Kneeling in the perfect, pale gold sand of the largest beach in underworld, he sat in preparation. What he planned was more dangerous than casting a shadow, but every bit as necessary. The source of the danger wasn't in what he was doing, it was in who he was calling.
The veil was one of the most powerful influences affecting the spiritual and physical worlds. Like anything else, it wasn't perfect. Because of it's virtually infinite range of influence --and the nature of the ether itself to maintain a permanent impression of every occurrence--, it sometimes left trace elements within ethereal timelines. These were seen as false, or missing, memories. The curators saw to the maintenance of the veil and the lines it affected, but on occasion, even they missed a thread here or there. This was especially true if an individual had been the focus of several complex cloakings. Considering the hundreds of billions of threads required for the lifeline of a single individual, it was remarkable that they missed as few as they did. Due to the non-linear nature of time in all but the physical world, the faulty threads could cross over into other lifelines over the course of several centuries. The result was missing, or distorted memories along the corrupted lifeline. Unattended, this could become a serious problem.
Raven was beginning to believe that this was exactly the case with his nearly millenium-long past. Something, somewhere was missing. At this point, it was essential that he have a clear view of everything, and in spite of the risk, he was going to do it his way.
Generally, it was as simple as making a request to restore the integrity of one's past lifelines. From there, a curator would perform the task, setting everything back to it's original state.
Of course, that was the easy way, and the easy way had never been Raven's way. Irrisahi's words echoed through his head; "If it were easy,...". He sighed, some things didn't change with time. Besides, going through the curators wouldn't tell him which memories had been affected, they would just restore them. He needed to know, and his way, he would.
It didn't take long to prepare, and after a short meditation, he was as ready as he was going to get. It wasn't the call itself that required preparation, it was the protection. The individual he was summoning was a deadly threat up close. The pain was bad enough, but the real hazard was in the nature of the force radiated by these bizarre beings. Temporal displacement, the shifting of reality within itself, could alter atomic bonds, changing physical matter into a kind of "plastic" mass. It could even destroy the soul matrix itself if strong enough.
Viewed from any perspective, it was a dangerous proposal.
"Ok, I can do this," he reassured himself. "I have to."
Drawing his sphere of attention to a fine point, he sent the call.
The response was immediate. Across the lake, the wall of the cavern shuddered violently as a temporal field formed, throwing the physical composition of the stone and everything around it into a sort of molecular flux. A shock wave rippled several hundred meters out from it's point of origin, followed by a thunderous blast, as nearly 5 cubic kilometers of air were instantly displaced. The force of the blast sent waves across the lake, throwing water and debris high up onto the beach. The terrain adjacent to the epicenter was utterly destroyed. Trees were twisted, uprooted and smashed to splinters. Rocks and huge clumps of soil were hurled far out into the lake, and chunks of fractured stone from the wall itself littered the ground.
The wall began to twist and flow like a muddy whirlpool as a rift formed, tearing it's way into the reality of the cavern with a loud, hissing roar.
Company had arrived.
The rift slowly spiraled outward until it was nearly 400 meters in diameter. The core of the portal filled with a massive, bio-mechanical form that Raven immediately recognized as that of the D'jzhad Xantiiz known as Qua~et'tiem.
Since the creation of the first angels, the D'jzhad Xantiiz had been an enigma. Almost nothing was known about them, even now. They were the oldest beings in the known universe, and easily the most bizarre. Their appearance varied greatly from one individual to the next, as they seemed to follow no conventional patterns of evolution. Some were coherent masses of light or energy, others took on surreal biological forms, while still others maintained the forms of impossible machinery. Most were a mixture of bio-elemental components. Whatever their visual aspect, they redefined the word "unique" in some very inventive ways.
Their function was that of dimensional time keeper. They existed simultaneously within every possible reality, keeping close watch on the flow and forces within each. By comparison, the considerable abilities of the curators were inconsequential. In fact, the D'jzhad Xantiiz were indirectly responsible for the creation of the curators. During the earliest days of the hierarchy, various members set out to learn the ways of the time keepers. Many perished during the attempt, but what they learned, they passed on. Through centuries of exposure to the complex temporal fields generated by these beings, their self-assigned pupils were changed to such an extent that they bore no resemblance to their origins. Ultimately, they became the caretakers of the veil. Qua moved out over the lake casually, the water churning furiously as the fields passed through it. This particular D'jzhad was difficult to describe. It was a phantasmagorical arrangement of terrestrial-looking lifeforms, bio-mechanical elements, and cohesive plasma energy. It had always reminded him of a gargantuan, new age sculpture.
Raven shifted his position in the sand, refocusing the protective elements of his halo as he watched Qua~Et'tiem approach. He was pushing the envelope again, but this time at least he knew what to expect. He'd had contact with Qua~et'tiem 3 times prior, which was considered fairly unusual since the D'jzhad rarely made contact with anyone, including their own kind. They were very difficult to deal with due to the nature of their multi-dimensional intellect. Communicating with them was something akin to trying to identify a single water molecule in the middle of an ocean, at least from their point of view.
In the past, contact had resulted in everything from oblivion, to ecstasy, madness to enlightenment. For Raven, the first contact had resulted in his sanity being held hostage while most of the 15th century passed on earth. His guardians had thought him hopelessly lost to madness, and there were still times when he thought maybe they still considered it a possibility, like now for instance. But he had never been convinced that "sane" and "insane" weren't the same side of the coin, not opposites. He figured the issue was just being seen 2 dimensionally; from the side.
His experience with Qua had made later contacts somewhat easier, though he always put extreme emphasis on the "somewhat". Actually, Raven had been the one to name this D'jzhad, since they had no names --nor seemed to need any when the universe was still young. Names were a convention that was difficult to get around, and he had to admit, it was easier than saying: "You know, that D'jzhad that looks like a fruit salad?"
He shook his head, the proximity of Qua was seriously affecting his thinking. This was too serious to be taken lightly, but it was a struggle to focus, he felt as though his mind were swimming in wet cement.
Then the D'jzhad touched his mind directly.
He immediately lost touch with everything around him. Reality as he knew it, vanished completely as he was swept away into an incomprehensible existence. The universe expanded to such proportions that his senses were rendered useless. As he had once explained it to Sazzi: "You can't force a galaxy through a pinhole."
The D'jzhad sensed his questions, and with infinitesimal effort, gathered every thread of time associated with him into a single line. Using Raven's own memories as a basis for comparison, and a filter for the missing and corrupted threads, the lines began to run.
Sitting high above the fog shrouded city, Raven watched the population go about it's evening routines. He ran his foot over the corroded iron of the gargoyle on which he sat, feeling the cold, damp metal against his newly manifested skin.
A storm, which had been threatening for several hours, finally let loose over the countryside. For this time of year, it was a typical London rain, and Raven knew it would last for some time to come. He leaned back against the dark, rain-soaked brickwork of the building, enjoying the cool water. For him, the rain had always been a source of healing, and a source of strength. Earth's weather fell under the domain of the Virtues, and Sazzi had always seen to it that wherever Raven was, a storm was nearby.
He let his senses drift down to wander the streets and alleys of the city.
The sharp, clicking cadence of a horses hooves on the slick cobblestone street. A hooker negotiating a price with a drunken man who would end up passing out before he got his trousers off, leaving her with a few easy pence, and a story worth a few laughs from her girlfriends. A group of children smacking a can about the streets with sticks, and a large woman, with an even larger broom chasing them away with shouts about them scaring her cats. A handsome, well-dressed young man pacing up and down the sidewalk outside of a cafe, waiting for his fiance, who should have been there 30 minutes earlier.
Raven moved past them looking for the one. The one who had prayed for an angel.
It was a first for him. He had heard prayers countless times, but never one that came directly to him. They had always been the typical prayers, heard by any angel there to listen. It struck him as terribly odd that he had no idea who had sent this prayer. This was not the way of prayers, he kept telling himself.
All he knew was that the prayer had come from the city of London, so here he was.
He sat for hours while he scanned the darkening city to the music of the rain, ever vigilant for a single voice. Moving through some of the poorer areas of the city, he found the homeless. He paused briefly as he searched, to relieve an empty stomach, warm a frostbitten limb, or simply restore the hope of these outcast individuals. He wasn't allowed to do much, but he did what he could. This continued well into the night, until he moved through a condemned building and found what he was looking for.
On one of the upper floors, huddled in discarded rags, and torn blankets, was a young woman. Her breathing was seriously labored, a cough wrenched her body every few minutes. She was suffering from exposure, and malnutrition. Her cough came from a severe case of bronchitis which had been tearing her lungs apart for several weeks. Raven knew she would never survive another week, if she even made it through this night.
She was tired, and desperately needed sleep. Between the biting cold, coughing, and hunger, she wasn't having much luck. Raven thought his heart might expire right there as he watched her.
Looking closely, he could see that this was her first life. For a new soul, life was always hard. Raven understood this as the way of things, but never considered it fair in the least. Qualities, such as creativity and intuition were virtually unknown to those in their first lives. They were qualities which added a certain magic to life, but they required experience, and a strength of spirit that often took centuries to develop.
Life was drear for these people, everything was a compromise, and nothing ever worked out right for them. Raven hated the whole scenario. His first life had been exactly the same, miserable. Fortunately, in the 11th century the average lifespan was relatively brief.
But this was the late 17th century, and he'd come a long way since then. He had to make a decision, but there were rules,...there were always rules. Still, the rules were only guidelines, and an angel had more freedom to act than humanity realized. Then again, that freedom had garnered him many surprised looks and long discussions from his guardians. Rules could be broken at any time, but they were formed within the laws, and the laws were immutable.
He looked at her, beneath the dirt, scraps of clothing and the defeat she wore, there was a glow about her. She was beautiful, and she deserved better than this.
"Raven?"
His attention snapped back to his perch on the gargoyle. Tavin hovered before him with a look of concern.
"Yes?" Raven answered.
"I sensed sorrow and confusion, and thought I might be of assistance. Is there a problem?"
"I found the one who's prayer called me here, and I have to make a decision. I'm just not sure what that should be."
"I see," Tavin replied, with a thoughtful look. "is the situation grave?" he asked.
"She's in dire straits. She's very ill, and on the verge of starvation."
"Then you must make your decision quickly. If her prayer reached out to you alone, then this is solely up to you. There are reasons for such instances."
It didn't sound very helpful on the surface, but it gave Raven what he needed, the freedom to make whatever choice he deemed necessary.
"Thank you Tavin, I know what to do."
Tavin smiled, and faded away with the falling rain.
~But remember, there is a balance, and that balance is ultimately maintained above all else~ the archangel's voice echoed.
Raven had always appreciated Tavin for his soft-spoken, nonjudgemental approach. He never intruded, but when needed, he was always there with sound advice and a pleasant smile.
Holding up his right hand, he called forth a small sphere of light. Within the light, he saw the young woman curled up in a dark corner. He smiled, tears mixing with the constant flow of rain. She was the one, there was no doubt in his mind.
With his heart in his throat, he entered the room as a man. He took her away from the city, healed her over time, and fell very much in love with her. But she was never completely whole, no matter what he did. For three years they remained together, never apart for more than a few hours at a time.
Then she fell ill once again. Pneumonia set in, and nothing he did made any difference. It was intolerable, infuriating, but it was also obvious that he had kept her past her time. He had broken the rules for her, but the law eventually had it's way nonetheless.
In her last few moments, as life drifted away, he showed her his true face to ease her fears. He assured her that she would finally be free of the pain, and that she would never be without him. Her prayer had found him, and he was her's for all time. This was a promise he made, and had kept ever since.
Cradled within his sable wings, she smiled wanly, content in his vow.
"My beautiful angel," she whispered, with a fading breath, her hand slipping away from his face.
As he sat holding her, Tavin appeared for the first time since the day he'd made his decision.
"Such is the way child. Grieve at her lost life, but take heart in the knowledge that you gave her three years that she wasn't meant to have. More, you gave her love that she would never have known, and eased her suffering," he said, with a soft, sympathetic voice. "by law, the balance is restored, as it must be."
Outside, the rain began to fall.
This was the beginning, their beginning. Somehow, he had forgotten that first promise, and why he'd made it. Now it was clear, she had called to him and that was enough. Since that time, he'd found being without her an unbearable condition, like the present. For centuries, he had consistently broken the rules for her without question or reservation, but he had never broken his promise, and always believed in what he was doing.
It was too late to start second guessing himself now, he had to believe that what he was doing was right. But in reliving his past, he was being forced to see things in a different light, an expanded light.
He had crossed the line in giving the one a life she wasn't intended to have, and her death was the law's way of restoring the balance. Sazzi had broken the rules with Faith, and through Sarai, the law corrected her. The patterns of infraction, and restitution were scattered throughout his entire history. The law was as constant as the universe itself.
Casting shadows was also over the line, but he still saw it as the only thing left to him. Again, he found himself about to break the rules for the one, and suddenly worried as to how the law would compensate to maintain balance between them this time. But there was no rule he wouldn't break for her.
He lay sprawled across the sand, his head spinning with possibilities. Qua was gone, and underworld was silent once more.
Slowly regaining his questionable sanity, he sat upright, shook the sand from his hair, and forced his attention to a sharp focus. From the moment he stepped away from his mortal form, he had been living literally between heartbeats. But Qua had just redefined "timeless". In less time than the half life of a helium isotope, Raven had been conducted through hundreds of years, and felt every moment of it.
For some reason, he suddenly felt that time was running out. He didn't understand why, there shouldn't be any reason for it, but it seemed imperative that he proceed with haste.
"Enough of this sitting around," he said, lifting himself above the beach. He stopped 300 meters over the center of the lake.
The storm that had ruined the Watch had been emotionally driven, feeding on an endless pain. Now, cuing on that premise, he dropped his guard completely, throwing every raw nerve into the jaws of that pain. He relived his time with the one over and over until his soul bled in agony.
With a monumental push, he screamed her name, channeling everything into his ever attentive halo.
With a flare like a tiny nova, the rush of angelfire annihilated the cavern in an instant. Outside, the lake, the tower, and the surrounding foothills lifted into the air on an expanding column of blue-violet fire. The intensity of the light shattered the grip of the night without effort, casting the entire countryside in stark black and white posterization. The column raced outward, sweeping across the landscape with blinding speed, and ravenous hunger, seemingly growing stronger as it moved. Nothing withstood it's passage. The atmosphere burned away along the leading edge of the blast, lakes and rivers vanished before they could even vaporize, mountains were sheered off at their base and devoured whole. To a depth of 100 meters below ground level, everything was reduced to it's constituent atoms. It left nothing in it's wake but the fused, molten remnants of the land's beauty.
High in the air, he watched the waves of light and ethereal plasma head out toward the horizons until they disappeared in the distance.
The Watch had become the carrion of his imagination.
