There was white. There was an utter lack of sound. Negative twenty-five decibels in fact. It was pretty hard core. Were you aware that the quietist room on Earth is negative nine decibels? And that it’s so quiet you can hear the blood rushing in your veins and the tiny noises of all your individual organs? No one has spent more than forty-five minutes in that room before beginning to hallucinate. It’s pretty hard core. Anyway, Cyril was in Purgatory. Makoto had just broken reality and now Cyril was floating about in purgatory which was actually kind nice. Not good, but definitely not bad. It was definitely a kink in Cyril’s plans though. Today was the day that Cyril had regained enough power to acquire his first set of wings again, yay! Needless to say, Cyril was very excited. He had found it very embarrassing to parade about the universe claiming to be the Lord of Heaven when he didn’t even have one set of wings. Not to mention all the looks the Seraph warriors had given him when he had claimed to be Lord. It’s really a very uncomfortable position to be in, being stared down by hundreds of winged warriors who all think they could rule your planet better than you. But not anymore! Cyril had reached a respectable power level. Suddenly the sound level was no longer negative twenty-five decibels. There was a relatively loud and slightly abrasive hum. In the whiteness there was now a glowing, multicolored cloud. It pulsed and throbbed and shifted all about, seeking its owner, and it found him after a moment. The glow cloud swirled about Cyril’s leg and slowly crawled up his body until he was consumed. Inside the glow cloud was an expansive study, with walls covered by bookshelves that contained tons of books and odd trinkets that really shouldn’t exist in this universe. Or rather the universe he had just came from, seeing how he was currently in some sort of sub-dimensional pocket. Cyril walked over to the center of his space ship and ran his hands over the hexagonal control panel surrounding the time column. There were deep, echoing rumblings to be heard and the light coming from the time column was getting brighter and dulling back down in an erratic pattern, but Cyril passed it off as wear and tear. Rides like this one deteriorated quickly. Technology had only come so far in this universe, unfortunately. Cyril let his hands run over the control panel absently as he thought about where to go for this momentous occasion. The growth of wings was a very delicate and special process for the Seraphim and many people decided to come back home to Heaven for the occasion. The peace and serenity of Heaven was known to be conductive to the complex process. Cyril remembered the first time he had undergone the transformation. He had been worried sick because for many of his closer relatives it had been a painful transition. But it hadn’t, it had gone quite smoothly in fact with none of the usual agony or disfigurations. With the residual energy he had fashioned himself a new and more detailed body and made some nice pyrotechnics to entertain his younger brother. Cyril smiled as he recalled the night. That was before everything had gotten so complicated, but that was a story for another time. Cyril sighed and decided to go back to Heaven and seek out the place he had first gotten his wings. A trip down memory lane, if you will, before he made new memories in new places. Cyril ran around the panel and pulled levers, rolled rolly thingies, and other astronaut things. The ship hummed and coughed and shuddered to a halt. Cyril approached the door and it slid open. He stepped out into the warm night air of Heaven. He was standing on the precipice of a large cliff. Water roared beside him and flew over the cliff. Grass was slowly taking over the landscape again since before it had been bone dry due to a fault in… Cyril really wasn’t sure where the fault was but it had happened. It was night, the twin suns were gone and the small moon shone dully above him. Below his feet and to the right about a yard were words gouged deeply into the soft ground. Cyril’s face turned into a scowl and he took slow steps toward the message. They still said the same thing they had said when Cyril had last seen them, “WE COME.”
“W-What?” Cyril looked at the words bewildered. Cyril shook his head with a frown. Why hadn’t they gone away? The Seraphim had already come back, so why was their message still here? Time ticked by as Cyril stood over and considered the words gouged in the ground. The only possible reason the words were still there that Cyril could think of was that the Seraphim had not sent that message, but something else. But who would have done this? Who is coming? Cyril backed away from the words and turned to his glowing cloud of a spaceship. He ran towards it and barreled through the door. He ran to the controls and began operating the control panel furiously. The ship shook and creaked eerily and when it stopped Cyril leapt out of the ship and expected to be back to when Heaven had been wished back.
Cyril’s foot hit hard, moist ground. He could no longer see anything, but something must have sen him because there was a deep growling and a huge blast of air hit him. The force of the wind blew Cyril’s scarf astray. The air flew in the opposite direction now, as if something large was breathing in. Cyril’s hat flew into the cave. A soft, silver glow began far away. It got brighter and brighter and the wind got stronger until finally it stopped all at once. The glow faded and wind slowed to a stop. Cyril’s pulses speed up. Thumpthump thumpthump. There is a new sound. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was the sound of light footsteps making their way towards him. A woman stepped into Cyril’s limited range of sight. Her skin was dark but her white hair fell across her shoulders and was the same shade as her billowing robes. A familiar pattern of silver wisps danced across her robes, it drew the eye and beguiled the soul. Her eyes were an icy blue but held a strange warmth in them, a depth Cyril found hard to believe. In her hands she held Cyril’s hat. She smiled lightly and placed it back on his head. She reached across his shoulders and tied his scarf back like a fussy mother. “Hello sweetie,” the woman said lightly, in a deep voice. She tutted and grabbed Cyril’s chin, turning his head both ways, “You’re so pale, have you been getting enough sunlight?”
Cyril wasn’t sure if he should be confused, terrified, or strangely comforted. So he was all three. “Uh… er…” so many questions… we’ll go with, “Who are you?” The woman laughed and suddenly the glowing resumed. This time it spread until the entire area was lit up. A small, underground cavern was revealed in the light. “You know who I am.” She answered coyly. “A more appropriate question to ask would be ‘Why am I here’” There was a long pause as they stared at each other.
“Well?” Cyril finally asked.
“Well, what?” She smiled innocently.
“Well, why are you here?”
“For safety.” She replied shortly. She turned around and walked towards the back of the cavern. “As you know, they’re coming.” Cyril couldn’t see her face, but he heard the smile in her voice. “But who are coming?” Cyril asked. The woman crossed the room back to Cyril and handed him a large, gilded book. “You’ll figure it out.” Cyril took the book and looked it through. There was no title and no words.
“What’s this?”
“That’s a book sweetheart.” She smiled and grabbed his shoulders, turned him around, and gently pushed him into his ship. “Good bye sweetie, we’ll see each other again.” Her smile dropped. “They’re here.”
The door slammed and Cyril was back in his study. The ship hummed and rattled and Cyril flung open the door. Cyril was back on the cliff where the message was. His breath came faster as he approached the message again and read it once more. It was different this time and it said “We are here.”
Cyril stood for a long time, staring at that message. The sun rose before he snapped out of his reverie. Cyril turned his attention to the large, gilded book in his hand. He opened the cover to the blank title page. The pages were thick and unevenly cut. He flipped through the book again but this time text covered each page. He turned back to the cover page and now a title in gothic script was etching itself across the page. “The Blessing of a Seraph.”
Cyril read through the book, now filled with knowledge of the healing abilities of his race. He never noticed that he had left the cavern with wings. He never noticed that they were different and contained strange lines that were brighter than the rest of his wings that danced and formed a familiar, eye-catching pattern.
Word Count: 1,565 for learning the First Wing trans and the Blessing tech
