown is perishable; it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power, and it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.”

              The Creator’s large form wavers back and forth before mine. Unlike angels, The Creator has no true shape or gender. The Creator is light and darkness. The Creator just is. Some call him father and some mother. But there’s no acknowledgment of which is correct. The other archangel stands stall, his muscled body and sword arm stiff as he readies to attack. I try to see him, but my vision burns to the point that it’s difficult to see anything clearly. I only know what he is because the monster inside me cries for me to tear him apart. His grace extends from his body, scratching my skin like gravel and making my hunger for death and blood unbearable.

              “You have been living in non-existence for centuries, my child. I had hoped that your madness had waned, but you have continued to tear through your own body until you’re mere ribbons. ”

              Using my matted hair as a curtain, I seethe and curl my fingers inside of my palms, fighting the urge to lunge at the creature who has placed me in this prison. It has been so long since I’ve felt anything but madness and fear. I am the first of my kind. A female archangel, created to mate with The Creator’s favored son. But my fate was irrevocably changed by the one I’m meant to be with.

              I laugh a manic laugh as the irony of my situation flits through my mind.

              The archangel stiffens further and takes a step forward. “Her madness has declined.”

              My laugh grows into a cackle as I slide closer to the angel and grit out. “Come to me, angel. Let me taste your grace.”

              His gasp of horror echoes inside of the tiny cell.

              “My child, it is time for you to find your peace. You cannot continue to exist in this manner.”

              My eyes fill with tears as the madness swirls in my mind. “I did not ask for this! You made me this way!” I scream out. “I can’t die. You will not let me die! This pain will not cease!” I scratch at my chest as my soul burns inside of me painfully. “Please, send me to the fade?”

              “So will it be with the resurrection of the dead? The sown body is perishable; it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power, and it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.”

I repeat over and over as I try to find solace and center my muddled mind.

              The Creator denies my claim. “I know you are in pain, but I cannot undo what has been destined. Lucifer made his choice, which I know doomed you as well. However, I do have a way for your situation to change.”

              The angel interjects heatedly. “As much as I wish to, we cannot release her, your grace. She has already cut through our ranks. She slaughtered Galatael, Tramiel and many others. If you let her go, she will continue to murder our brethren.”

              The Creator’s like slashes the air, making my eyes burn further. “Enough! I know what she has done, my son. No one knows this better than I.”

              I chuckle with derision as I slump to my knees on the ground and crawl toward The Creator. “You made me this!” my lip curls as I gaze up into The Creator’s lights and let it burn through my retinas. “You are the reason for my madness!” I gasp as the pain burning through my eyes becomes unbearable. It feels like glass is tearing through the thin membrane of my eyes. I can feel blood pouring from the sockets as they continue to burn.

              The Creator doesn’t argue further. “I know, my child. If it’s any consolation, I did not expect that Lucifer’s fall would do this to you. But I have a way for your soul to be free of his and his sins to no longer plague you.”      

              I blink helplessly, but my sight is gone. “But I am tied to Lucifer. I have to do penance for his sin. A balance has to be reached.”

              “You are correct; a balance does need to be reached. I know that your road has not been easy and that it has not been by your choice... but there is a possibility. If the Eru’s prophecy comes to fruition and the sacrifice is made, an order can be restored, and you may be free of your cursed ties.”

              The angel retorts. “But that’s not possible, your grace. We have tried and failed before. Destiny has spoken. Lucifer forfeited his happiness when he fell. You tied her destiny to his without consequence. Lucifer’s sins are her sins, and her madness cannot be remedied.”

              The Creator’s form leans close to my broken one. “But there is a way for her to be unbound. She can become human.”

              The angel flinches back with shock, his steps faltering. “But how? It’s not possible. Angels cannot become humans.”             

              I flinch at every word as my anger, and jumbled thoughts threaten to choke me. I look at the angel as he continues to argue with The Creator, but I can no longer hear a word. All I can hear is a loud ringing in my ears, followed by thunderous waves. Seething with rage, I spring on the angel and claw at him. However, I am no match for the angel in my damaged state as he lifts me by the neck. His eyes gleam with guilt and sadness as he aims his flaming sword at my chest.

              As the thunderous sound in my ears overwhelms me, I close my eyes and let the angel give reprieve to all of my anguish.