All there was to do was wait to hear. Oriael's heart could've pounded the minutes with the precision of a marching cadence. Yet, it kept a relaxed rhythm despite his knowledge. As a power, he long ago mastered emotions, and thankfully so. The call came hours before, just after losing a battle with his assign over whether they should interfere or not. Ranice Martel made the fatal call to see if her roommate had somehow found her way to their hotel. Holly Greer was in fact not with them, though he wished in vain that she was.

Oriael's pale stare reached across a glittering vista of the New York City skyline, thumb pressed to his lip as if to silence any word he might speak. On the inside, however, there was no silence, just poor attempts to justify his reasons. He had denied Caleb from interfering for the sake of everyone. The situation must play out. If they swept in to rescue Jett Colburn, then not only would Holly forever remain his, but the cycles repeat. That man's corrupting force would constantly be about her, cracking her bio-vessel's buffer until the atman beneath, Maiel, was infected with the burning down too. If she fell to his darkness, it would precipitate a war that ended all of which they fought for: to protect humans, including their Earth, and the many other souls scattered throughout Samsara.

Caleb was just not ready to hear that truth. Since finding Holly, the young man had become so restless and more than headstrong. Then, the moment the boy connected Holly to the red erela, the very same one he had been taken with since he was a boy, every one of their warnings erupted into a row. Plans fell apart. Caleb thought only of the girl. Oriael felt the gnawing inclination to let him have what he wished, but now was not the time. At least, the order had not yet been given. No. Now was the best time to share recent intelligence he'd received, to disseminate the importance of holding their line. The weight of it, though—he hoped Caleb had sense enough to take the advice to stand down. After all, Holly wasn't alone. She had the aid of her fierce guardian, one with greater determination than any svarg he knew. Plus, she had gained the friendship of an errant though wise soul, who made Holly's apartment his home. Jett had struck at Holly, but their Maiel, contained within, was safe from lasting harm.

Oriael closed his eyes. Rubbish. He grimaced, nauseated at these thoughts. He flexed his fingers, desiring to avenge the Captain.

Bursting through the door of his hotel room, Caleb stirred the guardian from his meditations. Oriael's wings rose as he faced the coming storm.

"Why didn't you tell me it was her?" Caleb demanded.

Naajah followed behind, shutting the door as not to make his current outburst the business of everyone on the floor. Oriael watched them near. He formed his response with great care, though it made him sicker than he could bear. He drew his hand away from his mouth, offering a supplicating expression.

"What would you have done if I had told you? Run to her? Broken them apart before he made his choice and turned you both into grigori?"

"He beat the fuck out of her tonight," Caleb raged.

"He did more than that," Naajah mumbled, stepping around him to take her perch on a stool at the window-flanked dining table.

Caleb's eyes followed her, trying very hard not to acknowledge the worst of what had happened. He couldn't face that he failed her that horribly. Neither could Oriael, whose eyes filled with tears he refused to shed.

Rage tightened Caleb's mouth. The moment replayed in his head, breaking his denial. Oriael shut his eyes a moment to also get a handle on the reaction surging within him. The girl was his friend; the erela he loved like a daughter. Dominic's violence should've led him from the safety of their rooms to exact revenge, but the delicate plan he and the council worked for decades halted him. Oriael saw Caleb seethe. The young man's rapid heart rate pounded his ears, while a murderous wrath washed over his skin. The guardians held those feelings at a distance, but the human form could not so easily compartmentalize emotions.

The only consolation to it all: Jett would be punished amply before his time was out. A sentence in the prison realm of Jahannam was in his future. It was now an irrevocable truth. In the very least, it comforted them that he only violated the bio-interface appliance, not the sacred body of their loved one. Oriael gripped his fists tight at his sides, as if another attack were about to happen that instant. If Dominic dared to harm the captain, his corpse would be pounded against every surface in the city until each of her friend's had achieved justice.

"Caleb—please, sit down. We must talk."

Caleb's icy stare stabbed him. The young man trembled head to foot. Oriael sighed. There was no word of comfort to give that could help him. Caleb needed time. It happened, was written, and couldn't be undone. Oriael's shoulders slumped. The pain he felt grew, approaching all tolerance—just a taste of what Holly went through at that moment. He sat on the couch without Caleb, allowing this to touch him, allowing himself to think. The creases of his face deepened. The shadow that had chased him to earth long ago passed before his eyes.

"I should've told you everything from the moment we met, but I worried it would unduly burden you to have one foot in each world—until you were ready."

"I've been ready since you came back," Caleb replied.

Oriael shook his head.

"No. You weren't. Now, you must trust me on this. I am your friend and I am her friend. This development pains me a great deal, but it was me you asked to guide you on this path. Admittedly, I have only given you the minimum necessary, and the young svarg that you are would understand, though the man you are right now does not. You trusted my guidance and discretion, Caleb. I hope you still do," Oriael said.

"Svarg?" Caleb said, confused, eyes switching between the guardians.

Naajah excused herself from the conversation, leafing through a forgotten script on the table. Caleb stared at her corded, flaxen hair. The two ornate clusters at the back of her head reflected her tricky relationship with him. Naajah was usually on his side, though she worked under Oriael's command. Her style was gentler in execution: she understood the necessity of taking the time to acclimate him to what was to come. She was on his side, but she also manipulated him into obeying what Oriael asked. Tonight, however, she did not put herself between them. Her expression was pinched, suggesting anger and a desire to act, but that something they refused to mention kept her from doing so. That meant but one thing: Caleb faced far worse than a burning soul. This moment advanced his destiny. Those in power needed to know that he and Holly were strong enough to face this threat. Dominic's burning soul was merely the catalyst, no more. Putting them through the worst hell they could endure, a torture of separation from one another, was meant to harden them into perfect diamonds. After all, if what Oriael said was true, then they had eternity ahead of them. Time was of no consequence.

"Yes. You are svargaduta."

"But that—" Caleb cut himself off. "I don't understand. If I'm svarg, what am I doing here—like this?"

"One thing at a time, Mr. Havard. Now—sit," Oriael requested again.

Caleb placed himself in a chair diagonal from the guardian. He picked up a puzzle that the hotel left there for decoration. Glaring at the toy, he fumbled with it, never quite able to give his full attention to any matter. Oriael smirked. The glimmer of the svarg had gained intensity. Oriael must take care. The whole atman couldn't be loosed yet without causing damage to the bio-vessel. This was why they insisted on an indirect connection to it. The flesh would ignite, or worse. It was something they couldn't afford at this point in the game, not when Dominic decided to join Morgentus.

"The reason I haven't been forthcoming is that I can't be. If you were to know who you are, the changes that would overcome your mind would pull upon your atman, drawing more and more energy into the vessel until it ignited and was destroyed. Without a body, Caleb, you can't complete the dharma you were assigned. There are others depending on you, Holly being one. You're not one to throw away others to obtain the things you desire, especially her. Is that clear to you?"

Caleb listened. His hard expression relaxed a bit. Twisting the puzzle in his hands, he thought over the guardian's explanation, then nodded in agreement. It was very clear. In fact, it explained why the white erela snuck behind their backs to show him the details they refused.

"Callidora is working with me," Oriael said.

Caleb's eyes widened. Oriael picked up his thoughts as if broadcast.

"You may think she works against my wishes. And a time or two, the evocati has done things I didn't approve, but her efforts are all part of the deal we made. You were never meant to see Maiel before a predetermined time. It's been a great effort to control those memories and leave them to the subconscious. It failed because of the connection between you."

"But why doesn't she remember me?"

"Because Maiel has been denying your ketu for over three thousand years, Caleb. She never recognized the bond. She doesn't know what you mean to her. You only recently stopped denying it before you were born here, but you had also exiled yourself, so as not to have to deal with the issue."

"I don't understand. Why would she do that?" Caleb asked.

"Oh, Caleb. There is so much I have to tell you. It's quite a bit to wrap the mind around. There are things at play here you can't fathom yet. There are worlds beyond the reach of your eye and they're turned toward Earth, wondering if this is where the floodgates will open, and Jahannam will claim Samsara."

Caleb rubbed his temples, thinking Oriael lost his mind or he was crazy himself.

"Do you see why it takes time? There is too much to learn all at once."

Caleb nodded.

"Good." Oriael smiled.

They sat quiet a moment, and Oriael decided that an overview might not be harmful.

"I can tell you the short version, but please don't ask too many questions. In time, all will be revealed to you. You must be patient, and you must trust that I care. You must trust me," Oriael said.

Caleb regarded him, losing interest in the puzzle. Tears stood in the young man's eyes. Oriael empathized with the rage Gediel felt. He worried if the bio-vessel would be able to contain the emotion.

"All right," Caleb rasped.

Oriael carefully told the tale of the prince who had been in his room the other night along with his relationship to him, confirming that he was in fact Caleb's grandfather. He told him that his name was also Gediel. From there, Oriael told this grandfather's tale, of his fall, then he brought the shadowy figure of Morgentus into the light. Oriael told of worlds far from Earth, where societies so advanced could travel the cosmos and regulate the lesser worlds to their desire. Ancient and modern realms played on the screen of his imagination. The sight was limited to only his guardian's or the danava who threatened him. Oriael did this to make his progress easier, for the sight could rise, overwhelming the delicate machinery of the vessel he occupied. That definitely led to what would surely be regarded as madness by other humans along with the eventual total destruction of his bio-vessel as it struggled to compute the information and balance it with the truth of Samsara. Oriael at last reached the tale of young Gediel the watcher, wolf leader, and pariah. That tale ultimately led to Maiel and the present circumstances.

"As you can see, this has been long in coming," Oriael said, clasping his hands.

The motion reached through Caleb's drowning thoughts. The young man turned his attention back to him from the windows overlooking the city skyline. He had been watching the light show duta were privy to but hadn't seen up until that moment outside of dreams. Oriael gestured, and Caleb eagerly went to the glass. They both stood there for a very long time, until the sun was about to ascend. The curious dawn blotted out the stars. Caleb looked disappointed. He wanted to see the stars, to wonder at the worlds Oriael told him about. In the least, the rage ebbed, replaced by anxious wonder. Then, Gediel's cold frustration rose to the surface.

"Where have you all been?" Callidora asked, pushing through the bedroom doors, preventing Oriael from speaking to the shift in Caleb.

"I've just been telling Caleb the story of his being," Oriael said, glancing guardedly at his assign.

Cal approached, wary of Caleb's expression.

"We have sparing practice now," Cal said, her voice tight with concern.

Oriael pointed a finger at Caleb to make sure he shared nothing of this evening with her. Caleb hesitantly nodded as Oriael faced their comrade.

"Perfect timing, then. I have to make a report to the council," Oriael smiled, gesturing dismissively.

Exchanging another glance with his charge, Oriael assured the boy would hold his tongue.

"What's happened?" Cal asked, when no one explained the dark air in the room.

"Take good care of him. His grandfather watches for an opportunity," Oriael called over his shoulder as he stepped to the tall glass panes.

"Did the prince attack again?" Cal continued to pry.

"No, the Baron," Caleb lied for them.

Oriael activated the seal of Zion to open the door to the White City. Passing through the gate, he was met by Denius. The cherubim swished his tail, looking as angry as the puppy he left back in Samsara. Oriael greeted him warmly regardless. When his attention rose to the throng of duta and souls passing up and down the road, he saw his wife. Anpiel brought their son, swaddling him against her in a white silken wrap. She smiled shyly and Oriael grinned with pride, cupping the dusky crest of his son's hair.

"It has been a long time, my darling," Anpiel said, her voice thick with emotion.

Oriael memorized her face all over again. He leaned down to kiss her mouth, forgetting why he came to Zion. The boy nesting upon his amba's breast broke into an ornery cry. His janya smoothed his crown.

"Come now, my little engel. What fuss is this? The man whose name you bear never faced anyone with such a welcome," Oriael said.

"He is just hungry and misses his janya," Anpiel said, touching her husband's face.

"It's going well, my dear. We'll be back before he walks," Oriael said, losing himself in her amber eyes.

Denius cleared his throat when the moment lagged. Oriael snuffed a laugh. Indeed, he had not come there for a family reunion, but he gathered his determined wife appropriated the meeting nonetheless. He kissed her forehead with a murmured parting word. Denius inclined his head and followed the power into the city. The sphinx waited for the power to speak.

"Dominic chose my brother over his friends."

Denius stared forward.

"He has nearly become a Jiangshi, a soldier," Oriael continued.

"He will drain her to her atman," Denius warned.

Oriael agreed.

"So long as he lives, their bond will be intact, and he'll be able to find her, and yes, that will be his one desire of her," Oriael said.

"Once her head has turned away from him, we might be able to remedy that," Denius replied.

Oriael hoped that came before the trigger fingers of the souls who had their attention on earth twitched. Rumblings from Magnus had reached New York through the usual channels. The Samsaran orders were restless, having learned of the plot, and met Barachiel's words with derision. His warning was shared but likely little heeded. The orders didn't seek peace or containment. They despised humans, often competing with them for attention as the better race. The war they sought would be between more than just Zion and Jahannam. Sides would be taken throughout Samsara. The foolish worlds would add to the gluttonous rabble of the prison world, possibly so much that Zion would be overrun.

The duta continued down the cobblestones. The crowd thinned until a deep peace surrounded them. Oriael sifted through the facts in his head. No doubt his brother set up the attack as an opportunity to step in as her savior. He worried Holly would take the offer, as no one else gave it. Oriael hung his head more worried than ever.

Crossing into a quiet garden walk, a darkly robed alder peered at them from behind a hedge. Oriael recognized Ciajah which caused him to hesitate. She spied on him again, no doubt to report to the High Council or worse. Denius noticed the alder next. Being a bold cherubim, he called her forth.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Alder Ciajah?" Denius asked.

"How goes your mission?" She asked, with a Cheshire cat aspect.

The engels eyed her.

"Well, she is my assign and he my son. It's only natural I seek you out to ask."

The engels looked to one another then back to the alder. She looked guilty.

"You've been spying on me for quite some time, Alder," Oriael boldly divulged. The alder was stricken by his tattling. "Perhaps we best have out the purpose of why you're skulking in shadows on this issue. I have it by a good source you've been to Uriel, Mikhael, the High Council, my assistants, as well as your son, all to make us jump to your bidding. What was it you told Zach? Stand down?"

"I have not been skulking, Decurio," Ciajah said, bitter at the suggestion.

Denius lowered his chin to disguise his amusement.

"Perhaps, like your son and most of your order, you should've become a watcher, madam," Oriael teased.

Ciajah folded her hands at her waist with no outward enjoyment of that comment.

"Zaajah reports the missions go quite well. I don't think we've much to fear," Denius interjected to end the fun Oriael had at the alder's expense.

Oriael nodded. Maiel's loyalty kept the horrible possibilities unlikely.

"Do you wish me to aid in any way?" Ciajah asked.

"No. Keep to your council chambers, Alder. You've done enough manipulating already, and if it had turned into something else thus far, one might've questioned your motives," Denius replied.

Oriael grinned at this.

"I'm merely trying to save my children," Ciajah defended.

"You've an odd way of accomplishing that, Alder," Oriael said.

"As do you, Decurio—letting that ape rape her. I'd have bloodied that soul good before he got the chance, even if it made her stick to him longer. Typical of engels to believe that rape is nothing to be concerned about."

"Madam—tread lightly," Oriael growled.

"Tread lightly yourself, proud power," Ciajah returned. "It is rarely your kind that suffers such violence, but my kind know it too well."

Oriael stepped closer, towering over the alder. She wasn't in the least intimidated by his size or rank. Her chin lifted in added defiance.

"Is there a point to your headbutting?" Denius asked, attempting to cool their tempers.

Ciajah turned her face aside. Oriael backed down as well, but he boiled below the surface. Denius eyed them both, disguising whatever sentiments he held toward their confrontation. Both needed to realize that more than tactics was at root here.

"I merely told Zach what I did because I wanted him to move quicker. He responds better to being told no, especially since this incident. Forgive my lack of trust since Maxiel's fall."

"You very nearly hanged yourself with that," Denius said.

Ciajah shrugged. She didn't care or was so used to skating the edge; it was just a typical day for her.

"I hope you're satisfied with the outcome so that we can end the meddling. We've had about enough of alders manipulating matters from the wings," Oriael said.

"Yet, here you meet with one of our fearless leaders to get further orders," Ciajah said.

Denius held up his paw before they went into another row.

"Yes, well, we all work for the same ends. Let us not lose sight of that," Denius said.

They held their silence, the mood dark now that they finally spoke freely.

"Go to my son, Decurio. Teach him. He requires protection. His grandfather stirs, restless to lay his hands on him. You're the only one I trust to prevent that," Ciajah said.

"Gladly," Oriael fumed.

Denius grinned. They were all fond of the watcher.

"I told him nearly everything this evening."

"It was time," Denius assured him before Ciajah could balk.

"There are years to come, Denius. What do I tell him to win his patience?"

"That is a question best asked of his amba, don't you think?"

Oriael looked to the erela. She smirked, quite satisfied that she was needed.

"Tell him that the time for him to step into that role hasn't come. Tell him when it will be, and then hope that what you have taught him and revealed to him wins out. Hope the threat of war, the destruction of Earth, is enough to quiet his atman," she answered.

Oriael was doubtful that it would.

"If you esteemed warriors will excuse me, I have a council to inform."

Ciajah took her leave, receiving only grumbles and nods from them.

Oriael and Denius continued their walk, this time in silence, contemplating the meeting. Their steps led to an activated but guarded seal for Samsara. Denius faced him, reminding him that they watched. He need not fear the loss of his assign by their negligence. Then, he told him that Mikhael kept close watch of the erela, as did her council, which was more than obvious now. None would spare Maiel from learning who Dominic had always been. That knowledge was the only chance they had to maintain her, to keep her from Morgentus and the other danava who thought to steal her from Zion. It was imperative for her dharma that Dominic be allowed to destroy himself, to take away that piece of him that nested within her. When that was done, when compassion returned to her heart, she would be ready to learn the entire truth.

Oriael inclined his head, then requested that his report be shared with Lemitus. Parting with respect, Oriael returned to the dark room where Naajah awaited him. Memories of his short time with Maiel in Hungary haunted him.

"There you are." Naajah smiled.

"Mikhael watches her," Oriael said.

"Good. Then why do you look so worried?"

Oriael chuckled. He responded about Ciajah and the soul tribes eyeing Earth. Naajah wasn't impressed by the Samsaran threats of violence. She believed a word from the duta council would shut them up. Faced with a stint in the pits of Jahannam, they might reconsider their wrongly placed judgment.

"My soft heart wishes we could've spared her this," Oriael admitted, taking a seat at her table. "Ciajah places blame with me, however. And, I cannot see my way clear of the responsibility."

"Maiel is stronger than any of the duta. I'm surprised her fiery mane is not shot with white yet. That erela should be svarg. He may think he's done her harm, but this is just a nightmare that will pass for her. He's only harmed himself," Naajah replied.

Oriael drifted, murmuring an agreement. His eyes turned towards the windows. Resting his elbows on the lip of the balcony, he clasped his hands together thoughtful. Naajah returned to her reading, allowing him to have a moment. A slanted curve to her lips brought his attention back around. She shook her head, turned the page, and continued reading. Oriael wondered what was on her mind.

Naajah crossed her arms on the book to assess his features for several beats before she spoke. Oriael cocked his head aside, confused.

"I wasn't sure I should share with you," Naajah said.

"What is it?"

"Father Gallo," Naajah said.

Oriael scowled, growing concerned. Naajah grinned with delight.

"Alive and well in this city. He's the head vratin at a Catholic church right near Holly."

"But how do you know that?"

"We passed the church on our way to intervene tonight. I'm sure that's no coincidence, considering who hides him," Naajah said.

Oriael came back inside to hear more. He sensed nothing of his old friend. How could this be?

"Jophi. He has set a ward that no mind could pierce. I was lucky enough to pick up the thoughts from the girl. She saw him tonight. That was what set off the burning soul. He lost hold of his leash on her. When she ran off—well, you know the rest," Naajah replied.

"Jophiel? He's a svarg of the Terra order, is he not?"

Naajah nodded. "One of the strongest among us, too. He'd give Mikhael a run."

Oriael tapped his finger against his bottom lip. He took a few steps before coming back.

"If you need me—"

"Cal will keep him busy for several more hours." Naajah smiled.

Oriael hurried out. Pressing his penannular, he jumped through the glass and shot like a comet across the sky.

The church yawned at an empty street. Oriael carefully crossed to it, warding his presence, though he was sure his brother would expect him. He just didn't want to give away the priest's location, especially in such proximity to the girl.

"Father Gregely Orius," a woman's voice called from the shadows along the church.

Oriael stopped short, startled by the name being called.

A woman stepped forward, dressed in a red wig with heavy makeup on her face. She reminded him of the style popular back when he had left Earth for home. A devious smile curled her red lips. Then he saw the seal of Magnus dangling about her neck. He eased little, though more annoyed than concerned.

"Agnes," Oriael breathed.

"The general was ever so disappointed you never joined us."

"You're no better than the fleet headed to Earth, always trying to control the fate of the souls you're charged to protect," Oriael snapped back.

"If it weren't for me, your girl would've been a pin cushion for the shades in that building. The shame is on you, not Magnus. You believe too much the stories about the Illuminati. Who do you think makes them up?"

"The organization is corrupt. I saw it in the church," Oriael replied.

Agnes nodded, doubtful.

"What is it you want?"

"I'm merely keeping an eye on an operative," she said, as her eyes went to the church.

Oriael was shocked.

"He's going to bring her in, and you'll have to work with us. Then you'll see who's lying." Agnes smiled.

"Were things so bad he couldn't be left to his guardians? Always meddling," Oriael grumbled.

"Why don't I let Father Gallo tell you his story? I doubt you'd believe me if I tried," Agnes said, slipping back into the shadows.

The dark swallowed Agnes, but Oriael stared after her anyway. Her maneuvers were sure to get her killed by their enemy, not help Magnus or the humans in the least. Gritting his teeth, he picked his way to the rectory where his dear friend hid. A foul meeting with Agnes wasn't going to deter him. Technically, the Illuminati were on their side, though they often complicated matters, as she just tried.

Entering the door, Oriael found Tajael, the first of three guardians. She stared at him, arms crossed. For a moment, she was as hard as a stone. Suddenly, her arms were about his neck. He patted her back, careful not to rustle her feathers wrong.

"You've been gone too long," Tajael said.

"I know. I apologize."

"It's quite a mess you're cleaning up."

Oriael grimaced.

"I haven't told him yet. I thought it wise to wait for her to do so. You know Salvatore. He would charge down the street—demand the monster turn himself over to the police. He'd get himself killed," Tajael said. She looked into his eyes and saw everything. "You met Agnes then," she added.

Oriael nodded.

"She's been a great help since the first day," Tajael assured him.

Oriael bared his teeth, unwilling to accept that. As he indicated the door to Gallo's rooms, he returned the conversation to why he came.

"He may go yet. I'd be hard-pressed not to join him," Oriael admitted.

"You both grew so very fond of her. Come. I'll show you where he is," Tajael said, smiling.

They took the stairs where they were greeted by Jophiel at the top. Oriael was glad for the svarg's presence, but sad that he carried such terrible news upon his first visit to his old friend. Tajael led him into the vratin's bedroom. He was still awake, struggling to write a passage in his old diary. Oriael was warmed. Although Gallo's hair had gone white and his body bent, he was the same gentle man.

Father Gallo turned his head. Recognition set in with the greatest of warm joys. He breathed his old friend's name.

"That is now the appellation of my son. I'm called Oriael once more."

They greeted each other, trading wistful expressions.

"How distinguished you've grown, Salvatore."

"How very tall and broad you've grown, my old friend. My god, I'd swear you were younger, even." Gallo grinned.

Oriael stared at him, genuinely smiling despite the torment inside. He patted the vratin's shoulder, thinking of the best way to get around to the subject. Then, Gallo beat him to it.

"I never would've believed—seeing you both this same evening. The roles are reversed, but it is auspicious," Gallo assured him.

"Indeed. That's why I've come," Oriael said, his aspect graying.

"Has something happened?" Gallo sensed Oriael's hesitation.

"Best that we have a seat. This may take its toll," Oriael replied, studying Gallo's dark eyes.

Gallo nodded then indicated a pair of old chairs in which they should sit beside a narrow fireplace. Oriael struggled with where to begin but found that there was no proper way to introduce such terrible information. He was sick in his gut and grew sicker. Father Gallo would be greatly pained. Oriael drew a deep breath, then divulged Dominic's crime.

The vratin wept, as predicted. Tajael offered some comfort to her assign, but nothing could take away the frustration of having failed her. Oriael hung his head, wishing he might have spared the man this news, but Holly would see him again. It would be known regardless of what he did to protect him. In the end, the knowledge had to be his, as Gallo's wisdom was needed in guiding the girl.

"I should've insisted she stay here," Gallo mumbled.

"No. No, Salvatore. You couldn't save her this," Oriael said.

"Did you mean to teach her a lesson? How can you sit there so calmly when a young girl is brutalized? You could've prevented it!"

"I couldn't prevent it. Neither could you," Oriael said.

Father Gallo sniffed, blowing his nose in the tissue his guardian brought him. The vratin wiped his eyes. He drew a settling breath but the anger still wound through him like a river of fire.

"Did you not go to her?" Gallo asked.

Oriael shook his head. Gallo gave him a pained look.

"What can we do?"

"Be her guide. Teach her what she once taught you," Oriael said.

"I begged her to stay for that very reason tonight," Gallo said.

They regarded one another, both concerned that they fell a step behind the danava.

***

Ciajah moved with an air of importance. A wide passage was given to her by those in the lower hall. Her fellow alders took note, but then the crowd quickly went back to their business to pay her no more mind. The hallowed halls of the alder sanctuary, which made a network through the rock of the mountain, became narrower, ceilings hung lower. The spaces grew plain, as though the workmen grew tired of their labors, having poured everything into carving the expansive estuaries below. No speck of dust marked a corner or crevice. These spaces were under constant care, though minimally used.

Through a door shaped like a teardrop, bearing the shade of deepest crimson, Ciajah entered a cavernous room where a reed of the Perpetual Light beamed into the center. A walkway reached out to the center, where it widened in a circle that provided a stage on which the light could play if it would. Instead, a polished opening allowed the light to pass into the infinite below. Upon entering the space, the perimeter of the polished platform illumined with the electric blue light that powered Zion. Ciajah made her way to the opposite end and entered the coordinates. To her left at some distance, a gate formed. Through the new opening came a heavily cloaked figure. Ciajah joined the figure and they passed through, leaving the gate open.

"How fare things in Samsara, Selaphiel?"

The messenger pulled back the hood of her cloak. Her lavender eyes peered ahead, a hint of frustration around them. Upon her head, the silver crown of her rank glared as they moved out of the passage into the bright light of Aghart.

"Since the moon guardian's return, they've been calmed, but I cannot say that things will remain so. Their informants are keeping them apprised of her progress while incarnated on Earth. I'm afraid they're growing restless."

"The way must be written. I hope I can convince them."

"As her alder, your assurances will go a long way," Selaphiel said.

In silence, the pair continued until they reached a tower that overlooked a great waterfall surrounded at all sides by a thick forest. Inside, they rode a strange glass elevator with brass fittings, all the way to the top, where they emerged in a chamber that held view of the great Aghart distances, high above the surfaces of that world. Selaphiel presented her companion to the council representing each species, save those outside of the United Watchers Orders of Samsara. Ciajah stood before their dais with a harsh expression upon her features. She turned her back to the court of dignitaries. The ancient Rose Window scattered colored light throughout the room, a vestige of a time Aghart had nearly become the gates to Belial's ambitions. The representatives stood with a fist upon their breasts, and inclined their heads in respect to the duta.

"It is with the utmost respect that we welcome you to our council, Alder Ciajah," an elderly aghartian addressed her.

"And yet, you defy the word of the king who sends me, Phaon."

"It is not our intention to defy anyone but the prisoners of Jahannam and their leaders who threaten our peace," the aghartian said, motioning the others to take their seats. He did the same. "Would you have us risk our peoples for a single human or duta?"

"I would have you obey the orders given to you by Zion."

"What assurance can you give us that they follow orders and do not put our worlds at risk?"

"Captain Maiel is not working with the princes to open gates upon Earth, nor to undermine your authorities in this sector. She is following longstanding orders to save the life of a human who would've otherwise burned down. Do you no longer stand in accord with the creed we leave none behind, Leader?"

"Putting words in my mouth will not change the fact that there is an imminent threat of invasion, that this council and its army stand to avert such disaster. Pardon our interest in our business, Alder," another councilor answered for him.

Ciajah smirked, proud to have hit her mark. She doubted greatly that the reason behind an invasion of Earth had anything to do with shutting Jahannam's gates. Their own worlds provided plenty of openings for Belial and his ilk to creep through. The prince didn't boast a contingent of fallen agharts because they were infallible. Why did they not target the outer worlds who refused to join the councils, or the others yet unaware of its existence, who angrily defied them? Ciajah knew very well that the humans were despised for some ill-perceived favor from the duta races and the king. That perception was ill-placed, as each of these races produced duta upon a rising, if that was the path to which they aspired.

"Ever the diplomat," Ciajah said.

Phaon sat back in his chair, sensing that he had said too much. The good grace of the duta wore thin. He indeed had very serious considerations to make, which she would be sure to influence the moment they had time alone together. She cast her eyes over the assembly, picking who among them was malleable. The others regarded her with reluctance, holding their tongues, convinced that to interject their thoughts would only amuse her. Then a Cetian female among the delegation—surprising, for they were not nearly as bold or volatile as the aghartian—continued the discussion.

"Alder Ciajah, we've received intelligence that your son has been incarnated on Earth as part of a counter mission, should the captain need intercepting," the cetian said.

Ciajah eyed her, already knowing where they went with this. She saw the flicker of self-satisfaction in Phaon's eyes. Whispers went through the gathered court sitting in view of the proceedings. Ciajah swept her robes behind her to face them equally as bold.

"Would you condone a move by the svarg to subjugate races of Samsara, by which to rule you all with an iron fist, because you've let gates open on your worlds from the prisons of Jahannam? Should we remove your freedoms because some among you cavort openly with shadows?"

Silence met her questions. Ciajah returned her attention to the councilors.

"Yes, my son is on Earth. Yes, he is poised to intercept Maiel. The mission is to nullify the influence Prince Belial seeks to gain on Earth. You and your court should be sympathetic to their plight, Phaon, if you recall your history," she said, eyes flicking to the rose behind him. After a pause, she continued, "our counter plans will succeed if given time to do so. Interference will change that—and it makes me and my fellow alders wonder to what ends you're working."

"Are you suggesting that we're in league with Jahannam?" a member of the taller grails asked, appearing as outraged as he could on his nondescript face.

"Suggesting, councilor? No. I am outright asking," Ciajah said.

A rush of voices went around the room. Ciajah detected the panic in the Samsarans. That was good. It meant she bought the planet more time. She waited patiently, hands clasped at her waist as they discussed her question. The room slowly returned to a brief silence which was then erased by the whispers of the main council.

"We empathize with the mission of your watcher and the moon captain. If it is the request of the alder of Zion to have us stand down, we shall do so, but heed this, Alder Ciajah, should the human break her, we will no longer hesitate to end this," Phaon replied.

"A battalion will be released in this sector if we're given further cause, under strict orders to monitor the situation more closely, gather intelligence and inform a position, so that if a threat arises we're prepared to meet it. We will hold a vote, of course, to be certain that we all still agree on our peoples' survival," the cetian added.

Ciajah smirked giving them her back. She was followed out of the court by Selaphiel.

"And your refusal to follow orders will be duly noted by the council of Zion," Ciajah called over her shoulder.

Selaphiel kept to the alder's side until they stood in the way chamber again. Ciajah shut down the connection to Samsara, as she was clearly irritated by the meeting. Her companion joined her, assessing her mood, and thought the better of offering any wisdom at that moment.

"He will finish this."

"He must," Ciajah said. Ciajah gathered her wits. Then added, "Get me an interview with Phaon. He will bend to my will, so help me."

Their eyes met briefly before Ciajah stalked from the room to return to other matters that hopefully assured such an outcome. Selaphiel remained behind and kept her cares to herself. Ciajah was thankful for that. Her temper would serve no use in flaying her colleague. In the end, how this would play out was up to Gediel. She could only do so much to influence the matter to her favor.