upon a small leather satchel. I picked myself up, took the satchel in my hands, and unbound it. The
worn material felt as if it might disintegrate at my touch. Passing the flashlight over the interior of the
sack, I saw a brilliant metallic glimmer. I peeled away a layer of tattered calfskin and held the lyre,
its gold shining as if freshly polished. I had found the very object we’d prayed we would discover.
I could think only of bringing the lyre to Dr. Seraphina. Quickly, I wrapped the treasure in the
satchel and began to make my way through the darkness, taking care not to fall again upon the wet
granite. The river was near, and I could see the boat lifting and falling upon the black water, when a
flickering of light from within the depths of a cave caught my attention. At first the source of the
illumination remained obscure. I believed that I had found the members of our expedition party, their
flashlights trailing over the rocky cavern walls. Walking nearer so that I might look closer, I sensed
that the light had an altogether different quality from the harsh bulbs we’d brought into the gorge.
Hoping to better understand what I saw, I ventured even closer to the mouth of the cave. A being of
wondrous appearance stood within it, its great wings open, as if preparing for flight. The angel was
so brilliant I could hardly bear to look at it directly. To soothe my eyes, I glanced beyond. In the
distance stood a choir of angles, their skin emitting a tempered, diaphanous light that illuminated the
gloom of their cells.
I could not take my eyes from the creatures. There were between fifty and one hundred angels, each
one as majestic and lovely as the last. Their skin appeared molded of liquid gold, their wings of
carved ivory, their eyes composed of chips of bright blue glass. Luminous nebulae of milky light
floated about them, ringing their masses of blond curls. Although I had read of their sublime
appearance and had tried to envision them, I’d never believed that the creatures would have such a
seductive effect upon me. Despite my terror, they drew me to them with an almost magnetic force. I
wanted to turn and flee, and yet I was unable to move.
The beings sang out in joyous harmony. The chorus thrumming through the cavern was so unlike the
demonic nature I had long associated with the imprisoned angels that my fear all but melted. Their
music was unearthly and beautiful. In their voices I understood the promise of paradise. As the music
drew me under its spell, I found myself unable to walk away. To my astonishment, I wanted to pluck
the strings of the lyre.
Holding the base of the lyre upon my knees, I ran my fingers over the taut metal strings. I had never
played such an instrument—my musical training had been limited to a chapter in Ethereal
Musicology—and yet the sound that emerged from the lyre was lush and melodious, as if the
instrument played itself.
At the sound of the lyre, the Watchers left off their singing. They looked about the cave, and the
horror I felt as the creatures fixed their attention on me was tempered with awe—the Watchers were
among God’s most perfect creatures, physically luminous, weightless as flower petals. Paralyzed, I
held the lyre close to my body, as if it might give me strength against the creatures.
As the angels pressed themselves against the metal bars of their prisons, blinding light dizzied me,
throwing me off balance. An intense heat came over me, hot and sticky, as if I had been drenched in
boiling oil. I cried out in pain, although my voice did not seem my own. Collapsing upon the ground, I
covered my face with the satchel as a second blast of searing heat seized me, more intensely painful
than the first. It felt to me that my thick wool clothing—meant to protect me from the cold—would
melt away, as Brother Francis’s robes had dissolved. In the distance the voices of the angels rose
once again in sweet harmony. It was under the spell of the angels that I fell unconscious, the lyre
wrapped in my arms.
Some minutes passed before I rose from the depths of oblivion to find Dr. Seraphina hovering
above me, an expression of concern upon her face. She whispered my name, and for a moment I
believed that I had died and emerged upon the other side of existence, falling asleep in our world and
waking in another, as if Charon had in fact taken me across the deathly river Styx. But then a seizure
of pain overwhelmed my senses, and I knew that I had been hurt. My body felt stiff and hot, and it was
then I recalled how I had been injured. Dr. Seraphina took the lyre from my hands and, too stunned to
speak, examined it. Helping me to sit, she tucked the instrument under her arm and, with a
surefootedness that I longed to emulate, led me back to the boat.
She pulled us across the waters, gripping the rope attached to the pulley. As the prow lifted and