Archon(124)

Angela, though, was far from eager to sell her soul.

If anything, she longed for Israfel to offer his own.

“His senses,” Mikel’s tone deepened with pity, “are dulled by his obsession. If he ever reincarnates according to Israfel’s desires, his mind will return. But he will be far from the brother you knew and loved as a child. Now his single heaven and endless hell is to be separated from Israfel, and yet to still be in his service. For him to anger that Supernal to such a degree—he must have overstepped his bounds in a grievous and personal way. What you are seeing is the result of his human foolishness. Despite appearances, your brother was a deeply troubled individual . . .”

Angela should have cried again or shed at least a single tear.

But all she could do was stare. She had nothing else left.

He threw himself to this place without a second thought.

Brendan gazed through her for a second longer. Even though he wasn’t aware of her on a conscious level, he must have still sensed her enter the Netherworld and had been drawn to her presence or aura or whatever had alerted her parents. There were a trillion souls in this place, maybe more, yet he’d managed to find her. Coincidence wasn’t enough to explain that kind of miracle. As if agreeing to the end of their relationship, Brendan trudged past her back into the grayness, soon fading like a washed-out dream. If Angela ever saw him again, this was the last time he’d appear with familiar features and probably any semblance of humanity.

She watched him leave and turned back to the sun’s lifeless light. Slowly, the landscape emerged through the gray haze, and amazingly a bare cliff’s edge took shape beneath her boots. The land below appeared with its barrenness and cracked earth, and out in the immense plain, souls stared up at her, silent and waiting, their hair ruffling in the breeze.

Millions and millions of human souls, gray like their afterlife.

If I’m the Archon, I should know what to do next. But I don’t know a thing.

Where was that inner voice when she needed it most?

Angela let her eyes rest on as many individuals as she could, but the more she tried to think of something to say, the more her mouth went dry. This was the same place she had stood in Tileaf’s mind, only this was the real thing. Whether she was Raziel or someone else, she now stood in the portentous spot, with a sizable chunk of humanity waiting for her to say something. There were so many souls, they stretched to the very horizon.

She glanced back at the path Mikel had taken, and it remained black and inky—a valley of shadows that no light could pierce. Without asking, she sensed that only those who chose torment for their eternity remained in that oppressive pool of gloom. The things she had thought to be branches were more like congealed darkness, extensions forming a natural barrier between this part of the Netherworld and its other half, both vaster than the human mind could comprehend.

There was no sign of the hatch she’d dropped through.

“In the valley of shadows,” Mikel said, “are the souls who do not wish for release from their imprisonment. Unlike these, they will not find freedom in the Nexus, but will stay trapped in this dimension, most likely until it crumbles to nothingness.”

“The Nexus . . .” Angela repeated. “And that’s where all these other souls will go?”

“In time. Some will first choose to fight for the Archon in the eventual battle. But all will leave through Luz, walking up the Ladder to their new resting place, safe from Lucifel’s eternity of silence—unless she succeeds in destroying the Archon herself.” Mikel touched her on the shoulder, but pulled away quickly, her small hands strangely wounded by their contact. Maybe she was responding to the change in Angela’s body. Her heart raced, and the Eye throbbed inside of her palm, begging to stare out at the dead and the blue sun. “Now, it’s time to tell them that you’ve come. To free them and to lead them where even the Supernals could not. Raziel—my father,” Mikel’s face saddened, “would have been happy to see this day.”

“He is,” Angela said, certain.

He has to be.

She looked out at the souls gathered across the expanse of the plain, her stance hardening. This place and these doomed souls were now hers, practically cradled in the cup of her hand.

“I’ve arrived,” she shouted at the top of her lungs, “to free you. It’s time for you to leave this place and go somewhere else. Those who choose to stay . . . have decided their fate.” On impulse, she lifted her hand, displaying the Grail for their satisfaction. Some souls sighed, others shrieked in fear, running in the opposite direction. They somehow recognized Lucifel’s former treasure. “This is your choice. Either join me, recognize me, or stay in the darkness for all eternity.”